Cinderella: Ninja Warrior

by Maureen McGowan

  The one who’d bound Gwen lifted his blade, so Cinderella struck his forearm with her stick to knock it away. Then she spun, twirling the stick. The lead thief lunged toward her, and she jumped, used his shoulder as a springboard, and executed a somersault, landing right between the other two.

  Catching them off guard, she bent forward and spun the stick low, knocking them both off their feet. She raised the stick above her head and the two thieves cowered and scrambled away from her on all fours, like oversized crabs.

  The leader retrieved his sword, lunged toward Cinderella, and she jumped to the side just in time to avoid his blade.

  Another man landed on the road from the trees, and she braced for another attack. But it wasn’t another thief—it was Ty!

  After bracing himself, Ty leaped in a perfectly executed side kick, and his foot landed right in the lead thief ’s chest, sending him onto his back in the dirt. He shot Cinderella a quick smile and they positioned themselves back to back, circling, watching, and waiting. Cinderella twirled her broom handle, ready to defend against the next attack.

  The lead thief stood and whistled. When he caught the attention of the others, he turned away and dashed into the woods at full speed without looking back. The other two followed.

  Her heart racing with adrenaline, Cinderella dropped her stick, then turned and embraced Ty. His body felt warm and strong against hers. As she pressed her cheek against the linen shirt covering his chest, she heard his heart beating.

  Self-conscious, she released him and stepped back, her breaths coming too quickly, her cheeks burning.

  “You saved us,” Agatha said from where she sat at the edge of the path, and Cinderella wondered if she was talking to her or to Ty. It didn’t matter—they’d worked together and the thieves were gone.

  “Untie me, you idiot!” Gwendolyn snapped.

  The sound of horses’ hooves came from down the path and Cinderella spun toward it.

  “Get off the road!” she yelled at her stepsisters.

  She helped Agatha while Ty helped Gwendolyn, who struggled against him.

  “You brute!” Gwen said. “Unhand me, you dirty forest rodent.”

  The horses came into view and Cinderella heaved a sigh of relief. It was her stepmother’s carriage, driven by her groom, who looked through Cinderella as if he didn’t see her. Whether he was enchanted or not, none of the paid servants would ever make the mistake of actually speaking to her, lest they be turned into toads or mice or, as in one horrible instance six years ago, a doormat. Her stepmother took great pleasure at rubbing her feet on the mat that had once been her groom.

  The carriage drew to a stop and her stepmother emerged, her wand drawn and pointed at Ty.

  “Wait!” Cinderella stepped in the way. “He helped fight off thieves.”

  Ty finished untying Gwendolyn’s hands, and she yanked herself away from him as if his touch was vile and much worse than being tied up.

  Agatha ran to her mother’s side and pressed her face into the bright purple fabric of her heavy dress. “It’s true, Mother. It was so scary, but Cinderella and this hunter saved us.”

  “Get away!” Her stepmother waved her hand at Ty as if he were an ant climbing on her picnic lunch. “Scat, you dirty thing! Get away from my daughters. One of them is going to marry Prince Tiberius, I’ll have you know.”

  “I’m sorry, Madam.” He bowed with exaggeration, clearly fighting a grin. “I didn’t realize I was in the presence of future royalty.”

  “Get lost!” Her stepmother raised her wand again.

  Ty jumped up to grab a branch and then swung himself up to land on it. He tipped his head toward Cinderella and winked before leaping to another branch, then another, until he was well into the forest.

  The brief warmth she’d felt at his wink disappeared when she thought of the thieves—not to mention the wolves—and she hoped that Ty would get himself out of the forest safely.

  Cinderella turned to her stepmother, who was comforting a trembling Agatha, and boldness built inside her. If she wanted to gain permission to enter the magic competition, now was the best time to ask. It was possible Agatha might even back her up.

  She cleared her throat. “Stepmother, I want to apologize for declining your generous offer to allow me to attend the royal ball, and I’ve reconsidered. I very much would like to attend the day’s festivities, perhaps not the ball, but with your permission, I’d like to enter the magic competition.” Hands sweating, she rubbed them on her apron.

  Gwendolyn grunted, and pointed down at the bags Cinderella had slid off the broom handle when they’d been attacked. “Pick up our things, Cinderella. You’re so careless.” She stomped over to the carriage and got in.

  Agatha pulled back from her mother, and looked back and forth between the wizard and Cinderella as if trying to gauge the situation. “She did save us, Mother.”

  Cinderella studied her stepmother, but the woman’s face was an impenetrable wall, her emotions and thoughts buried in stone.Cinderella’s insides trembled with twin threads of excitement and apprehension. She’d just saved her stepsisters from being attacked and robbed. How could her stepmother refuse such a seemingly simple request, especially since not days ago she’d offered to let her go to the ball?

  Her stepmother turned to Agatha. “Get in the carriage, darling, the darkness is almost upon us.” She turned to Cinderella and said, “Pick up those bags. I can’t believe you could be so careless with your sisters’ things, or their lives.”

  “I had to drop the bags to fight off the thieves.”

  “Silence.”

  Fear trembled through Cinderella’s bones.

  “You’re foolish if you expect me to believe you fought off thieves. More likely you told them when and where to attack.”

  “No—”

  Her stepmother raised her hand to silence her. “Only an ungrateful girl would put her sisters in the path of danger, or let them be touched by vermin like that boy who pretended to save them. More likely you and he planned the entire thing.” She shook her head. “If I hadn’t been worried you were so late and arrived when I did . . .”

  Cinderella’s lips trembled with the anger building inside her. Just how did her stepmother think she and Ty could have planned anything? She never had contact with the outside world. Even for her stepmother, this was beyond unreasonable, beyond unfair.

  “Pick up those bags and grab onto the back of the carriage.” Her stepmother got inside and leaned out the window. “Home, driver.”

  As the carriage turned, Cinderella scrambled to pick up the bags and her new broom handle, but before she’d finished, the carriage set off.

  “And, Cinderella,” her stepmother yelled out the carriage window, “you’d best hurry. You wouldn’t want to get burned.”

  Will Cinderella find a way to enter the contest?

  Will she ever see Ty again?

  To find out, turn to section 4: Unexpected Assistance (page 107).

  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.”