8
THE sun had barely begun to rise over the horizon, casting a pale, golden light across the circus grounds. Madellaine stepped out of her tent, the cold morning air brushing against her skin as the sounds of the waking circus filled the air. The faint aroma of roasted chestnuts mingled with the scent of hay and wood smoke, while the distant clatter of dishes signaled the troupe members preparing an early lunch. Boots scampered ahead of her, his little feet barely making a sound on the packed earth.
"Wait up, Boots," she called after him with a soft laugh, adjusting the shawl around her shoulders as she quickened her pace. The little mouse paused, twitching his whiskers at her in what seemed like an impatient gesture before darting off again, heading toward the practice area where the acrobats usually trained after breakfast.
Madellaine smiled as she followed Boots, but a familiar unease twisted in her chest. The sight of the tightrope ahead mirrored the precarious balance she was trying to maintain—between the person she pretended to be and the person she feared she truly was.
Days had passed since that night with Quasimodo, but the memory of it clung to her as if it had only just happened. Paris, once just another stop on the circus's endless journey, had become something far more—a sanctuary she hadn't known she needed.
Each morning, she found herself drawn back to the cathedral, her steps guided by a pull she couldn't quite explain, as if Quasimodo's presence was a beacon of light in a world she had long perceived as dark.
There was something about him—something pure, untainted by the shadows of the world she had known. His smile, hesitant yet unwavering, had etched itself into her heart, a reminder of the kindness and sincerity she had once thought only existed in stories. In his company, she felt an unfamiliar sense of safety, a warmth she hadn't known she could still feel after years of wandering at Sarousch's command, living a life marked by deception and fear.
But now, as they neared the practice area, Madellaine's steps faltered. The secret she carried weighed heavily on her, a burden that grew with each passing day. She needed to unburden herself, to find clarity in the chaos of her emotions. And though Boots was just a small companion, he was the only one she could confide in for now.
"What do you think of Quasi, Boots?" she murmured, her voice tinged with a quiet vulnerability she rarely allowed herself to feel.
The little mouse paused, turning back to look at her with his bright, beady eyes as if considering her question. Madellaine chuckled softly, shaking her head at her own silliness.
"I know, I know…you can't really answer, but I like to think you understand me." She sighed as they reached the edge of the practice area, the tightrope looming before her like a silent judge.
She chose a spot near the ropes that offered some privacy yet was close enough to catch someone's eye if she needed help. But it wasn't physical help she was worried about. No, it was the weight of the truth she carried that threatened to unbalance her.
"How am I ever going to tell him?" she whispered, her voice barely carrying over the gentle morning breeze.
The little mouse paused and looked up at her with those bright, understanding eyes.
"How can I tell Quasi that Sarousch plans to steal from the cathedral?" she continued, her voice trembling. "How can I tell him that the man I work for—the man who took me in—is planning to betray him and everyone in Paris?"
She sank to her knees, her shoulders slumping as the full weight of her emotions crashed over her. "What will he think of me?" she whispered, her throat tightening with emotion. "When he learns the truth about Sarousch, will he hate me too? Will he think I was part of it, that I was helping Sarousch all along?"
Tears began to well up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she imagined the hurt and betrayal Quasimodo might feel. "I never wanted this, Boots," she said, her voice breaking. "I didn't choose to be a part of this. But if I don't say anything, if I don't warn Quasi, then I'm just as guilty, aren't I?" The tears she had been holding back began to spill over, streaking down her cheeks. "But if I tell him," she continued, her voice choked with sobs, "if I tell him everything, he'll know what I've been hiding. He'll know that I've been lying to him, even if it was to protect him. How could he ever trust me again?"
The thought of losing Quasimodo's trust, of seeing the disappointment and hurt in his eyes, was a pain sharper than any she had ever known. She had found something special with him, something she had never expected to find, and now it felt like it was slipping away before it had even begun.
"Maybe he's better off without me," she whispered, her tears falling freely now. "Maybe…maybe he deserves someone who isn't so afraid, someone who isn't tied to someone like Sarousch."
Boots scurried over to her, nuzzling her hand in a gentle attempt to comfort her. She felt his tiny paws against her skin, a reminder that she wasn't completely alone, even in this moment of despair.
"Oh, Boots," she sobbed, her voice muffled by her hands. "What am I going to do? How can I ever make this right?" Madellaine stroked Boots' fur, her tears falling onto his soft coat as she tried to calm herself. The fear, guilt, and overwhelming sense of helplessness were still there, heavy in her chest. After a long moment, she wiped her tears with the back of her hand, taking a shaky breath as she looked down at Boots.
