Cinderella looked at Ty, such a strong young man, yet rendered helpless by her stepmother’s spell. A breeze blew her skirt to the side and Cinderella shivered—not from the cold, but from terror. Even if she never saw him again, even if she remained trapped by her stepmother for the rest of her life, even if she never knew another day of freedom, she couldn’t live knowing Ty had been turned to dust.
And there was Max to think about, too.
She looked at the clock tower. The minute hand ticked forward. Apparently time hadn’t frozen, just the people in it, and in twenty minutes Max would be transformed into a mouse.
“Yes, fine. You have a deal,” Cinderella said, her heart twisting.
Her stepmother grinned, flicked her wand, and Ty staggered forward where Cinderella had been standing before the spell. The carriage pulled to a stop in front of the steps. Ty turned to Cinderella, confusion covering his face, and her stepmother flicked her wand at him again.
He staggered back a few steps, then took off his crown and ran his hand over his hair. “What happened? Where am I?” He turned to Cinderella with a confused expression.
Cinderella ran forward. “Are you all right, Ty?”
He started and looked at her, confused. “I’m sorry, have we met?” He rubbed his eyes. “I can’t focus. Just give me a moment.” He turned away.
Cinderella gasped. He didn’t recognize her. Not at all. She charged toward her stepmother. “We had a deal.”
“And I kept it. Do you see any dust?” Her stepmother laughed.
“What did you do?”
“Cleaned up your mess, that’s what. Now the prince won’t have the burden of remembering you. In fact, it will be as if he’s never ever seen you, never even heard your name.”
Rage rose in Cinderella’s chest. “How could you be so cruel?” She turned to Ty. “It’s me. Cinderella. You know me. Look at me. Please.”
He lifted his head, but quickly looked away again, as if he could focus anywhere but on her.
“Time’s a-ticking, Cinderella.” Her stepmother gestured toward the carriage. “And don’t think anyone else here tonight will remember meeting you, either.”
Cinderella felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach. “Ty, I have to leave.”
“Good night,” he said, and waved without even looking toward her. Every fiber of Cinderella’s being wanted to run to him, to force him to see her, to force him to remember who she was, but she looked up at the clock.
“Are you coming, Miss?” the groom asked from the carriage door. “Because if you’re not, we’ve got other places to go.” He waved to the driver, who cracked the reins and the carriage started.
“Wait!” Cinderella cried out and ran down the stairs. Halfway down, she turned back to see Ty, still still dazed, still not recognizing her.
Down on the drive, the carriage had slowed but hadn’t stopped. As she ran down the stairs, one of her glass slippers fell off. She didn’t break stride; there was no time to retrieve it.
Anyway, what use did she have for glass slippers now that she’d be trapped for eternity?
“Oh, Max.” Cinderella flung herself into her godfather’s arms in the middle of telling him about the evening.
“Now, now,” he said as he led her to the stool to sit down. “It couldn’t have been that bad. For one thing, your gown is very pretty.” He looked down. “Too bad it will change back into your rags in a few moments. And your—one shoe? Is that made of glass?” He tried to smile, but his cheeks quivered as he sat down on the edge of the table.“Now why don’t you sit and finish telling me what happened? Quickly.” He glanced at his pocket watch.
As he helped her take all the tiny diamonds out of her hair, she started at the beginning and told him about the competition and how the wizard wanted to teach her and how it turned out she’d known the prince all along, but then she stopped and bit down on her lip as pain stabbed her chest and throat. Now it was her smile that quivered.
“From what you’ve said, the prince will come for you,” Max said softly. He took the diamonds and put them in her pewter goblet.
“No, Max, you’re wrong.” Tears welled up in her eyes and she got up and walked to the side of the room. “He won’t come for me.”
“You don’t know that, Cinderella.” He followed her and set a hand on her shoulder.
She turned and grabbed his hands. “She took his memories. He didn’t even recognize me and couldn’t see me as I fled. And it wasn’t just Ty. She tampered with everyone’s memories. Even the royal wizard won’t remember he granted me lessons, and Jenna will have no idea why her dress is missing.”
