Section 4
UNEXPECTED ASSISTANCE
4
Cinderella’s jaw dropped open in disbelief. She never—ever—should have mentioned the magic competition. Now her stepmother had purchased magic wands for both Agatha and Gwendolyn, and the pair planned to enter to up their chances of impressing the prince.
“Let me try again.” Gwendolyn pushed Agatha aside and raised her wand, a beautiful instrument handcrafted from ash. Gwen pointed it at a melon balanced on the edge of the foyer table, and the large fruit exploded, spraying seeds and flesh all over the table and floor.
Agatha clapped and squealed, “Great job, Gwen! You almost had it that time.”
Cinderella crossed her arms and slumped against the paneled wall. Not only did she have to witness her stepsisters practicing magic and see the fabulous wands their mother had purchased, but she was the one who’d have to clean up this mess. It simply wasn’t fair.
And as used to unfairness as Cinderella had become, now that she’d had a taste of life outside the confines of her prisonlike house, now that she’d learned lessons with the royal wizard were on the line, now that she’d met Ty, she’d uncovered entirely new depths to unfairness.
She couldn’t lose hope, though. Since her trip to the village, she’d spent more time thinking of escape ideas than she had all of last year. But so far she hadn’t come up with a plan that would actually work. She needed a real solution.
If only she had a wand, perhaps she could take her fledgling magic skills to the pro level. There was only so much magic one could do with one’s mind. Maybe she could sneak into one of her stepsisters’ rooms the next time they went to the village and borrow a wand.
She silently scolded herself for the thought.
Agatha raised her wand, pointed it at a melon, and the orb rose a few inches off the table. Cinderella was shocked at the concentration and determination in her stepsister’s face as she raised it higher.
Gwendolyn coughed loudly, Agatha blinked, and the melon fell, smashing onto the inlaid wood floor, creating yet another mess for Cinderella to clean up.
Her stepmother appeared in the doorway. “Well done, girls, well done. At least someone in this family has some aptitude for magic.” She cast a sneer at Cinderella, then turned to her daughters and added, “Now go get yourselves bathed. You need to try on your gowns again.”
Her stepsisters looked at each other, grinned with glee, and Agatha clapped excitedly, like a toddler. “Just imagine if he picks me!”
“He won’t. He’ll pick me,” said Gwendolyn, pushing Agatha aside as they raced up the stairs.
Her stepmother turned toward Cinderella. “What are you waiting for, you lazy girl? Clean this mess up at once.”
“Might be easier if I had a wand,” Cinderella muttered.
“What?” Her stepmother straightened her back, glared at Cinderella, and it seemed to Cinderella as if the woman had grown at least another four inches. She towered over her like a mountain of rocks about to tumble down.
“Nothing.” Cinderella picked up some of the pieces of melon rind.
“You ungrateful brat.”
Cinderella’s hands stung, and she dropped the melon rinds. It felt as if the juice were suddenly laced with acid. She rubbed the burning juice onto her apron, and was relieved when it didn’t eat away at the cloth.
Against Cinderella’s will, her hands flew up above her head, and then her entire body was lifted and slammed high up on the foyer’s paneled wall, nearly level with the second-floor landing. Cinderella was at the same height as the chandelier—the one she had to use pulleys to lower about twenty feet once a week so that it could be polished.
Her stepmother stood below, pointing her wand menacingly. Cinderella had seen plenty of rage on the woman’s face, but nothing compared to this. Her features were twisted and distorted so that she looked more monster than human.
“After what your father did, how dare you mention that wand!”
Cinderella’s insides trembled in fear. “What wand?” Her voice felt strained, but she took pride that it didn’t waver.
Her stepmother’s eyes narrowed.“You know very well the wand I am talking about. Your father stole a wand that was mine.”
“My father was not a thief.” Cinderella tried to pull one arm off the wall, but it was no use; it was as if her limbs had been cemented there.
