With deft motions, he slipped the cork out of the vial and spilled a bit onto the manacles where they bolted together. Acid hissed, eating away at the metal. The manacle loosened, and he wrenched his hand out of its grasp. Using the acid, he freed his other three limbs, then climbed off the bed and stretched. Ah, it feels good to be free!

Alright. He closed his eyes and focused. Stay lucid, and get back here before Dayander comes. I don’t mind so much being stuck in my room, but no one wants to be chained up on a bed all day with nothing to do. Though… now that I’ve escaped, there’s no way I’m staying in this stuffy old room. I’m going out, and no one can stop me!

He cast around the room and found his old gear hidden away in a wardrobe, straps and pads all jumbled together. Looking at the pile, he hesitated, then sighed. If I’m sneaking out anyways, I might as well go out as Mouse. The gig is up that Twain is me, and his Highness might get suspicious if Mouse always dresses up as a man to sneak out, even when there’s no gain to it.

Geared up, he pulled the nightdress back over his head. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and grinned. Hair mussed, wearing a flimsy nightdress, marks at his wrists and ankles, he belonged in a tragedy. He pulled a face at the mirror. “I’m a proper mental patient now.”

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

Fabrics took on a smooth, slimy texture. Liquid dripped in his ear, just out of sight. Twain shut his eyes. Come on. Come on. I just escaped, let’s not ruin it this time.

The heartbeat faded. He opened his eyes.

Soft again, fabrics swayed in the breeze. Nothing dripped. Everything remained quiet.

Twain let out his breath. Okay. I can do this. He slapped his cheeks. Back to being Mouse. Let’s go see how everyone’s doing.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

He glanced at the door to the hallway. It had a keyhole, but no easy way to unlock it from this side. Mouse hesitated, then dismissed it. There’s almost certainly someone outside, and if I melt that lock, the gig is well and truly up. Anyone walking by would see the lock was broken.

Locked, the balcony’s double doors shifted flimsily when he pressed them. He pulled the doors toward him and exposed the inner mechanism of the lock. A drop of acid, and the doors came open.

Mouse stepped onto the balcony. Wind rushed through his hair. The world spread before him, drenched in sunlight, none of the shadowy darkness of the interior of the castle. His pupils narrowed painfully against the bright light, but he barely cared. He held out his arms and closed his eyes, drinking it in. So nice! How long has it been since I felt this?

Glancing around to make sure no one had spotted him, Mouse hopped over the bannister, wrapped his legs around the support pole below, and slid to the ground. His legs trembled, and his arms struggled to hold his weight, but he made it to the floor. Damn, I really have been lying around all day. Mouse grimaced and stretched. Need to work these limbs out!

Bare feet met soft grass. He walked softly, careful to mind the rocks and branches lying on the ground. Birds sang in the trees, and in the distance, servants called to one another. Mouse hummed to himself, idly brushing his hair with his fingers.

The stable came up on his right. A stable boy hustled out the door, carrying a load of hay that towered over hie head, face pressed to the hay to help stabilize it, eyes screwed up. Mouse raised his hand over his face. Magic responded sluggishly, more the way he was used to. Rather than not having enough, though, this felt more as if something blocked it. He frowned and focused, forcing the magic into shape. At last, he dropped his hand, and the stable boy stood in his place.

A pair of mud-stained boots stood near the entrance of the stable. He slipped them on, not wanting to get horse shit all over his feet, and wandered inside. Hands behind his back, he inspected each of the stalls, slowly drawing closer to Spar’s at the end. A smile crawled over his face. Won’t he be surprised when he sees me.

Spar’s stall stood empty. Dust motes floated in the light, leaving the space hazy. In the upper corners, cobwebs stretched, and the hay on the ground had a gray cast to it, old and stale.

Mouse stared. Where the hell did he go? Don’t tell me he left…

“Hey! You! Where’s that hay I asked for?” a gruff voice snapped.