Cinderella Assassin

by Allie Burton

  The chute yawned open—a disgusting tunnel of gross. Nothing I’d ever cleaned smelled this bad or appeared so vile. I regarded the guard working his way in my direction. He checked under the equipment and opened every cabinet. If I didn’t go now, he’d see me.

  Question me.

  Arrest me.

  Holding my breath, I dove into the chute. One of my glass heels got caught on the door and fell off. I couldn’t grab it before I slid down, down, down. The oil and grease caused the shoot to be slippery fast. Debris clung to my skin. The tunnel went dark. I pinched my lips together to keep from screaming.

  Bang. My head hit the side of the chute.

  “Awwww!” I pulled my hands up in protection.

  Bonk. My hip hit the other side making me gasp.

  My dress rose up my legs—good thing I wore shorts underneath. I used my knees to dig into the floor of the chute. Sharp edges cut into my skin making them burn. Nothing slowed my progress. The dress tugged lower on my front. The skirt flew behind me like a cape. And the bag strangled around my neck.

  The chute went on forever. Deeper and deeper. Darker and darker. Dirtier and dirtier.

  And I became desperate and more desperate.

  My mouth went dry and my pulse raced. Why had this seemed a good idea? The slope of the chute curved, and my body slowed. Food waste clung to the side of the slide and to my arms and dress. So much for looking beautiful.

  I plopped out of the chute and onto a high pile of garbage. The stink in the air burned my eyes. The lightless area resembled a cave. How far down had I traveled? The palace was built on a mountain, and only the visible part above ground was made of crystal, metalloid and glass.

  Beneath the palace? Who knew.

  Standing, I shook off the waste clinging to me. My feet sunk into the garbage. “Eww.”

  I took off the remaining shoe and shoved it in the bag. Would there be majik sensors under the palace?

  Patting my hair, I confirmed the dagger was still twisted in the strands and found a wilted lettuce leaf. I threw the leaf on the ground. I shoved my hand in the bag and thought of a flashlight. Immediately, my fingers grasped a cylinder-shaped object. Taking it out, I clicked on the flashlight. Thank you, Gardenia. Now I could see the mess I was standing in. I sniffed. Maybe that wasn’t a good thing.

  A large metal scoop swirled toward the pile of garbage. The mechanism pushed into the pile and shoveled a bunch. The pile I stood on shifted and I lost my balance. I tumbled back and rolled down hitting the ground hard.

  “Ouch.” Rubbing my hip, I watched the scoop carry the waste to holes along the wall and shove it in.

  No way was I climbing in there.

  Standing, I scanned the area trying to decide my next step. Going up the chute wasn’t possible, and I wouldn’t fit in the small holes the garbage was being shoved into. The only way out was forward through a narrow tunnel. My only choice.

  The dirt ground felt cold on my bare feet. When I took a step something gross squelched between my toes. The stench was worse here. The tunnel narrowed. Tall enough to stand and wide enough for maybe two or three people to walk side by side. Solid rock surrounded. The darkness was my only companion. I trudged on.

  My nose twitched. Another smell wove toward me, much worse than the garbage. Sharp, tangy, bloody. My foot stepped in something wet and sticky. I stopped and flashed the beam of light at the ground. A mixture of green and dark red.

  Blood, but not human blood.

  Uh oh.

  I followed the trail of bloody ooze and came upon a green mound. The mound shifted and moaned. A troll. An injured troll.

  “Are you okay?” Keeping my distance, I thought about tiptoeing past, except I wasn’t a monster. If I could help I would.

  “Hey, there. Are you okay?” I tapped on his shoulder and my finger came away coated in slime.

  Which was more gross than the garbage I’d waded through.

  The troll moaned again and rolled onto its back showing a large, bloody gash across his chest. His labored breathing proved his agony. His eyes flickered open and pain swam in their depths. With his mouth closed, he didn’t appear so scary. Beside him lay a spike-studded club.

  I sucked stinking, stale air into my lungs. “Are you the troll from the fighting arena?”