“Oh, but he was. And a con artist of the worst kind, too.” Looking up at Cinderella, her stepmother paced around the foyer, her forest-green skirts swishing on the floor. “He had no use for that wand. No magic at all. After we married, by rights it was mine. He tricked me into marrying him and then stole what belonged to me.”
“There’s no way my father would use any sort of magic to trick you into marrying him.”
“He didn’t cast spells, you idiot girl. He used your mother’s wand to lure me into marriage, and then refused to hand it over.”
“He wouldn’t do that.” Cinderella kept her voice calm.
“The man deserved to die.” Her stepmother shot a bolt of energy at the opposite wall, and the portrait of Cinderella’s father fell and crashed into the floor.
Cinderella’s heart squeezed and she slipped a few inches down the wall. She forced herself to ignore her emotions so she could concentrate on struggling against the spell while her stepmother was distracted. She slipped another few inches.
Her stepmother spun, pointed her wand straight at Cinderella, and her eyes flashed with red sparks.
Cinderella felt a sting, then a churning in her belly. Her stepmother’s magic was getting stronger, and she was becoming more vicious. Never before had she hurt Cinderella internally.
“You do know where it is, don’t you?” her stepmother screamed.
“I didn’t even know my mother had a magic wand,” Cinderella said, forcing the lie from her lips.“How could I possibly know where it would be hidden?”
She felt her throat start to close, as if huge, invisible hands were wrapped around her neck.
This was it. Her stepmother had gone completely mad and was going to kill her. Cinderella closed her eyes and summoned every ounce of concentration she had. Using her mind, she lifted one of the melons off the railing and braced herself, gathering the power to hurl it at her stepmother’s head.
Max meowed loudly and Cinderella opened her eyes. He leaped at her stepmother and slammed into her arm, breaking the hold that the wand held over Cinderella.
Cinderella slipped down to the floor, reacting instinctively and landing in a controlled ninja crouch. The melon smashed onto the ground.
Her stepmother flung Max off her arm and fine red lines appeared on her neck where he’d scratched her. She raised her wand again.
“Run, Max!” Cinderella shouted as she flung herself forward to block whatever heinous spell her stepmother was aiming at her defenseless cat. But she didn’t get there in time, and her heart nearly stopped when she heard a loud crack and smelled smoke.
She spun toward the smoldering door to the sitting room. No, please. Please let Max have escaped in time.
Cinderella ran toward the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Cinderella spun around and stared into her stepmother’s evil face. “He’s just a poor, innocent cat! How could you be so cruel?” Hot tears of anger rose in the backs of her eyes. “Do what you want to me, but don’t hurt my cat. I’ve told you a thousand times, I don’t know where the wand is, and even if I did, do you think I’d give it to you now?” If she found it, she’d use it to break free.
Her stepmother narrowed her eyes, then strode from the foyer. Cinderella let out a long breath, realizing she’d escaped further punishment for the moment. Max, seemingly unscathed, peeked around the corner. Hope inched its way back into her heart as she formed a new plan for escape. She had to find her mother’s wand, and find it tonight.
That afternoon, her stepmother and stepsisters went to a tea party to strategize with other girls who hoped to dance with the prince the next night. Their absence gave Cinderella her first chance to properly search the house.
Grunting as she finished pushing Gwendolyn’s bedroom armoire back against the wall, Cinderella slumped to the floor of the room that had been hers as a child. She’d failed to locate a secret compartment or a lost piece of baseboard behind the huge piece of furniture, and was running out of possible hiding places to check for the wand.
She hadn’t bothered searching her stepmother’s room. The armoire and a chest of drawers in there, which had once been her parents’, were sealed shut by magic in the same way the books in the library couldn’t be moved, but it was unlikely her father would have hidden the wand there, anyway. Not if, as Cinderella now hoped, he’d hid it from his new wife.
The gong sounded to signal that someone was at the door, and Cinderella brushed her stray hairs out of her face. Deliveries typically went to the side entrance, where the cook could receive them directly into the main kitchen. A guest at the front door was most unusual. And now there had been two in one week.
