The woods were eerily silent as they made their way home from the village, and the stillness caused the hairs on Cinderella’s neck and arms to raise. Something wasn’t right, and she wished Ty were here. Someone who knew magic might come in handy in case of an attack.
She adjusted the new broom handle resting on her neck and shoulders, careful to ensure that the eight sacks of shoes and bags and beads she’d slung over the ends of the sturdy stick wouldn’t slip off. The single coin her stepmother had given her had only been enough for the handle part of the broom, but it was no matter—she could attach fresh straw to the end.
The sun was low in the sky now, and created long shadows that stretched and bent in the evening breeze. At least Gwendolyn and Agatha were sticking close to her, but it wasn’t clear whether this was because they, too, sensed danger in the woods, or because they didn’t want their purchases to go up in flames. Their reasons didn’t matter. Not having to keep a constant watch on them after that morning’s chase was a relief.
“We should have hired a carriage,” said Agatha, her voice trembling.
“Mother said you need exercise and fresh air to look your best for the prince,” Gwendolyn replied, but she looked about her, as if she too sensed something wasn’t quite right.
“Have you ever encountered trouble on this path?” Cinderella asked her stepsisters.
“Never,” Gwendolyn said. “Thieves wouldn’t dare attack fine young ladies such as ourselves.”
“Why not?” When Ty had dropped from the trees this morning, Gwen had first thought he was a thief, so Cinderella sensed her stepsister was covering her fear.
“Don’t worry,” Agatha said when Gwendolyn didn’t respond. Agatha leaned nearer to Cinderella and whispered,“Mother made up all of those thief stories when you were little, to scare you and make sure you didn’t run away.”
“Really?” She turned to Gwendolyn for reassurance, but her stepsister looked even more worried now. The color drained from her face, her jaw was tight with tension, and her lip trembled.
Cinderella took a long, cleansing breath to calm herself. No way would she let herself be scared. Not on the day she’d bought her first new possession in a decade. Not on the day she’d left the house in daylight. Not on the day she’d found a new friend—her only human friend.
Her heart warmed as she thought of Ty, and she wondered when she might see him again. When she got home, she’d tell her stepmother she’d made a mistake by declining the invitation to the ball. Even if the magic competition sounded better, she’d go to either if it meant another chance to see Ty. Given that her stepmother had let her out today, perhaps she would again.
Her steps feeling lighter, she picked up her pace, hoping her stepsisters would get the hint and match her speed. The faster they walked, the sooner they’d be out of these woods.
A swishing sound came from behind the trees, and the girls froze in their tracks. Cinderella spun to locate the source of the noise. Three masked figures with long swords in their hands landed on the path in front of them.
Thieves—real ones this time! Two in front and one behind. They were surrounded.
“Hand over your money and sacks,” the tallest one growled through a black mask that covered his entire face. His tunic was also black, loose-fitting and belted around his waist with a red sash. The sword he brandished hummed as it cut through the air when he moved threateningly toward her.
Cinderella gasped. She and her sisters were doomed.
“Go away, you brutes! Gwendolyn shouted, squaring her stance and putting her hands on her hips. Her skirt vibrated slightly, revealing her trembling knees, yet Cinderella had to admire her bravery. Perhaps being mean came with an upside.
One of the thieves ran forward, leaped right over Gwendolyn’s head, and landed behind her. He wrapped his arms around Gwen’s body from behind, trapping her.
She stomped her foot, but the thief was quick and moved his foot, covered in a soft leather boot, out of the way in time.
Agatha started to cry.
Cinderella gripped the broom handle, still slung across her shoulders with sacks hanging off either end. Her heart thumped at an outrageous speed and she took long breaths to slow it.
Step one: gain control over her nerves. Step two: attack the thieves.
A broom handle was a poor substitute for a sword, but she could wield it like one. They wouldn’t expect her to have any skills, so best to look defenseless to maintain her advantage of surprise. She bent over slightly, pretending that the burden on her shoulders was harder to carry than it was. With the pails of water she carried each day, the eight bags suspended from the broom handle were nothing.
Another thief grabbed Agatha, whose face was now red and streaming with tears.
“Bind their hands,” the tallest one said to the other two. His voice was rough, as if he’d been drinking gravel. “I’ll take care of the servant.”
Cinderella kept her head bowed but her eyes observant, every sense alert to her environment.
The lead thief stepped forward and raised Cinderella’s chin with a leather-gloved hand. Under his mask, all she could see was the glint of his eyes, flashing malice. “She’s plain, and dirty,” he said. “Still, perhaps we should keep her.”
Cinderella bent to one side and let the bags drop off one end of the broom handle. As the bags on the other side slid toward her head, she crouched, swung the stick quickly, and knocked the man off his feet.
He landed on his back, and his sword fell from his hand. The second thief pushed Agatha to the ground and leaped forward just as the leader retrieved his sword and scrambled back to his feet.
Cinderella slid the other bags off the broom handle and, leaving it on her shoulders, she swiveled and spun, striking the second thief in the lower legs and the leader in the upper arm. His sword flew out of his hands and disappeared into the woods.
Both thieves backed away.
She transferred the broom handle to her hands, struck a warrior stance, and twirled the stick as she’d practiced so many times with her garden hoe. The broom handle was better balanced and made of stronger wood. If she could control the rapid beating of her heart and the fear threatening to freeze her muscles, she might be able to defeat the thieves.
The one who’d bound Gwen lifted his blade, so Cinderella struck his forearm with her stick to knock it away. Then she spun, twirling the stick. The lead thief lunged toward her, and she jumped, used his shoulder as a springboard, and executed a somersault, landing right between the other two.