  He struggled to sit up straighter. His clawed hand wrapped around the club. He must’ve taken the garbage chute down, too. The reason why the cyborg said the majik had gown down the chute. Maybe she hadn’t been calling majiks garbage.

  “It’s okay. Don’t be afraid.” Taking a step back, I reached into my bag and thought about first aid for a large cut. “I can help.”

  A tube of ointment shoved from the bag into my hand. I held the tube up for the troll to inspect.

  “Why would you help me?” His gruff voice held disbelief. His hand held the club.

  “Because you’re hurt.” I had the ointment and there was always more in my Necessary Bag. I’d already helped by giving him the club. Though, I wouldn’t share that tidbit.

  He placed his other hand over the wound and blood spread onto his clawed fingers. “Really? I didn’t realize I was injured.”

  His sarcasm lifted my spirits reminding me of myself. “You are the troll from the arena.”

  “And you’re a human. Why do you want to help a troll?” He must not be that injured if his comebacks were so quick.

  “Why would you call me human?” An offended tone spewed out of my mouth. I wanted to be known as human, didn’t I?

  “Look at you with your fancy dress and your perfect human body.” His disgust ripped through me. “What’re you doing in the waste tunnels?”

  Not so fancy anymore. Every inch was stained or torn.

  “I’m searching for someone.” A tremble slid from my head to my feet. What if I was too late? “What’re you doing here?”

  “No humans, and especially guards, come here.” He growled, baring his sharp teeth. “Who are you searching for?”

  “Do you want my help or not?” I refused to overshare or tell him about my mission. Bending closer, I held up the tube.

  “The ointment will help?”

  “It should.” I squeezed ointment onto my hand and used my fingers to rub it on his chest. His skin felt squishy and damp, similar to a lizard, and I controlled the impulse to jerk away. Starting at the narrowest part of the gash, I worked my way up. The wound oozed whenever I put on pressure with my hands and his greenish-red blood squirted on my skin. My stomach roiled.

  He flinched. We both needed a distraction and I needed more than ointment to stop his wounds. Focusing on my fingers spreading the ointment, I pictured the wound healing. My fingers tingled.

  The ends of the gash pulled tight, an invisible thread sewing the wound closed. The tingles spread through my bloodstream creating a euphoric sensation. My magic was working the way I wanted.

  “What’s your name?” I couldn’t continue to think of him as the troll and I needed to distract him from my magic.

  He grumbled before asking, “What’s your name?”

  “Elle.” Focused on healing, I answered automatically. I was healing the troll. Maybe having magic was a big deal if I could use it to help others. Is that what Gardenia was trying to tell me? How had my mother given up this power?

  “Elle.” Another male voice repeated.

  My concentration broke, and the wound stopped healing. I gaped at the newcomer and my pulse skipped.

  The gorgeous guy who’d asked me to dance stood there. Why was he here? How had he gotten here? Had he noticed my magic?

  “I never even got a name from her.” His highbrow scoff told me that didn’t happen very often.

  His fine clothes weren’t a mess like mine. His hair wasn’t disheveled and didn’t have bits of garbage stuck between the strands, although he’d lost the hat and coat. His dreamy face was clean.

  My face flushed knowing I must resemble a disaster. He probably wouldn’t want to dance now that he’d s
een me touching a troll. “I didn’t give you anything.”

  “That’s my point.” Gorgeous crossed his arms and the material of his vest pulled tight across the expanse of his shoulders. “Not a name. Not a dance.”

  “Not a chance.” I couldn’t afford to tell him anything.

  He grabbed my un-bloody hand and tugged me to standing. “Elle.”

  He pronounced my name with a lilt as if he enjoyed saying the single syllable. It struck a song in my heart.

  Tugging my hand to his chest, he said, “You wound me.”

  Heat swamped through my center and I wanted to melt at his feet. Or was that his ego talking? Is that why he followed me? We stared at each other and time warped.

  “I’m the one wounded here.” The troll grumbled his complaint. “Thought you were helping me, not romancing him.”

