She took the scenic route.
Three bats appointed themselves guides.
In the programme, Anna was still the princess. Someone had crossed out the crown beside her name and drawn a broom.
She held it up to the director.
“That’s a considerable change in transport.”
“Mara’s lost her voice. We need someone who knows the witch’s lines.”
“I know the prince’s lines too. Do I get his horse?”
“Just tonight, Anna.”
Anna looked at the white dress she had spent the afternoon pressing. Then she looked at the pointed hat.
“I’m keeping the dress.”
A Different Entrance
Backstage smelled of warm lamps, dusty curtains, and the glue used to repair the cardboard castle. Anna tucked her hair beneath the hat, which immediately released most of it again.
Mina stood beside her in the princess’s crown. She knew the song, but kept checking the first line on a crumpled page.
Anna had rehearsed that song all week.
“Is this straight?” Mina asked, touching the crown.
Anna adjusted it. Her fingers stayed on its silver edge a moment before she let go.
“Now it is.”
Behind them, Leo tested three pale paper bats suspended from rods. One turned backward. Another struck the castle with its nose.
“Experienced guides,” Anna said.
“They were fine before.”
“So was my casting.”
The bell rang. Anna took the broom.
Moonrise
Onstage, she settled onto a low stool hidden beneath her skirt, with the broom across her knees. The painted moon glowed behind her. A fan lifted her hair and the loose lace at her sleeves; somewhere below the stage, someone rattled a sheet of metal for thunder.
Anna raised her chin.
“Who dares enter my forest?”
The prince stepped through the cardboard arch.
“I’ve come to rescue the—”
A bat crossed his face.
He ducked. The second bat went left when the first went right. The third caught its paper wing on the tip of Anna’s hat.
In the wings, Leo pulled his rod back. The hat tilted.
Anna caught the brim.
“My hat is not a landing place.”
A laugh rose from the audience. Leo stopped pulling, but his eyes remained fixed on the trapped wing.
The prince looked toward the director. Mina stood behind the arch, clutching her page.
Nobody said the next line.
The Scenic Route
Anna slipped the paper wing free and held the bat upright. She turned it toward the prince.
“My guides appear to disagree about the road.”
The prince looked at the bat. “Where are they taking us?”
“At present, into my hat.”
The audience laughed again. Leo lowered the empty rod. Anna placed the rescued bat on her broom and glanced toward Mina.
“Perhaps the princess knows the way. I believe she has a song about it.”
Mina lowered the page.
Anna hummed the first two notes, softly enough to stay beneath the applause. Mina found them and began.
The prince offered his hand. She stepped through the arch, singing, while Anna lifted the bat as though it were listening with professional interest.
Behind the curtain, Leo sent the other two across the moon. This time, they travelled together.
After the Curtain
Backstage, Mina returned the crown to its box.
“Thank you,” she said.
Anna nodded, rubbing the place where the hat had pressed her forehead. Leo took the paper bat from her broom and inspected its bent wing.
“You didn’t say I got it wrong.”
“The witch was busy,” Anna said. “She had three employees and no directions.”
The director approached with the programme.
“That entrance was wonderful. Would you consider—”
“The princess,” said Anna.
“I hadn’t finished.”
“I’m reserving the crown before you find another broom.”
Anna took the pencil, crossed out the little broom, and carefully redrew her crown.
The bat went back into the prop box.
It had lost its job too.
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