Page 1 of Cinder's Trial
Prologue
Many years before the events in Hood’s Caper…
The invitation for the masquerade ball took me by surprise. I’d not expected anything when I filled out the form for the contest being run by our local rock station, but the golden ticket, hand-delivered to me at work, indicated I’d won.
What would I wear? I couldn’t exactly afford anything chic on my minimum wage salary. My tiny attic apartment cost me most of my paycheck. A good thing my work let me eat leftovers for free or I’d be starving.
Luckily, I enjoyed thrifting. The vintage store a few blocks from my place had a lovely gown in a light rose hue marked down due to a tear and a stain. With a little help from the attic spiders, who were wizzes with thread, and the mice who’d taken up residence under my bed, we turned the shabby gown into something presentable.
Dare I say I even looked like a princess? So long as no one glanced under the hem to see my battered ballerina flats.
Since I couldn’t get the day off work—and I still needed to pay rent—I brought my dress with me and hung it in the employee break room. It led to questions and criticism from my coworkers.
“How did you get an invite?”
“I can’t believe they’re going to let you in.”’
“It’s probably because she slept with someone.”
I ignored them all. I’d spent a good portion of my childhood listening to the taunts of my stepmom and stepsisters. I lived by the mantra that being pushed in front of cars and shoved down stairs would break my bones but words couldn’t hurt me.
You know what did hurt? The jealousy someone exhibited at the end of my shift, which turned out to be a half-hour longer than everyone else since I got assigned kitchen cleanup when we closed at nine, an hour after the ball started. I didn’t let it bother me because, after all, didn’t everyone say it was good to be fashionably late?
I finished putting away all the dishes and scrubbed the stovetops before heading to the break room to change. At least I wouldn’t have to wait for a taxi. The hotel with the massive ballroom would only be a ten-minute walk.
Only it turned out I wouldn’t be going to the ball after all.
I stared in shock at my dress, ripped from the hanger and tossed to the floor, trampled and torn. The maliciousness shouldn’t have stunned me, and yet I found myself silently sobbing, fat tears rolling down my cheeks.
So much for having something nice for once.
As I lifted the rag from the floor and balled it up for the garbage, the air suddenly felt strange. Charged even, kind of like that weird sensation you got before a storm.
Poof.
I blinked my eyes, and yet the woman with gray hair in the bouffant dress remained floating a few inches above the floor.
“Hello, Cinderella. I am your fairy godmother, here to ensure you go to the ball,” a claim punctuated by the twirl of a wand, which emitted light sparks.
My mouth rounded. “A what?” Given my mom insisted on naming me Cinderella, I’d read the story that pertained to my name. However, I didn’t recall ever hearing about any fairy godmothers. In the original Grimm books, the woodland creatures helped Cinderella. “The original Grimm Story of The Little Ash Girl didn’t have a fairy godmother,” I objected. “In that tale, the tree planted by the heroine’s mother’s grave was the one granting wishes.” A tree I didn’t have since my mom was buried in a graveyard that only allowed grass.
“Because your curse is one of the few that includes some aspects from modern adaptations,” Godmother softly chided. “Now, just accept that I’m your fairy godmother, here to make your wishes come true.”
“How?”
“Magic, of course. Now we don’t have much time. Put on your dress.”
“But it’s ruined.” I pointed out the obvious.
“Not for long. Hip, hop. The clock is ticking.”
Despite living in a world where fairytales could come true, I remained skeptical as I put on the rag I’d worked so hard on.
“Shoes, too,” she insisted.
I slid the scuffed slippers onto my feet.
“Excellent! Now hold still while I do my thing.” The Godmother waved her wand and sang, the words not any I understood but the effect proved astonishing. My ruined gown transformed, pink and poufy but also shimmering with gold to match the shoes on my feet.