Cinderella: Ninja Warrior

by Maureen McGowan

  “Well, you did,” Gwendolyn snapped. “What business do you have falling out of trees to terrify innocent women? My sister here”—she put her hand around Agatha’s waist—“might have fainted from the shock.”

  “I do apologize,” the young man said. “I was simply curious about your game and wondered if I could play, too.”

  “Game?” Gwendolyn asked. “You insolent . . . Oh, off with you!”

  Even though her sisters had seen the messenger just a few days ago, it was clear that neither of them recognized him now. They wouldn’t dare treat someone who worked at the palace this way.

  “Perhaps you might let me escort you into the village,” he said.“These woods can be dangerous.” He bowed again.

  “Hogwash,” Gwendolyn said. She purposefully let her heavy handbag bump against his bowed head as she strode past. “Get lost.”

  Agatha skittered behind her sister.

  Cinderella stepped up to the young man. “Are you okay?”

  He grinned and said, “Fine. I’ve had worse lumps than that one.”

  “I’m glad. I apologize for my stepsisters. They can be . . . well, I’m sorry.” It would be incredibly impolite to say anything against her family in front of this relative stranger.

  Her cheeks burned under the bright light of the boy’s gaze. Something about him made her feel both comfortable and nervous at the same time, as if she were wrapped in warm blankets, awaiting an exciting surprise. It was the way she’d felt the night before the winter festival each year before her father had died, knowing she’d wake in the morning to find treats in the sock hung at the end of her bed.

  “Do you mind if I walk with you a while?” he asked.

  “I don’t mind, but would it be proper?” Feeling silly about her question, she looked down. Her real concern was whether her stepsisters would tell their mother, but what was the point of living in fear?

  “Do I frighten you?” The messenger shaped his hands into claws, let out a playful growl, and then smiled.

  She laughed. “No, you don’t frighten me.” Frighten wasn’t the word that came to mind when it came to this boy.

  “My name’s Ty,” he said.

  “I’m Cinderella.”

  “What were you doing before I interrupted? It looked like you were playing a game of tag.”

  Just then, the hem of her skirt started to smolder. Cinderella skipped forward quickly and then picked up the pace to close the distance between her and her stepsisters. “They were just teasing me.”

  “Really?” He fell in stride beside her. “Hey, what’s up with that?” He pointed to the blackened hem of her skirt.

  “Oh . . .” She kept her voice light.“I’m sometimes careless when I tend the fire.”

  He nodded.

  She wasn’t sure he believed her, but at least he was kind enough not to press her for more details. It was too embarrassing to reveal the power her stepsisters held over her, and besides, revealing the spell or anything about her stepmother’s illegal use of black magic would turn both of them to stone.

  “Do you travel this road on foot often?” he asked.

  “Not in years.”

  “Usually in a grand carriage?” He smiled slyly and her heart skipped a beat.

  “Something like that.”

  Gwendolyn glanced over her shoulder, scowled, and then quickened her pace. Cinderella sped up to close the distance.

  “Just a moment,” Ty said, stepping into the underbrush at the side of the path.

  Cinderella stopped too, praying he’d return before the girls got too far ahead.

  “Did you decide?” he called out from the woods.

  “Decide what?” She kept her eyes on Gwendolyn, who hadn’t yet noticed she’d stopped.

  “About the ball.” Ty was bent over, reaching for something from the forest floor. Cinderella was growing anxious.

  “I’m not going,” she said.

  “That’s too bad,” Ty said as he came out of the woods with a beautiful bouquet of bluebells and daisies. He handed them to her, and as she accepted them, she felt her cheeks redden.

  “Thank you,” she said as she took in the scent of the flowers.“I’m not much for balls. All that fancy stuff really isn’t me.”

  “No?” he said. “I was hoping to see you there.”

  “You’ll be at the ball?”

  He nodded.

  She glanced up to Gwendolyn, who turned to see that they’d stopped. Seizing the moment, Gwendolyn grabbed Agatha by the arm and set off at a run. Cinderella’s fingers started to smoke and, before the bouquet could catch fire, she dashed off after her stepsisters.

  “What’s going on?” Ty asked as he ran to keep up.

  “It’s hard to explain.” More like she couldn’t explain. “I need to keep up with my sisters, that’s all.”

  “I’m not sure what’s going on here,” he said. “But if you do need someone to save you from something, perhaps I can help?”

  “Thanks, but I don’t need saving. Really.” She did need saving, but she planned to save herself.

  Cinderella noticed that Gwen had slowed her pace, clearly overtaken by fatigue as she was huffing and puffing, so she slowed to a walk, but kept Gwen in sight.

  She put her nose to the bouquet and inhaled the sweet scent. He was so charming, but hard to understand. “Do you really work at the palace?” she asked Ty. “I’m starting to think you stole that uniform and the invitations from the real messenger.”

  “How could you think that of me?” He dashed ahead a few steps and then turned around to walk backward, a grin on his handsome, tanned face. “I assure you, I work at the palace. In fact, um, I’m involved in many areas of palace operations.” He was about to fall over a stone in the road.