Catching them off guard, she bent forward and spun the stick low, knocking them both off their feet. She raised the stick above her head and the two thieves cowered and scrambled away from her on all fours, like oversized crabs.
The leader retrieved his sword, lunged toward Cinderella, and she jumped to the side just in time to avoid his blade.
Another man landed on the road from the trees, and she braced for another attack. But it wasn’t another thief—it was Ty!
After bracing himself, Ty leaped in a perfectly executed side kick, and his foot landed right in the lead thief ’s chest, sending him onto his back in the dirt. He shot Cinderella a quick smile and they positioned themselves back to back, circling, watching, and waiting. Cinderella twirled her broom handle, ready to defend against the next attack.
The lead thief stood and whistled. When he caught the attention of the others, he turned away and dashed into the woods at full speed without looking back. The other two followed.
Her heart racing with adrenaline, Cinderella dropped her stick, then turned and embraced Ty. His body felt warm and strong against hers. As she pressed her cheek against the linen shirt covering his chest, she heard his heart beating.
Self-conscious, she released him and stepped back, her breaths coming too quickly, her cheeks burning.
“You saved us,” Agatha said from where she sat at the edge of the path, and Cinderella wondered if she was talking to her or to Ty. It didn’t matter—they’d worked together and the thieves were gone.
“Untie me, you idiot!” Gwendolyn snapped.
The sound of horses’ hooves came from down the path and Cinderella spun toward it.
“Get off the road!” she yelled at her stepsisters.
She helped Agatha while Ty helped Gwendolyn, who struggled against him.
“You brute!” Gwen said. “Unhand me, you dirty forest rodent.”
The horses came into view and Cinderella heaved a sigh of relief. It was her stepmother’s carriage, driven by her groom, who looked through Cinderella as if he didn’t see her. Whether he was enchanted or not, none of the paid servants would ever make the mistake of actually speaking to her, lest they be turned into toads or mice or, as in one horrible instance six years ago, a doormat. Her stepmother took great pleasure at rubbing her feet on the mat that had once been her groom.
The carriage drew to a stop and her stepmother emerged, her wand drawn and pointed at Ty.
“Wait!” Cinderella stepped in the way. “He helped fight off thieves.”
Ty finished untying Gwendolyn’s hands, and she yanked herself away from him as if his touch was vile and much worse than being tied up.
Agatha ran to her mother’s side and pressed her face into the bright purple fabric of her heavy dress. “It’s true, Mother. It was so scary, but Cinderella and this hunter saved us.”
“Get away!” Her stepmother waved her hand at Ty as if he were an ant climbing on her picnic lunch. “Scat, you dirty thing! Get away from my daughters. One of them is going to marry Prince Tiberius, I’ll have you know.”
“I’m sorry, Madam.” He bowed with exaggeration, clearly fighting a grin. “I didn’t realize I was in the presence of future royalty.”
“Get lost!” Her stepmother raised her wand again.
Ty jumped up to grab a branch and then swung himself up to land on it. He tipped his head toward Cinderella and winked before leaping to another branch, then another, until he was well into the forest.
The brief warmth she’d felt at his wink disappeared when she thought of the thieves—not to mention the wolves—and she hoped that Ty would get himself out of the forest safely.
Cinderella turned to her stepmother, who was comforting a trembling Agatha, and boldness built inside her. If she wanted to gain permission to enter the magic competition, now was the best time to ask. It was possible Agatha might even back her up.
She cleared her throat. “Stepmother, I want to apologize for declining your generous offer to allow me to attend the royal ball, and I’ve reconsidered. I very much would like to attend the day’s festivities, perhaps not the ball, but with your permission, I’d like to enter the magic competition.” Hands sweating, she rubbed them on her apron.
Gwendolyn grunted, and pointed down at the bags Cinderella had slid off the broom handle when they’d been attacked. “Pick up our things, Cinderella. You’re so careless.” She stomped over to the carriage and got in.
Agatha pulled back from her mother, and looked back and forth between the wizard and Cinderella as if trying to gauge the situation. “She did save us, Mother.”
Cinderella studied her stepmother, but the woman’s face was an impenetrable wall, her emotions and thoughts buried in stone.Cinderella’s insides trembled with twin threads of excitement and apprehension. She’d just saved her stepsisters from being attacked and robbed. How could her stepmother refuse such a seemingly simple request, especially since not days ago she’d offered to let her go to the ball?
Her stepmother turned to Agatha. “Get in the carriage, darling, the darkness is almost upon us.” She turned to Cinderella and said, “Pick up those bags. I can’t believe you could be so careless with your sisters’ things, or their lives.”
“I had to drop the bags to fight off the thieves.”
“Silence.”
Fear trembled through Cinderella’s bones.
“You’re foolish if you expect me to believe you fought off thieves. More likely you told them when and where to attack.”
“No—”
Her stepmother raised her hand to silence her. “Only an ungrateful girl would put her sisters in the path of danger, or let them be touched by vermin like that boy who pretended to save them. More likely you and he planned the entire thing.” She shook her head. “If I hadn’t been worried you were so late and arrived when I did . . .”
Cinderella’s lips trembled with the anger building inside her. Just how did her stepmother think she and Ty could have planned anything? She never had contact with the outside world. Even for her stepmother, this was beyond unreasonable, beyond unfair.
“Pick up those bags and grab onto the back of the carriage.” Her stepmother got inside and leaned out the window. “Home, driver.”
As the carriage turned, Cinderella scrambled to pick up the bags and her new broom handle, but before she’d finished, the carriage set off.
“And, Cinderella,” her stepmother yelled out the carriage window, “you’d best hurry. You wouldn’t want to get burned.”
Will Cinderella find a way to enter the contest?
Will she ever see Ty again?
To find out, turn to section 4: Unexpected Assistance (page 107).