  I tugged my hand free already missing the connection. Kneeling beside the troll, I squirted more ointment onto the wound hoping it would be enough. I couldn’t use magic in front of Gorgeous.

  “How’d you get down here?” I glanced at him before returning to the troll’s wound.

  “This passage leads back inside the palace.” Gorgeous pointed past the pile of garbage I’d landed on. If I had turned in the other direction, I would’ve ended up right where I started.

  “Good to know,” the troll grumbled.

  “There. That should help.” Setting the tube down, I used a mostly clean piece of skirt to wipe the ointment and blood from my hand.

  “Is this part of your school project?” Gorgeous bent down and picked up the tube and screwed the lid back on. He studied the container as if he’d never seen anything like it before. He probably hadn’t if it had come from Gardenia’s private stock.

  “My what?” I wanted to snatch the tube from his hands but that would make me appear more suspicious.

  “Your school project? The reason you couldn’t dance with me at the ball?”

  Right.

  Just because I could lie, didn’t mean I was any good at it. “Oh, my school project. Yes. Yes, it is.”

  He scanned the area around us. “Are you supposed to be down here?” His nose scrunched.

  At least he couldn’t smell me with the other foul odors.

  “Why not?” Defiance jammed through my bones. Taking hold of the troll’s thick arm, I helped him to his feet. “Unless the regent has something to hide.”

  The troll harrumphed.

  Gorgeous appeared confused. “I thought you didn’t…”

  “Didn’t what?”

  Shoving the tube in his pocket, he took the troll’s other arm. “Never mind.”

  I couldn’t become distracted again. “Can you walk on your own?”

  The troll needed to escape the palace before anyone else tumbled down the chute. Both the guy and I let go.

  “Why because I don’t have dainty feet like humans? Don’t wear shoes?” The troll took a step and almost fell.

  We both grabbed the troll’s arms again. Gorgeous peered at my bare feet. Was he comparing me to a troll? I lifted my chin.

  Using my free hand, I waved to focus attention on anything aside from my feet. “What’re you doing here?” I put force behind my words. He could be a spy or a guard. I had to stay on my toes and be suspicious of everyone.

  Pink stained his cheeks. “Well, I…followed you.”

  Energy sizzled up my spine hitting the back of my neck and morphing into a tickle-y shiver. “How? Why?”

  He kicked his not-as-shiny shoes into the dirt ground. “I was worried about where you went when the troll,” he regarded the troll in front of him, “got free. I knew you were headed to the kitchen, so I asked a couple of the servants. One said you came down here.”

  Had the cyborg told a guard? Of course, a guard wouldn’t have known to ask about me.

  “The area beneath the palace can be dangerous.” His concern touched.

  “It’s a hellhole.” The troll grumbled between them. He seemed familiar with the layout below the palace. He must know the location of the dungeon.

  My pulse leapt. “Do you know how to get to the dungeon where they keep the majiks?”

  The troll growled, and his entire body rumbled. “Held me there until they put me in the arena with the dragon.”

  Gorgeous stiffened beside me.

  I ignored him. “Can you take me there?”

  “Why would you want to go?” He jerked on the troll’s arm.

  “Watch it!” The troll bared his teeth.

  Served him right. Humans shouldn’t mess with an injured and angry troll.

  Gorgeous waited for my answer. His eyebrows rose causing the scar on his forehead to widen.

  “For my school project?” Biting my lip, I hated how unsure I sounded. I needed to be forceful with my lies.

  “What about the palace guards?” Gorgeous glanced behind displaying slight nervousness. It was the second nervous tell I’d noticed. The first had been at the ball when my sister had come close.

  “Those wimps never come down here.” The troll pulled back his shoulders in a proud stance announcing he wasn’t afraid of the guards. “I’m surprised you did.”

  Gorgeous’ pupils contemplated the ceiling possibly thinking of an imaginative response.

  Turning to the troll, I didn’t ask. “You’ll take me there.”

  “Because you helped me, I’ll show you to an access point, then I’m leaving.” The troll grumbled something incoherent. “I’m not getting stuck in that torture chamber.”