The gong sounded again and she stepped out into the long hall that led to the stairs down to the foyer and front door. It sounded a third time. Apparently the visitor wasn’t one to give up.
She shrugged. There were no more hiding spots here to search, anyway. She cartwheeled down the hall, performed a twisting back somersault, and landed on the post at the corner of the banister leading down to the foyer. Stepping onto the highly polished, sloping beam of wood, she put her arms out for balance and slid down the banister, one foot in front of the other. When she reached the landing, she leaped off the next post, somersaulted and twisted, pushed her feet off the opposite wall, and then landed on the next section of banister in a perfect handstand.
Carefully maintaining her balance, she walked on her hands down the sloping bar of wood to the next post and then pushed off to the side to land on the final flight of stairs.
And from behind her, she heard vigorous clapping.
She snapped her head around and spotted Ty standing in the foyer, dressed once again in the royal messenger uniform. He removed his plumed velvet cap and bowed.
“What are you doing here?” Her heart raced and her cheeks flushed.
“There was no answer, so—”
“So you just barged right on in?” She stomped down the last flight of stairs. “Who do you think you are, the crown prince?”
He backed up a few steps, clearly startled at her reaction, and she realized that her anger had been misdirected. She’d only been surprised and embarrassed to be observed without her knowledge, and had momentarily forgotten that Ty already knew she had these skills. It wasn’t as if he was going to tell her stepmother. She trusted him.
“If you’re here to deliver another message about the ball,” she said more calmly, “my stepmother and stepsisters aren’t at home.”
“I’m glad, because I wanted to see you.” He looked down, clearly ashamed about his breach of etiquette. “Forgive me,” he said, tipping his head down. “I shouldn’t have walked in just because you invited me to open the door myself last time.”
She stepped forward, to be closer to him. “That’s okay. I imagine working for the royal family, you’re surrounded by people who have a sense of entitlement.”
He lifted his sharply angled chin. “What do you mean by that?”
“I’m sorry.” Oh no, she thought, I’ve offended him. She ran her hands down her apron and said,“It’s wrong of me to think you’d be as conceited as the royal family just because you work for them.”
He rocked back on his heels and crossed his arms over his chest. “They aren’t so conceited, you know.”
“Who?”
“The royal family.” He relaxed his arms and put his hands out. “Yes, there are traditions which must be followed, certain protocols, but when you get down to it, the members of the royal family are just people.”
She shrugged, not really caring about the royals and silently scolding herself for being rude to the only person who’d ever offered her something resembling friendship. “Can I get you something to eat or drink?” she asked. She immediately regretted what she said, realizing she’d just offered more than she could deliver. Everything consumable was locked up and so closely guarded by black magic, she couldn’t offer him anything but water from the well.
“No, but I’ve got something for you,” he said, and dug into the satchel slung over his broad chest.
“Really?”
He pulled out some papers.“Entry forms for the magic competition. It saves time on the day of the event if you fill them in beforehand.”
She took the forms and excitement buzzed inside her for an instant, but it was quickly replaced by regret. “Thank you, but I don’t think I’ll enter the competition.”
“Why not?” He removed the satchel and set it on the floor close to the door.
“It’s hard to explain.” She glanced at the pile of papers.“Why do some of these say beauty competition?”
“Winning that is a second way to guarantee a dance with the prince. I brought those in case your sisters might be interested. They seemed like the type.”
Cinderella felt a sharp stab of jealousy and fought to shake it off. She’d never cared that her stepsisters were more beautiful than she was. In fact, she suspected her lack of beauty had made her life slightly easier, but Ty blatantly acknowledging the disparity hurt her in a way she barely understood.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m sure they’d do well, as opposed to me.”
Ty put up his hands. “Oh, that’s not what I meant at all.” He stepped forward, his expression earnest. “If I was judging, you’d win the beauty competition in a heartbeat. I just meant I thought magic was more your thing. That you’d enjoy that competition more, and I knew you wanted to win the lessons with the royal wizard.”
