Froella could not stand it anymore. That boywas trying his damndest to drive her further and further away from the word God, who took sole priority in her life. He probably wasn't even a Christian—those gypsies settled in Europe from all over the world, bringing all sorts of their filthy pagan religions with them.

She met with her priest, telling him the contents of her thoughts but not divulging too much information. He told her that he was disgusted, as was to be expected, but putting his personal sentiments aside. Told her to think about this long and hard. But she had been—that was exactly the problem. She could not expel the dark-skinned, single-hooped, muscularly-toned, green-eyed gypsy from her thoughts no matter how hard she tried.

But Froella was a nun. She served the Lord first, then the Church second, France third. And what better way to honor her final commitment than make sure the capital of her home was scum-free once and for all?

Froella obsessively paced the same circle in her quarters, until she heard a knock on the door. "Come in," Froella barked. Phoebe closed the door behind her and Froella let her have it.

"Phoebe de Chateaupers! What in the world is the meaning of this?"

"The meaning of what?"

"Don't give me coy. Why were you all on top of him? The gypsy boy in that little performance you gave today. Rubbing his back, going like this with his chin and stuff… ? I need an honorable woman to be my advisor, not some rotten concubine."

Phoebe's jaw dropped. "Sister, listen… "

"You listen!"

"I only touched him because it's what you asked me to do and pretty soon I'll be expecting a raise. My cousin too. Use some of your clout to do something productive. Convince the King to increase our pay, why don't ya."

"You come from a high born family of wealth and prosperity. You could have had any man you wanted."

"Hey, I don't want your little gypsy bum. I only did what you asked of me!"

"That's enough! I'm not listening to this!"

Froella lifted her habit, grabbed the dagger concealed in her thigh and stabbed Phoebe right in the chest. She staggered and walked a bit before her knees gave.

"I knew I should have worn armor today…"

Oh God.Dear God, what had she done? Froella scuttled down the hall and tossed the knife out of the window. She smoothed her habit, her mind tick-tick-ticking. How was she going to cover this up? Then she knew…

During prayer, Froella walked into the foyer of Notre Dame, her eyes red-rimmed.

"Why sister, what's the matter?" the fools asked. "What's the matter, sister?"

"I went into the nun's quarters to do my daily devotional when I found my beloved Phoebe—Captainess of the King's Archers de Chateaupers—dead."

There were gasps among them. One let out a sob almost instantly.

"The rest of my nuns could have easily walked in on that God-forsaken, grisly sight I pray no one has to see." Froella flicked a tear from her eye and wrung her handkerchief. "That gypsy boy was the last person seen talking to her. I knew he was a bad influence on this cathedral, but I never dreamed he would stoop to this. And I was the one nun who wanted to give him a chance. Take him in, give him a meal…"

"Ten pieces of silver for the boy," one of the guards commanded and Froella was so overjoyed that she didn't mind him cutting her off. "He could be hiding in your cellars, on your rooftops. He could be hiding under your milking stools. For the love of God, at the very least let us help him repent for his crime. Lord knows his kind needs it the most."

The crowd dispersed, on the lookout for the boy who committed the horrible crime and Froella threw the snot rag behind her. (How could people carry those things around when they were in mourning?) She would ask forgiveness for cutting the thread of Phoebe's life later—it was much more important that the gypsy would be taken care of now.

Gypsy… ?

She could have sworn she saw a dark face beneath a babushka, their feet scampering away. Was there one of them here? Just a moment ago?

In these esteemed halls of the cathedral? No. Never. Nonsense.

All the same, Froella's cunning smile began to slowly waver.