It had been a week since the punishment in the courtyard. The ache in her knees had faded, but something else had settled in its place, raw and restless, like a bruise beneath the skin. It wasn’t just the lingering headaches. It was the sense that she had been warned. She’d said no to the pull and paid for it. Would there be more punishments, if she kept resisting?

  By the seventh day, Minnie found herself once again in the hallway outside the menagerie door, heart pounding, breath shallow, wondering if it would ever open for her again.

  It did.

  Herman was curled on the sofa, absorbed in what looked remarkably like knitting. How he managed it without thumbs was beyond her, probably magic. The golden fabric shimmered faintly with each motion, as if he were spinning light itself. He looked up as she entered, his crossed eyes locking onto hers like he’d been waiting.

  “Well, well,” he purred, finishing the row with a flick of his paw. “If it isn’t Miss Tardy herself.”

  Minnie stepped inside, stiff and uncertain. “Sorry,” she said, her voice unsteady. “There were… unforeseen circumstances.”

  His whiskers twitched. “What sort of circumstances?”

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  She tried for lightness, but it came out thin. “Oh, you know. The usual. Push and pull. Ups and downs. The occasional forced humiliation.”

  A beat of silence. Then Herman blinked, slow, deliberate. His golden eyes saw beyond appearances.

  “You’re still running around, little mouse,” he said, almost gently. “Well done.”

  He spread the unfinished cloak out on the cushion before him and gestured for her to place the items. Minnie unwrapped the linen quiet care and placed the items she collected on the shimmering fabric, side by side: the rose thorns, the cinder and the threads of spider silk.

  Herman let out a soft, reverberating purr, not quite words, but full of shape and meaning. The objects sank into the golden fabric one by one, leaving no trace but a subtle change in its shimmer.

  “Done,” he said, low and pleased. “It’ll make you unseen, but only to mortals. Don’t test it on the Crone. She’ll spot you faster than a cat spots string. Might even take it personally.”

  Minnie frowned. “And if she does?”

  Herman stretched, front paws reaching luxuriously forward. “Then you’ll be visible, flammable, and very much out of luck.”

  He said it lightly, but Minnie didn’t miss the tension in his tone, the twitch at the corner of his mouth, the way his tail flicked.

  “The guard’s coming back. You’d better scram.”

  Minnie turned toward the door, but he spoke again, just as she reached it.

  “Next time you come,” he said, voice quieter now, “I’ll show you something interesting. Bring chicken feed.”

  Cryptic as ever.

  Minnie slipped out, heart quickening as the door clicked shut behind her. The cloak, folded and hidden beneath her apron, felt warm against her ribs. Not heavy, but present. Like a secret that wanted to be told.

  She hurried on, weaving through the castle’s dim corridors, her tray now lighter but her thoughts far from it.