She blushed. He was charming, she’d give him that. Clearly, he was just being polite about her looks. Still, something in the intensity of his admiring gaze hinted that he might be sincere.
Too embarrassed to ask, she set the forms on the circular table in the center of the room. “My sisters have decided to enter the magic competition,” she told him. “My stepmother even bought them wands.”
“But not you?” He stepped closer. His smile was so sharp and bright that it almost penetrated her skin.
She shook her head. “No, I didn’t get a wand.” She tried to make her voice light and airy, as if she could care less about the competition when, really, it was the most important thing in the world. But if she told him she wasn’t allowed to enter, he’d want to know why—and she couldn’t possibly explain without risking both of their lives.
“You really don’t need a wand,” he said. “They’ve got two separate groups, depending on whether you’ve had prior wand training or not. The no-wand group, in particular, involves testing for magic aptitude, and based on your acrobatic skills—”
Cinderella cut him off sharply and said, “I can’t enter, okay?” Cheeks burning, she regretted that the heat was showing up in her voice too, and quickly tried to change her demeanor.
“It’s just that you seemed so interested the other day.” He reached toward her hand, but dropped back before adding, “I hope you will change your mind.”
She wanted to compete more than anything, but she couldn’t tell him that without leading them both into a dangerous area of conversation, so she turned and stacked the entry forms again.
Maybe she’d hide the magic ones downstairs, just in case, and leave the beauty pageant forms here for Gwendolyn and Agatha. They’d have a better chance in that competition, anyway.
“How long until everyone gets back?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. My family tends to be unpredictable.”
“Why aren’t you with them today?”
“Teas aren’t my thing.”
“No balls, no teas, no royalty—what is your thing, Cinderella?” He stepped forward.
He was even taller than her stepmother, and she had to tip her head back to keep contact with the bright, flashing blue eyes that showed genuine interest in her answer.
“Magic, martial arts, gardening.” A smile that she’d felt building from deep inside her made its way to the surface and landed on her lips.
“You should really get some formal training,” Ty said. “If it’s a matter of money, I’m sure a scholarship could be arranged. With your raw talent—”
She backed away from him, her bottom hitting the edge of the foyer table, and the huge crystal vase of flowers on it tipped toward the opposite side.
They both lunged across the large table at the same time and prevented the vase from tipping over onto the floor. Cinderella ended up lying on her back on the table, with Ty bent over her.
“That was close,” he said with a grin. “Would’ve made a huge mess.”
He didn’t know the half of it. Breaking the vase would’ve caused more problems for her than cleaning up a simple mess.
His muscular arm was bent, resting near her head on the table, and she’d never felt so self-conscious before. She felt as if she were totally exposed and he could see things about her that no one else could see, which made her uncomfortable.
“Can you show me some magic?” she asked, trying to figure out if she could wiggle out from under him without their bodies touching—and then wondering what it would feel like, should their bodies touch. “I’ve never had a real teacher.”
“I’d love to.” He pushed back to stand up and then offered his hand to help her down from the table.
She declined, and instead swung her legs down and slipped off.
“Let’s go outside,” Ty said, motioning toward the inner door.
She shook her head. “I’d rather stay in here, if you don’t mind.”
“Why?”
Her stomach tightened. She couldn’t tell him that she was unable to go outside, because it would lead to questions she didn’t want him to ask. “I, uh . . . don’t want to get a sunburn.” She looked out the window, relieved to see that the sun was out, making her excuse plausible.
“You are very fair-skinned.” He reached his hand forward, as if he planned to touch her face.
She froze, not sure whether she wanted him to touch her or not. No one had touched her face in years, except in anger.
Ty dropped his hand, but her skin tingled as if he’d actually made contact. Who knew that something other than magic could make her cheek tingle? She backed away a few steps. “You were going to show me some of the things you do in your magic training?”