  “Careful!” she said, but he sprang up and glided smoothly over the stone before the warning was out of her mouth. “How did you know that was there?” she asked, dumbfounded.

  “The stone?”

  She nodded.

  He shrugged and said, “I know this path like the back of my hand.”

  Such concentration. But she realized it was the same kind of skill she’d been teaching herself. “Have you studied martial arts or magic?”

  Ty strode alongside her. “Both. I’m training to become a wizard.”

  “Me, too.” She raised a hand to her lips, realizing she’d told him something she didn’t want her stepsisters to know. Plus, she’d exaggerated the extent of her education. Practicing her magic and ninja skills with a cat coach hardly counted as wizard training.

  “You must have a wise teacher if he or she is including martial arts in your training,” Ty said. “It really focuses the mind and body and helps them work together.” He turned to her. “What wizard school have you been attending?”

  To avoid answering, she checked that her stepsisters weren’t watching, and then, still holding the flowers, did an aerial cartwheel.

  “Nice. I’ve learned some acrobatics, too.” Ty leaped up, did a twisting somersault, and landed right beside her without breaking stride.

  “Impressive,” she said, her belly getting strangely warmer.

  She wanted to show Ty more of her skills, and ask him about his training, but she’d already been foolishly bold. Plus, since he’d arrived, she’d forgotten to pay attention to her surroundings. In fact, except for making sure she didn’t catch on fire, she hadn’t paid attention to anything but Ty. She was letting the opportunity to scope out escape routes slip through her fingers, all for a boy. Still, on the chance she ever did escape from her stepmother’s spells—and she had to believe she would, somehow, someday—she’d like the opportunity to know Ty better.

  “Are you planning to enter the magic competition the day of the ball?” he asked.

  “There’s a magic competition?”

  “Yes, and the winner gets a year’s training with the royal wizard.”

  “Really?” Her heart pounded with excitement. If she won, her stepmother couldn�
�t stop her from taking the lessons without exposing her illegal use of black magic—she hoped. This could be her ticket out, if only she could figure out a way to enter the competition and win. “Lessons with the royal wizard?”

  “Yup, and this year, there’s another prize, something even better than that.” His sleeve brushed against hers.

  “Better?” She couldn’t imagine anything better.

  “If the winner’s a girl,” Ty continued, “she gets at least one dance with the prince at the ball.” He turned to her as if he expected her to jump up and down and squeal with glee.

  Cinderella gave Ty a mocking look and said, “Funny. I thought you said better.”

  “You’re not interested in dancing with the prince?” He looked oddly hurt. “There aren’t that many spots on his dance card, and girls are expected to fight over them.”

  “Not me. Why would I want to dance with the prince? I’ve never even laid eyes on him.” She jumped over a rock. “If you get a break from your duties, I’d much rather dance with you.”

  He quickly turned to look at her, and his gaze was so intense, she felt heat rise in her chest and face. She checked to make sure she hadn’t fallen too far behind her sisters again, but her flush was caused by a different kind of fire.

  “I’d like that.” He reached over and took her fingers in his, lightly, as if testing to see if she’d pull away.

  She didn’t, and when he wrapped his hand around hers more firmly, warmth shot everywhere inside her, spreading like the sparks in the fireplace after she’d used the bellows.

  She looked up into his face and this time there was something more in his eyes, something she couldn’t quite place, but liked. It seemed he wanted to hold her hand forever, and frankly, she’d be okay with that, even though his touch made her light-headed—as if she’d been spinning in circles or doing too many backflips in a row.

  His eyes gleamed bright blue and the curls of his blond hair danced wildly behind him in the light breeze to stroke his neck, almost as if they were beckoning her to do the same. Her breath hitched, and she realized they’d stopped running. Not only that, they were standing closer together—so close that she could feel his body’s heat, smell his spicy scent, and hear his breaths hitching, too. For a moment, it was as if the past thirteen years of her life hadn’t happened, as if her father hadn’t died and remarried, as if she’d lived a normal life like any other girl.

  “Cinderella! Come here right now!” Gwendolyn cried.

  Her stepsister’s voice pierced through Cinderella’s happy bubble, bringing her back to reality. She stepped back and dropped Ty’s hand.

  “Get away from that forest scum!” Gwendolyn’s voice grew louder. “And drop those weeds. We’re nearly at the gates to the village. It’s embarrassing enough that Agatha and I must be seen with you, but if you’re mooning around with this common rodent? I won’t have it.”

  Cinderella stepped toward her stepsisters.“Just a moment,” she called to Gwendolyn.

  Gwendolyn’s shouted, “If you don’t come this instant, I’ll—”

  Cinderella knew exactly what that threat held. She gave the flowers back to Ty and, keeping her eyes on him, she walked toward her stepsisters. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Don’t forget,” he said, gesturing with the bouquet as if he were holding a magic wand. “I have a strong feeling you’ll do very well. And either way, please come to the ball. I have a feeling you’ll enjoy dancing with the prince more than you expect.”

  “I’ll try,” she said, and then turned to race after her stepsisters.

  Try? She could try all she wanted, but there was no chance her stepmother would let her enter that magic competition or go to the ball. She’d missed that chance.

  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 ove
r 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.