“Oh, dear.” Max pulled her head into his chest and patted her shoulder for a few moments, then snapped back. “I must dash. I need to be outside by midnight or I’ll be stuck down here.”
“Why? Please don’t leave me.” She couldn’t take any more.“You won’t turn into a mouse, will you? I got home in time.” If that happened, after all she’d been through . . .
“Not a mouse, no. But remember when I said there would be a cost for temporarily suspending your stepmother’s spells?”
She gasped.“You mean you’ll be a cat again? That was the cost?” Her heart nearly broke. “That’s not fair.”
“Don’t worry about me.” He patted the sheath where he’d hidden her mother’s wand. “I’ll figure some way to cast a spell in cat form and be human again. But it won’t be possible if I stay on her property.”
“Let me help you. After midnight, I can help change you back again.” After today’s events, Cinderella had more confidence in her skills.
“It won’t be so easy this time. Plus, your stepmother will be home soon. We can’t take that risk.” He kissed her forehead and then ran for the door to the garden.
She followed and stood at the door. He took out the wand, placed it in his mouth, and ran across the lawn.
At the stroke of midnight, her beautiful dress turned back into her rags and she looked down. The gown—was it gone forever, or would it magically reappear in Jenna’s closet?
She looked up for Max, but he’d disappeared. “Max!” she called out, running through the garden, searching for him. She saw a cat run behind the potting shed.
“Max! Max!” She ran after him, but could no longer see him.“Watch out for the wolves! Oh, Max.” She would never have let him break the entrapment spell if she had known the cost was that he’d turn back into a simple cat.
Her day out hadn’t been worth the cost. She’d lost Ty, lost the lessons, lost her chance to escape, and now Max had lost his human form. Defeated, she returned to the cellar.
“Cinderella!” Her stepmother’s piercing voice rang out, shaking the floorboards.
Remembering the diamonds, Cinderella dumped them from the goblet into her apron pocket. Best to keep them well hidden. The next time the gong at the front door sounded, she might be able to use the diamonds to get help. Although she wasn’t quite sure how.
The door to the cellar banged open, and her stepmother towered in the entrance, anger shooting from her eyes like fire. “How dare you defy me and sneak out of this house? I should have killed you back at the palace, but I didn’t want to deal with the mess.”
Her stepmother spotted the glass slipper Cinderella had foolishly left on the table. It flew through the air to smash on the stairs, shattering into hundreds of pieces. Cinderella gasped, but then her jaw dropped and hung open as she watched the broken glass re-form itself into her shoe. The royal wizard’s magic was powerful.
Backing away, Cinderella widened her stance and raised her chin. She said to her stepmother, “You can’t hold me here forever. I’ve met people now. People who care about me. People who will do whatever it takes to get me out of here.” Except they’d forgotten who she was. But she wasn’t going to show any fear.
“You are such a fool!” Her stepmother strode around the room, her anger spreading like the stench of rotten eggs.“If you think anyone cares about you, or e
ven remembers meeting you, you’re wrong. And as for the prince”—she tossed back her head and laughed—“even if he spoke to you tonight out of charity, even if his carriage brought you home, believe me, darling, that’s over. He doesn’t even know you exist.”
Cinderella sucked in sharp breaths through her nose, trying to control her emotions. Where was her inner ninja when she needed it?
Gathering her courage, she lunged at her stepmother, but a force shot her back and sent her flying into the stone wall. She crumpled to the floor, fighting to get her breath back.
“Insolent girl,” sneered her stepmother, her eyes glowering. “I see you’ve learned nothing from today’s events.” She heaved a dramatic sigh. “It will be a great sacrifice on my part—I suppose I shall have to hire more help—but from this day forward, you will never again leave this room. Not ever—not even to clean.” She circled her wand and black sparks descended over both doors.
Her stepmother laughed as she climbed the stairs, leaving Cinderella on the cold floor of the cellar.