"I...I can't keep this secret any longer," she said softly, her voice hoarse from crying. "I have to tell him, even if it means he hates me for it." Her resolve was still fragile, but it was growing stronger with each word. Quasimodo deserved the truth, and she had to find the courage to give it to him. "Thank you for listening, Boots," she whispered, placing a gentle kiss on the top of his head before setting him down. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
She stood up slowly, her legs unsteady beneath her, but with a renewed sense of purpose. The path ahead was uncertain, and the outcome might be painful, but she couldn't hide from it any longer. As she took a few deep breaths, grounding herself in the present, the tightrope came into view. With Boots scampering at her side, Madellaine approached it, her mind shifting focus.
For a moment, she paused, letting the lingering weight of her emotions settle. Then, as if drawing strength from the very air around her, she straightened her shoulders. She needed to do this, both for herself and for Quasimodo.
Today, she wasn't just Madellaine—she was the Magnificent Madellaine, ready to conquer the tightrope and, eventually, the truth.
A small smile tugged at her lips as she imagined the cheers of an invisible crowd, the way they'd gasp as she balanced high above them, each step a marvel of grace and skill.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she whispered to herself, her voice carried off by the wind, "prepare to be amazed by the one and only, Magnificent Madellaine!" With practiced ease, she climbed the ladder to the platform, each movement filled with purpose. At the top, she paused, looking down at the tightrope stretched taut below her. The ground seemed farther away than usual, but that only added to the thrill.
Boots continued to watch her with curious eyes as she began her practice.
"Now, watch as Madellaine defies gravity itself!" she softly declared, as though addressing an eager audience. The words bolstered her confidence, even though only she could hear them. She placed one foot on the rope, feeling the rough fibers beneath her toes. Her other foot followed, and though she wobbled slightly, she quickly regained her balance. As she took another step, her focus sharpened, a familiar voice echoing in her mind.
You can do this, Madellaine. I know you can. Quasimodo's voice, gentle and encouraging, filled her thoughts. She could almost feel his presence beside her, steadying her, just as he had during their time together in the bell tower.
"The crowd watches in stunned silence as Madellaine takes her first daring step, beginning her graceful trick," she murmured, her voice light despite her pounding heart. She took another step, arms outstretched for balance, her bare feet gripping the rope as the cold seeped into her skin.
But the imagined cheers of the crowd in her mind spurred her on, as did the memory of Quasimodo's kind smile.
You've got this, she heard him say, and her lips curved into a small, determined smile.
The thought of him filled her with warmth and confidence, and she couldn't help but whisper, "Quasi, you're always with me these days, aren't you?" She chuckled softly at the idea, then turned her gaze down to Boots, who was watching her intently from his perch. "Boots," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "he's different, you know? Kind and gentle, but there's something more, something that makes me feel… safe." Her words trailed off as she took another careful step forward, the tightrope swaying slightly beneath her.
Boots twitched his nose as if urging her to continue. Madellaine smiled, feeling a sudden warmth spread through her chest. "It's like he sees me, really sees me, in a way no one else ever has. And I see him too, not just his appearance, but who he is inside. He's so much more than what people see on the outside. I just wish he could see himself the way I do." She paused for a moment, balancing carefully on the rope, her thoughts focused on Quasimodo. "But he's with me, even now," she whispered, her confidence growing. "And with him in my heart, I know I can do this."
Madellaine took a deep breath as she continued, her focus narrowing to the thin line beneath her feet. The rope swayed slightly, but she moved with steady precision, each step a delicate balance of skill and determination. The sky above was a soft blue, the golden light of morning casting a serene glow, but inside, her emotions churned like a storm.
As she neared the end of the rope, a mix of relief and resolve welled up within her. This moment, this crossing, felt like more than just a performance—it was a reflection of the inner balance she was striving to maintain.
Finally, her feet touched solid ground. A calm determination settled over her. The road ahead was uncertain, but with Quasimodo in her thoughts and Boots by her side, she felt ready to face whatever came next.
Madellaine was just about to search for Colette and Erik for advice when a sudden, piercing scream shattered the morning air. The cry of a child, terrified and desperate, echoed through the camp, startling her and sending a chill down her spine. She froze for a moment, her heart pounding as she registered the sound, then her instincts kicked in.
"Boots, did you hear that?" she whispered, her voice trembling with urgency. The little mouse looked up at her, his tiny body tense as if he, too, sensed the danger. Madellaine scooped Boots up quickly, tucking him into the pocket of her skirt. "Stay close to me, Boots," she murmured before taking off at a run, her heart racing as she followed the direction of the scream. The sound led her through the maze of tents and wagons, her mind spinning with worry.
