It was a slow journey back to the rescue ship, but their spirits were high. As they walked through the trees, the planet’s distant sun slowly rose above the forest’s canopy. Light shone down, pale and filtered. For the sleepers of the Stellar Fire, this was a new dawn, a new beginning.
As they reached the rescue ship, the woman turned to the captain who had woken her. She took his hands in hers. ‘Thank you,’ she said. And his smile was as beautiful to her as her sleeping, frozen beauty had been to him.
Despite being one of the prettiest girls in the kingdom, Cinderella was also one of the unluckiest. When she was very young, her mother had caught a fever and died. Her father grieved for several years, but eventually fell in love again. His new wife was a widow who had two daughters a little older than Cinderella.
They all lived together happily – or so Cinderella thought – in the grand house where Cinderella had grown up. However, when her father took ill and died not long after marrying his new wife, things swiftly changed. Cinderella’s stepmother inherited the house and all her husband’s wealth, and it soon became clear that the woman and her daughters had only wanted Cinderella’s father’s money and possessions. There was certainly no love in their hearts for Cinderella, and she suspected there had never been any love in their hearts for her father either.
They did not throw Cinderella out of her own home – although perhaps it might have been kinder if they had. Instead, they made her cook and wash for them. She cleaned and polished, did the shopping in the town, prepared the meals, tidied and did all the housework.
Cinderella’s stepmother and stepsisters made her do everything for them, but there always remained one thing they could not make her do and that was be unhappy. No matter how hard she had to work or how cruelly she was treated, Cinderella was always smiling. Yes, she knew she had been unlucky – she had lost both her parents at a very young age, and was now treated little better than a slave – but Cinderella was grateful to have a roof over her head and enough to eat. She knew there were many in her world who were still less fortunate than she was.
Nonetheless, there were also many who were more fortunate. From the kitchen window, Cinderella could see the castle where the lords and ladies lived perched on the hill behind the town. Taking a moment’s break from the filthy dishes she was made to scrub morning and night, she would often gaze through the window and wonder what it was like inside the castle. Occasionally, she would catch a glimpse of Lord Darke’s carriage passing through the town on its way to or from the castle – the blinds were always drawn, and Lord Darke himself was rarely seen.
The years passed, and Cinderella grew into a young woman. Beneath the grime and dirt, the soot and dust that always coated her face, she was far more beautiful than either of her rather plain stepsisters. They hated and resented her all the more for it.
Once every year, the most handsome men and beautiful women in the town were invited to a ball at the castle. If her father had still been alive, Cinderella liked to think she herself might have been invited. She might even have been one of the few who were chosen to stay in the castle and live out their days there in luxury. Although she would not have wanted to leave her parents if they had still been alive, now she would happily exchange her life at home for one in Lord Darke’s household.
At last, one day, an invitation to the masked ball at Lord Darke’s castle was delivered. Cinderella’s jealous stepsisters did their best to keep it a secret from her – they did not want her to go because they knew that her beauty would certainly outshine them both.
It wasn’t long, though, before Cinderella learned of the ball. It was the only thing the people in the market were talking about when she went to buy the meat and vegetables.
‘Surely you’ll be going,’ Bunton, the butcher’s lad, said to her. ‘All the young men and women are invited, as well as the most important people in the town.’
‘Everyone except me,’ Cinderella told him. She felt the little happiness and hope she still had inside her ebbing away.
The ball was to celebrate the visit of the prince of Arbesk. The province of Arbesk had been a rival to Lord Darke’s realm for as long as anyone could recall. Bunton told Cinderella that the prince’s visit was supposed to be a gesture of goodwill and peace between the two provinces, but Cinderella could tell from Bunton’s expression that he was not convinced.
‘I’ve met Lord Darke,’ he told her. ‘When I deliver the meat to the castle, he is sometimes there. I’ve only ever seen him in the evening – they say he does not venture out in daylight. I’ve noticed how he treats the servants, and there’s something in his eyes …’ Bunton shuddered at the memory. ‘I don’t know what it is, but it frightens me. They say he eats his meat raw, the blood still dripping from it.’
When she returned from the market, Cinderella asked her stepmother about the ball. The cruel woman just laughed.
‘It is not for the likes of you,’ she said.
‘I thought all the young people were invited,’ Cinderella said.
‘It is only for important people,’ her stepmother replied, drawing herself up to her full height. ‘People like me and my daughters.’
‘You are going?’ Cinderella was not surprised – as well as his wealth, her stepmother had inherited her father’s position in society.
‘I am,’ her stepmother replied proudly. ‘It is a great honour. Lord Darke has finally realised how much my family and I contribute to the community. You –’ she added with a cruel smile – ‘are not my family. You will stay here and clean the entire house from top to bottom. You will polish the silver and sweep out the backyard.’
On the day of the ball, Cinderella’s stepmother presented her with a list of the work she must complete by the time they returned from the ball. Before she started, though, Cinderella had to help her stepsisters to get ready. She fitted them into their lavish dresses, all the while wishing she had a dress just half as fine for herself. She braided and arranged their hair, wishing she had the time – and a good reason – to do her own. Finally, she watched them climb, along with their mother, into the carriage which bore her father’s coat of arms on the door. The driver smiled sympathetically at Cinderella – he had known her since she was a child, and had worked for her father. Then he twitched the reins and the carriage drove off towards Lord Darke’s castle. As it disappeared into the gathering night, Cinderella heard the castle clock chime eight.