As the full weight of her new reality sank in, Cinderella’s chest clenched and her stomach imploded. Pain snaked through her body, tightened her throat, and squeezed her temples. It was a pain far worse than any she’d suffered as the result of a physical injury. Ty didn’t know her, didn’t know she existed. If she couldn’t leave this room, he would never get a chance to know her, either. And she was even more trapped than before.
When they’d talked, not an hour ago, she’d allowed herself to believe that Ty might actually love her, might actually ask her to be his bride, but she couldn’t have been right. If she’d been right, if he had actually loved her, then love had proved to be disappointing.
She’d imagined love to be the most powerful kind of magic, but thinking about her life to this point, she wondered why she’d ever thought that. Everyone who’d ever loved her had vanished—her mother, her father, Max—and now Ty.
Love wasn’t magic. In fact, love was so weak it could be wiped away with the flick of a wand.
“Did you hear?” Gwendolyn raced down then stood at the bottom of the stairs that led from the cellar into the house—stairs that Cinderella could no longer climb.
“Hear what?” Cinderella crossed her arms over her chest.
“The prince is visiting every house in the kingdom, looking for his true love.” Gwen held one arm behind her back.
Cinderella’s heart accelerated, but she fought her excitement. Why should her heart race at the idea of Ty? He no longer knew who she was. She replied calmly, “So?”
Gwendolyn leaned against the wall and grinned. “ Too bad you’ve chosen to stay down in your room and wallow in self-pity.”
She strode toward Gwen, who backed up a couple of stairs, but when Cinderella reached the opened door at the bottom of the stairs, it was as if she’d run into a brick wall. She shook her head to recover. “You know full well I’m not down here by choice.”
It was just as well that she’d been stopped. Slapping Gwen wouldn’t do her any good, even if she weren’t trapped down in the cellar. “Someday your mother’s black magic will be discovered and you’ll all be punished.”
“Whatever.” Gwen flipped her dark hair. “Just thought you might want to know the prince found your stupid glass slipper. And get this. He thinks his true love lost it.” Gwen’s fake smile wavered.
Cinderella straightened her back, allowing a little hope to enter into her chest.
“But”—Gwen’s smirk solidified—“the poor boy can’t remember the name of the girl who owned it, or even what she looked like. So now every girl in the kingdom has a shot at convincing the prince it’s her shoe. I plan to prove that it’s mine.”
“How will you possibly do that?” Cinderella asked. “It won’t fit you. Your feet are huge.”
Gwen wrinkled her nose. “There’s no need to be mean.”
“I’m being mean?” Cinderella replied, her head feeling as if it were about to explode.
“I forgive you.” Gwendolyn offered a huge fake smile. “Especially since I have a secret weapon.” She pulled the second slipper from behind her back.
Cinderella stepped forward. “That slipper’s mine. It was made especially for me. You’ll never get it on.” Cinderella was nearly hyperventilating. Clearly, the royal wizard had crafted the slippers so that their form couldn’t be altered. Her stepmother would likely have tried to make it bigger to fit Gwen.
Gwen shrugged. “I won’t need to try it on. Haven’t you heard that possession is nine-tenths of the law?” She snickered. “Having the shoe will be proof enough.” She dangled the slipper from the end of her finger. “What do you think the prince and I should name our first baby? I’m thinking Gwendolyn if it’s a girl, and Tiberius if it’s a boy.”
Cinderella’s fists clenched. “He’ll never love you.” But did she know that for sure? Love had so far proven to possess a disappointing lack of potency, and anyway, if her stepmother could use black magic to make Ty forget her, then perhaps she could also use her magic to make Ty fall in love with Gwen.
She didn’t want to believe that. Plus, knowing Ty was out there looking for her—or at least looking for the girl who’d lost the glass shoe—made her wonder if love had poked some holes in her stepmother’s memory spell. Maybe if Ty saw her, now that he’d had a chance to recuperate from the freezing spell, he’d remember.