What could have happened? Who was in danger? The questions swirled in her head, but she pushed them aside, focusing instead on the need to reach the source of the screams.
As she rounded a corner, the sight before her made her blood run cold. Zephyr, Esmeralda and Phoebus's young son, was caught in a deadly dance between two massive horses. The animals, locked in a fierce struggle, reared and kicked, their powerful hooves coming perilously close to the terrified boy.
"Zephyr!" Madellaine screamed, her voice high with fear as she sprinted toward him.
Zephyr was desperately trying to dodge the horses, his small frame nearly lost between the thrashing beasts. His wide, terrified eyes locked onto Madellaine as she closed the distance, his mouth opening in another scream for help.
Without thinking, Madellaine dove forward, her arms outstretched as she reached for Zephyr. She barely managed to grab his arm, yanking him away just as one of the horse's hooves slammed into the ground where he had been standing. The force of her pull sent them both tumbling to the ground, but they were clear of the danger.
"Stay down!" Madellaine gasped, her voice trembling as she tried to shield Zephyr with her body. The boy was shaking, his face pale with fear, but he was alive.
The two horses continued their violent struggle, the sound of their hooves pounding against the earth deafening. Madellaine glanced up, her heart still hammering in her chest as she saw the massive black Friesian rear up once more, its hooves dangerously close to striking them.
"Zephyr, we have to move!" she urged, her voice frantic as she pulled him to his feet. She could see Achilles, Phoebus's white Andalusian, trying to distance himself from the Friesian, but the other horse was relentless, driven by some unknown fury.
Just as Madellaine was about to push Zephyr out of harm's way again, the boy's voice broke through her panic, his words barely audible over the chaos.
"Help! Somebody, please!"
Before Madellaine could react, Erik and Colette came running into view, their faces pale with shock as they took in the scene. Erik wasted no time, moving with the practiced efficiency of a man who had dealt with dangerous animals all his life.
"Madellaine, get Zephyr out of here!" Erik shouted, his voice steady despite the urgency in his eyes. "I'll handle the horses!"
Madellaine didn't need to be told twice. She grabbed Zephyr's hand, pulling him away from the fray as Colette hurried to her side, helping to guide the boy to safety. They moved quickly, putting as much distance between themselves and the struggling horses as possible. Once they were a safe distance away, Madellaine knelt in front of Zephyr, her hands gripping his shoulders as she looked him over for any injuries.
"Are you hurt, Zephyr?" she asked, her voice soft but shaking.
Zephyr shook his head, though his eyes were still wide with fear. "I-I'm okay, Madellaine," he stammered, tears welling up in his eyes. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I was just trying to see Tiberius, and then the horses started fighting..."
Madellaine's heart ached at the sight of the boy's distress. She pulled him into a tight hug, her tears threatening to spill over. "It's okay, Zephyr," she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady. "You're safe now. That's all that matters."
As she held Zephyr, Madellaine glanced over her shoulder to see Erik working his calming magic on the horses. The massive Friesian, its fury slowly ebbing under Erik's soothing touch, began to settle, its wild eyes softening. Achilles, too, seemed to calm down, his stance relaxing as the tension in the air dissipated.
With the immediate danger passed, Madellaine felt a wave of relief wash over her, though it was quickly followed by the return of the dread she had been feeling earlier. She looked down at Boots, who peeked out of her pocket, his small eyes filled with concern.
"What would Quasi think if he knew?" she whispered, the question that had been haunting her resurfacing with renewed force. "If he knew about Sarousch's plans…if he knew what I've been hiding…would he still trust me? Would he still…care for me?"
Tears welled in her eyes again, but she blinked them back, trying to stay strong. She couldn't let her emotions overwhelm her, not when Zephyr needed her to be calm and collected. But the fear of what was to come, of how Quasimodo might react when he learned the truth, was almost too much to bear.
Before she could dwell on it further, Colette's voice broke through her thoughts. "Madellaine, are you alright?" she asked, her tone filled with concern as she reached out to touch Madellaine's arm.
Madellaine forced herself to smile, though it wavered. "I-I'm fine," she lied, her voice strained. "I just…we need to get Zephyr home. His parents must be worried sick."
Colette nodded, glancing at the boy who still clung to Madellaine's side. "You're right. Let's get him out of here."
Madellaine nodded, standing up and offering Zephyr a reassuring smile. "Come on, Zephyr. Let's get you back to your parents."