“Of course, but we can’t do as much inside.” He reached inside his coat and pulled out a thin white wand. “I do have this to help me, though.”
Time passed quickly as they completed a few concentration and balance exercises and then performed the few acrobatic tricks they could do safely within the confines of the foyer. As she was the shorter of the two, she could pull off more tricks than he could, even without a wand.
“I know what we can do!” exclaimed Ty, reaching for one of the extra entry forms. He ripped it into narrow strips.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Wait and see.” He placed the pile of paper scraps on the floor near her feet and looked up into her eyes.
She felt heat from his gaze. “What are you going to do with those?” She pointed to the pile of paper scraps. If even one of those wasn’t picked up when her stepmother came home . . .
Before she could finish her thought, he’d raised his wand and the pieces of paper rose, too. First in a random grouping, and then, as she watched, amazed, he gathered them together into a tight ball in the air and scattered them everywhere.
They filled the entire foyer up to the vaulted ceiling, but none landed on any of the surfaces. Instead, the hundred or so small scraps of paper drifted like snowflakes through the room. She spun, delighted by the beautiful effect.
“It’s wonderful!” she said as she turned to Ty and smiled. He returned her smile, then circled his wand above his head.
The scraps organized into lines, spiraling up and down through the room, snaking up along the railing of the banister to the top of the stairs, dancing around the skylight and then diving back down to spin circles around her.
“How do you do it?” she asked. “Can you teach me?”
He lowered his wand and the papers fell to the floor, but she was no longer thinking about her clean-up duties. She wanted to learn.
“It took me ages to master,” he said. “But I was never able to move objects without a wand. The roy—the wizard who trains me, he made me try to move objects without the wand for almost eight years before he’d let me try it this way.” He flicked the end of his wand.
“I can move objects, too,” Cinderella said.
“You can?” His face brightened, startled by her revelation, but he also seemed proud of her.
“Sometimes.” She stared at a few of the paper scraps and directed her open hand toward them. They rose off the floor, but she wondered if she could control their movement.
She circled her wrist and excitement built inside her as the scraps of paper circled, too. Their movements weren’t as controlled as when Ty had done it, but still, she was just learning.
“That’s fabulous,” he said.“Fabulous!” He stepped up toward her and laid his hand on her shoulder. “I can’t imagine how well you’d do with some formal training. You really must reconsider entering the contest.”
The sound of a carriage outside infiltrated the room and Cinderella’s warm, fuzzy feelings turned cold and prickly. “It’s my stepmother,” she said. “You’ve got to go.”
She started to gather all the scraps of paper from the floor, panicking when she saw that some were caught up in the brass chandelier.
“Let me,” Ty said. He raised his wand and all the scraps of paper gathered together and landed in a small pile on the table.
“Thank you.” She grabbed them and stuffed them into her apron pocket, hoping that none would sneak through the small hole at the bottom she’d been meaning to mend.
“Listen,” he said as he stepped toward her, “there’s something I need to tell you, about me, but I’m not sure where to start.” He fidgeted with his hands, and almost looked nervous.
She heard the carriage draw nearer and looked anxiously toward the front door.
“I suppose now isn’t the time.” He looked down, stashed his wand inside his satchel, then looked back toward her again. “Please change your mind about the competition and the ball. I’d really like a chance to dance with you.” He bent down and pressed a light kiss on her cheek, and a wave of heat and joy, combined with terror at her stepmother’s imminent arrival, rushed through her.
He put his messenger cap back on, tucked in his curls, and pulled the brim down to shade his face. “Until next time, Cinderella.” He opened the door and looked out to the carriage just pulling through the gate. “I’ll stall them. I’ll tell them I only just arrived and no one answered, so I left the forms on the foyer table. I’ll flatter your sisters into entering the beauty competition. I have a feeling you’ll be more likely to enter the magic competition if your sisters don’t?”
He was right about that, thought Cinderella. “Thank you,” she said.
As he went outside, she grabbed one of the forms for the magic competition and raced down to the cellar.