Back inside the house, Cinderella was just starting to mop the kitchen floor when she felt a draught on the back of her neck. It ruffled her hair and made her shiver. Thinking she must have left a window open, she started to cross the room to check, but was interrupted by a strange noise, which split the air – a wheezing, grinding, scraping sound. Cinderella watched in amazement as a blue box manifested in the corner of the kitchen. She stared at it in disbelief for several moments before the front opened and a man stepped out.
The man smiled at Cinderella. He flicked a wayward lock of hair from his eye, but it flopped straight back to where it had been. This time he ignored it.
‘Who are you?’ Cinderella asked. She wondered who would travel in such a strange and exciting manner, and a thought occurred to her. ‘You’re not the prince of Arbesk, are you?’
The man’s smile expanded into a grin. ‘The prince of Arbesk will be up at the castle, enjoying the masked ball, by now,’ he said. ‘Which is exactly where you should be.’
Cinderella shook her head sadly. ‘I’m not invited.’
‘Of course you’re invited. In fact, you are the most important guest of all,’ the man told her.
Cinderella laughed at this. ‘Me? I don’t even have a dress to wear. They’d never let me in like this.’ She gestured at her tattered dress and smudged apron. One of her worn-down shoes had a hole in the end of it, from which a lonely toe poked. She certainly was a sorry sight.
The strange man raised his eyebrows. He walked over to her, took the mop she was holding and threw it across th
e room. ‘You do need a bit of work,’ he agreed. ‘Come on then.’
‘Come on where?’ Cinderella asked.
‘Into my magic box,’ the man told her. ‘You can have a quick bath, and I’ll find some clothes for you to choose from.’
Cinderella was a little nervous, but she thought the man, though a bit strange, seemed trustworthy. Plus, she’d much rather go to the ball than be stuck scrubbing the kitchen floor. So she followed him through the door into his blue box.
She had expected it to be no bigger than a cupboard – which is how big it appeared from the outside – but, once inside, it opened out into a whole mansion, larger than her own house. It was perhaps even larger than Lord Darke’s castle. The man led her through a large chamber with a strange table in the middle of it, and down corridors and walkways until eventually he ushered her through a door and into the most magnificent bathroom she had ever seen.
‘Just ring when you’re done,’ he said, and showed Cinderella a bell pull hanging close to the enormous bath. ‘The left tap is cold water, the right tap is hot water and the middle one is lemonade,’ he told her. ‘You probably won’t need the lemonade, but if you want bubbles there’s a switch just there. I’ve put the time lock on, so take as long as you like. It’ll still be half past eight when you finish.’
The man left, and Cinderella had the most luxurious bath of her life. She took her time, then dried herself on the softest towel she had ever used. Finally she put on a loose bathrobe, and tugged the bell pull.
‘Brilliant,’ said the man, when he appeared moments later. ‘Next stop: the wardrobe.’
Cinderella had never seen so many clothes. There were whole rooms full of them. The man had already picked out several dresses that he thought she might like; he also showed her a whole rack of other dresses she could try, and then he left her to it.
It took a while, but Cinderella finally found the perfect blue, billowing dress. When the man returned, he nodded and straightened his rather floppy bow tie. ‘I know just the right shoes to go with it,’ he told her.
The shoes he offered were made of crystal. The toes were faceted so that they caught the light and shone like cut diamonds. ‘Are they made of glass?’ Cinderella wondered aloud.
‘Shoes made of glass? That wouldn’t be very safe,’ the man said. ‘They’re actually midnight crystal. Much tougher than glass and, thanks to a clear polymer lining that adapts to the shape of your foot, a lot softer too. Glass shoes would just be silly.’
Cinderella put the shoes on. She was surprised at how comfortable they were and how well they fitted.
‘There’s just one other thing you need,’ the man told her. He produced what looked like a metal wand.
‘What’s that?’ Cinderella asked.
‘Sonic screwdriver,’ he told her.
‘And why do I need it?’ she said.
‘You need it,’ the man said, ‘so that at exactly midnight, when the castle clock chimes the first note of the hour, you can do this.’ He showed her how to press a button that made the end of the wand glow. ‘Can you do that?’
Cinderella nodded. It seemed easy enough. ‘But why?’
The man looked surprised. ‘Didn’t I explain? It’s to save your life. Right then – time we were going.’
As she followed the man back along the corridors and walkways, Cinderella wondered how she was going get to the castle in her long dress and wearing shoes that were made of something that wasn’t glass. But, when they stepped out of his blue box, she found that they were already there – the box was now, somehow, standing right next to a side door of the castle.
‘Good luck,’ the man said, and he shook Cinderella’s hand. ‘Remember – exactly midnight. No sooner, and certainly no later. Then come back here. I’ll give you a lift home.’
‘But aren’t you coming to the ball as well?’ she asked.