  Gulping at his descriptive words, I swallowed the lump in my throat.

  Gorgeous’ silver eyes widened, and his expression flashed with something. What was he thinking?

  “Great.” I patted the troll’s arm several times knowing this would not be great. I needed to get rid of Gorgeous. The joke was on me because I’d never attracted the attention of a guy before and always wanted to. “Thanks for your help. I can take it from here.”

  He dropped the troll’s arm and fisted his hands. “Are you dismissing me?” His voice filled with disbelief as if he’d never been rejected.

  Which I knew wasn’t true because I’d already rejected him twice at the ball.

  “You don’t have a school project now, do you?” I challenged him. Why did he want to tag along?

  “I want to be educated on all matters with regards to the kingdom.” His arrogance caused me to raise my eyebrows.

  It was the first time he’d ever used the tone and I didn’t appreciate it.

  “Besides, you need help with the troll so I’m going.” He grabbed the thick arm again needing to prove his worth. “Which way, troll?”

  “Don’t call him troll.” Humans treated majiks like they were animals. If I couldn’t stop him from helping, I could put him in his place. “He’s got a name.”

  “What is it?”

  “Well, I don’t know.” Squirming, I peered at the troll and at Gorgeous. I couldn’t keep using that label either. The word gorgeous might slip out. “I don’t know your name.”

  Still holding onto the troll’s arm, he made a courtly bow similar to the one at the ball when he’d asked me to dance. “I’m Rye.”

  He was named after a wheat plant? It suited him in our current environment. Poor soils and low temperatures.

  Shaking away the thoughts, I looked at the troll. “What is your name?”

  The troll scrunched up his snout. “Never tell people your real name. It gives majiks power over you.” The troll believed we were both idiots. “Don’t they teach humans anything?”

  Really, what could a majik do with my name?

  “If you won’t tell us your name, what should we call you?” Rye’s request sounded reasonable.

  “Jayunja.” He took a step forward and Rye and I moved with him, supporting the troll as he gained his strength. Trolls were known for healing fast, and the ointment and my magic definitely helped.

  I nodded my head. “Nice to meet you, Jayunja.”

 
“What? It’s not nice to meet me?” Rye’s teasing revealed he wasn’t offended and lightened the weight I carried.

  The problem was, meeting him was too nice. Too confusing. And too troublesome.

  Chapter Ten

  Jayunja set a slow pace even though we headed downhill. We headed deeper into the mountain that supported the palace. The awkward silence between the three of us made the distance longer. I didn’t really know how to talk to a cute guy and my mind was on my mission to save Arbor. The troll snorted and grumbled not really saying a word. And Rye studied every inch of the dark tunnel we traveled.

  “Why are you helping?” I feared trusting this handsome stranger because I wanted to trust too much.

  “Why are you helping? I thought you didn’t like majiks.” Rye’s retort dug under my already bruised and scraped skin.

  Jerking, I glanced at Jayunja to see if he cared what we talked about. The troll kept his head down. “Why would you say that?”

  “What you said in the ballroom about your ridiculous project.” Rye’s hand shot out emphasizing my insinuation that majiks were of a lower class.

  “I was only saying it to fit in.” The honest statement landed solidly in my gut. My entire life I’d been trying to fit in, lying and concealing my true thoughts and identity. I was tired of not being myself.

  The troll’s brown eyes narrowed. I wanted to shout out I didn’t hate majiks. That I was one. And remind Jayunja I’d healed him. I kept my mouth shut.

  “Because of how the regent feels about majiks?” Rye’s astute questions and observations had me answering honestly.

  “And the prince.”

  His stare slid to me, studying and assessing. “How do you know what the prince feels?”

  I blew out an exasperated breath. “He’s the prince. He’ll be the ruler soon. I’m sure he’s in the regent’s trust, knows the evil things the man is planning.”

  Rye huffed. “You have too much confidence in the prince.”

  “Confidence he’ll be as big of a rat as the regent.” Just thinking about the changes the regent had made in the last few years caused my blood pressure to soar. It had never been fair. It just hadn’t been relevant to me until now.