Gwen turned as the gong sounded. “Oh!” she said excitedly. “The prince—I should say, my future husband—is here. I must dash.” She wiggled her fingers at Cinderella in a mocking wave and skittered up the stairs.
Cinderella pulled her stool to the window, stepped up on the precarious perch, and pounded her fists on the glass, but it was so thick, there was no way she’d attract any attention, even if someone were out back to hear. She wondered if Max had been able to use her mother’s wand to turn himself into a human being yet. She tried using her mind to break the glass, but it was no use, as the panes were too thick.
Stomping and thinking, she paced the room. There had to be something she could do. She shoved her hands in her pockets and cried, “Ouch!” She pulled her hand out and sucked on the tiny cut where one of the diamonds from her hair last night had jabbed into her finger.
Diamonds . . . diamonds could cut glass.
She stepped down from the stool and stared at the jewels in her hand. Her stepmother might have trapped her down here, but she hadn’t taken away her natural talent for magic. It was a talent so strong, even the royal wizard had commented on it.
Concentrating on raising the diamonds, she held her palm out, and the gems drifted up a few inches. Feeling the magic flow through her, she caused the hard stones to swirl in a circle, building up their speed and force.
She could do this. She had to believe in herself. Her powers had grown during the competition, and so had her confidence. Never had she felt so totally and completely in control. Inhaling to prepare, she raised her eyes to the window’s thick glass, and then shot the diamonds toward it with all the force she could muster.
With a screeching sound, they pierced the glass with a hundred tiny holes. She smiled. The glass hadn’t broken, but her limited magic power might be enough to finish the job.
She concentrated on breaking the glass, and a few of the holes formed cracks. But no matter how much she believed she could do it, her magic lacked the strength and power required to break such thick glass.
If magic wouldn’t work, perhaps brute force would. She looked around for something to slam against the cracked glass. The stool was the hardest thing in her room, but the window was so high, she needed to use the stool to reach the glass.
She turned to the fire and saw the cast-iron grate. She pulled it out from under the ash, and then climbed back onto her stool. Holding the grate in both hands, she raised it high above her head and brought it forward into the glass with such force that she felt the reverberations right down to her toes.
The glass cracked, and hundred
s of tiny lines flowed out like a spiderweb from the holes where each diamond was embedded. But still it didn’t break.
She lifted the grate again, drew in a deep breath, and shouted loudly as she mustered every ounce of energy she could find—from her legs, from her back, from her shoulders, from her lungs—and transferred it into her arms to slam the grate into the glass.
Her heart sank. The glass appeared to be intact. But then she heard a crackling noise. A noise like the one she heard when she tapped the film of ice that formed on her water buckets if she left them filled overnight during the winter.
A shard of glass fell, then another, and after a few more shards dropped to the floor, the entire window crumbled apart, sending tiny pieces of glass clattering everywhere.
Her heart lifted. Now all she’d have to do was get through the small space without shredding herself.
She paused for a moment to regain her composure and then raised both hands, palms forward, toward the window. The broken glass flew out into the yard, clearing her path. From her perch on the stool, she jumped up and grabbed the outer frame of the window, which was made of sharp stone.
Her fingers and forearms were outside the house. There was no magical barrier anymore. She’d done it.
Straining, Cinderella pulled herself out until her arms could bend no farther, then pushed down and lurched forward, her hands scrambling onto the gravel, her body still half inside. She searched for something to hold on to, and slipping back, panic shot through her, but she fought back, pushing down into the gravel with her arms and wiggling her body until her weight transferred onto her hips inside the frame of the small window. She twisted from side to side, working her way through the window frame, and finally felt a release of pressure. She’d made it through, and was lying on the gravel at the edge of the building.
She leaped up and ran to the front of the house. No way was she letting Ty get off this property without speaking to him. Even though his feelings had proven too weak to withstand her stepmother’s magic, her feelings hadn’t diminished, much as she’d tried to set them aside. In fact, the thought that Ty was lost to her forever had only intensified and clarified her emotions.
Cinderella: Ninja Warrior Page 19