The man shook his head. ‘They’d spot me at once. Probably smell the artron energy as soon as I stepped inside the castle. That’s why I need you to use the sonic screwdriver.’
The man told Cinderella how to find her way from the side door through to the main ballroom. ‘Have fun,’ he told her. ‘Don’t forget – midnight on the dot. Oh, and you’ll need this too.’ He handed her an ornate mask fixed to a short stick, which Cinderella could hold in front of her face. ‘It is a masked ball, after all.’
Cinderella was afraid that someone would stop her and demand to know what she was doing there. What if her stepmother saw her? She held the mask close to her face, and hurried through the castle.
Cinderella heard the sound of music and laughter long before she saw the flickering candlelight. The ballroom, when she eventually reached it, was full of people drinking wine and talking. In the middle of the room, people danced while a small orchestra played music. At the far end, beyond the dance floor, was a raised platform; here, looking down upon their guests, sat Lord and Lady Darke. They did not wear masks, although the other people seated on the platform did. Lord Darke was tall with thin, lean features and black hair swept back from his forehead. Lady Darke’s hair was just as black but hung, straight and elegant, to below her shoulders. There was something cold, Cinderella thought, about their eyes.
Although she did her best to stay inconspicuous as she enjoyed the music and sipped a glass of wine, Cinderella grew increasingly aware that people were staring at her. Despite their masks, she could tell who most of them were. She tried not to meet their eyes, hoping that no one would recognise her – but it was a man she was sure she had never seen before who came and spoke to her. He was dressed in an elegant suit and wore a plain white mask with a pattern of gold swirls across it. He stood next to her as she watched the dancers, and said, ‘Forgive me, but you seem rather ill at ease.’
He seemed pleasant and, since Cinderella was sure she did not know him, she confessed that she was confused as to why people kept staring at her. The man seemed both surprised and amused by this. ‘You really don’t know?’ he asked.
Cinderella shook her head. The man gently took her hand, and said, ‘Dance with me, and then I shall tell you.’
It was years since Cinderella had danced. When her father was alive, he had made sure that she had dancing lessons every week; now she was amazed at how quickly she remembered what to do. When the music paused, and the dance was over, the man led Cinderella to the side of the dance floor.
‘You seem happier now,’ he said, and indeed she was. Her nervousness was gone and she had even stopped noticing the way the other guests were watching her. She realised how much she had enjoyed dancing with the masked stranger.
The evening wore on, and Lord and Lady Darke and the others on the platform descended to join the dancers on the floor. Cinderella danced again with the man she had met. She wondered who he could be; he had not told her his name, and she felt it would be rude to ask. In the end, her answer came from the most unlikely of places.
As a new dance began, the stranger took Cinderella’s hand to lead her back on to the dance floor – but, before they could start dancing, another figure stepped in front of them. It was Lord Darke.
‘You really cannot keep our most beautiful guest all for yourself,’ Lord Darke said to the man. Then he turned to Cinderella. ‘I think this may be the last dance. Will you share it with me?’
Cinderella hesitated, noting again how icy his gaze was.
‘I can assure you,’ Lord Darke went on, his mouth twisting into a thin smile, ‘that I am every bit as accomplished a dancer as the prince of Arbesk.’
Cinderella gasped. Was that who she had been dancing with all this time? The prince bowed, and stepped back. Still shocked, Cinderella found herself being led on to the dance floor by Lord Darke. Beside them, Lady Darke took the prince’s hand and led him out on to the dance floor too.
Lord Darke was indeed a good dancer, but Cinderella felt uneasy with him. Not only were his eyes cold, but his hands were like ice. As they danced, his attention seemed to be fixed on Cin
derella’s pale, slender neck. She hoped the dance would soon be over and she could perhaps return to the prince.
Cinderella was also aware that time was moving on – it must be almost midnight. Sure enough, at that moment, she heard the castle clock begin to chime. The sound was almost lost in the music, making it difficult to count the hours, but Cinderella knew it had to be midnight. She could feel the metal wand the strange man had given her tucked into a pocket inside one of her sleeves – but she couldn’t reach it while Lord Darke held her hand in the dance.
As the clock continued to chime, Lord Darke’s grip on Cinderella’s hand grew even tighter and colder. Over his shoulder, Cinderella could see the prince dancing with Lady Darke. As she watched, it seemed that Lady Darke’s eyes became deeper and blacker; then, when Lady Darke saw Cinderella watching her, she smiled. Her lips curled back to reveal long, sharp teeth beneath.
Suddenly, the music stopped. Someone screamed.
Across the room, Cinderella could see the people sitting on the raised platform pulling off their masks. They were all smiling – and they all had long, sharp teeth protruding over their lower lips. Lord Darke’s grip on Cinderella’s hand tightened still further and he lowered his head towards her neck with a hiss of anticipation. She saw Lady Darke mirror his actions, her sharp teeth descending towards the prince’s neck.
With a sudden, panicked fury, Cinderella tore herself free from Lord Darke. As the clock struck the final chime of midnight, she pulled the metal wand from her sleeve and fumbled for the button the man had shown her. She pressed it, and the tip lit up.
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