As they began to walk away from the scene, Madellaine couldn't shake the heavy feeling in her heart. The incident with the horses had been terrifying, but the thought of what she still had to face with Quasimodo was even more daunting. She knew she couldn't delay the truth any longer, but the fear of what it might bring kept gnawing at her.
With Zephyr's small hand in hers, and Boots still safely tucked in her pocket, Madellaine made her way through the camp, her mind a swirl of emotions. She would take Zephyr home, and then, somehow, she would find the courage to face Quasimodo and tell him everything. But for now, all she could do was focus on getting through the next few minutes, one step at a time.
As they walked, Madellaine could see that Zephyr was still visibly shaken. Trying to distract him and herself from the lingering tension, she asked softly, "Zephyr, do you know who that other horse belongs to?"
Zephyr frowned, his expression turning serious. "It's Papa's lieutenant's horse now," he whispered, almost as if afraid to speak the next words. "But it used to belong to Judge Frollo, Quasi's old master."
Madellaine's blood ran cold, and she froze, her heart racing. The name "Frollo" made her shiver. Even though the circus troupe wasn't in Paris during the burning, she remembered Frollo as a menacing figure, a man who never smiled and ruled with an iron fist.
The fact that he had been Quasimodo's master—someone Quasimodo was reluctant to talk about—made it even more chilling. She glanced away from Zephyr, shifting her focus back to Erik, who was now calming the two horses. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself.
"Thank you for telling me, Zephyr," she said softly, her voice tinged with concern. She glanced sideways at Colette, whose expression mirrored her own unease, but she tried to push aside the unsettling thoughts swirling in her mind.
As they continued walking, Madellaine was relieved to see Zephyr's usual energy returning. He looked up at her with wide eyes, suddenly blurting out, "Mama was hoping to see you today!"
Madellaine raised an eyebrow, surprised by the abrupt shift in topic. "She was?"
Zephyr nodded eagerly. "Yeah! She wanted to invite you to lunch with us and Quasi in the bell tower."
Madellaine's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Quasimodo. The thought of sharing a meal with him and Esmeralda's family was both exciting and nerve-wracking. "That sounds wonderful," she said softly, a smile spreading across her face. "I'd love to join you all."
Zephyr grinned, pleased that she seemed happy about the idea. But then, as if something had just clicked in his young mind, he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "I think Quasi likes you."
Madellaine felt her cheeks flush at his words. "Oh, Zephyr, what makes you say that?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light, though her heart was racing.
Zephyr scrunched his nose, clearly finding the topic of love a bit distasteful. "I don't know, he just talks about you a lot. And he smiles when he does. You know, like the way Papa smiles at Mama when he thinks no one's looking."
Madellaine couldn't help but laugh at the boy's innocent observation, even as her heart fluttered with a mixture of hope and nervousness. "Well, that's very sweet of him," she said, trying to hide the blush that was creeping up her neck. "But I think we should keep that between us, okay? It can be our little secret."
Zephyr nodded, though he made a face as if he found the whole concept of romance a bit gross. "Okay, but it's still weird," he said, his tone matter-of-fact.
Madellaine chuckled, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "You're right, Zephyr. It can be a little weird sometimes." As they walked on, Madellaine's thoughts were a whirlwind. The idea that Quasimodo might feel something for her—something more than friendship—was both thrilling and terrifying. And now, with the lunch invitation, it seemed she would have a chance to find out if Zephyr's innocent observation held any truth.
Madellaine paused as they reached Phoebus and Esmeralda's home, the cozy, welcoming sight of the small and modest house brought a sense of comfort to Madellaine. The bright flowers in the window boxes swayed gently in the chilly autumn breeze, and the warm, inviting scent of herbs and freshly baked bread wafted through the air. Madellaine paused just before they reached the door, turning to Zephyr with a thoughtful expression.
"Zephyr," she asked softly, "what about your father's horse? Achilles—won't he need help finding his way back?"
Zephyr grinned up at her, his earlier anxiety seemingly forgotten. "Oh, don't worry about Achilles," he said with a confidence that only a child could muster. "He knows his way home. He's super smart, and Papa always says he's the best horse in Paris."
Madellaine couldn't help but smile at Zephyr's unwavering faith in the horse. "Well, I'm glad to hear that. Achilles must be quite the special horse."
"He is!" Zephyr nodded vigorously. "He's brave and strong, just like Papa. And he always finds his way back, no matter what."
Satisfied with his answer, Madellaine gave him a warm smile. "Alright, let's get you inside then." With that, she reached up and gently knocked on the door. The sound echoed softly, and for a moment, there was only the quiet rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of the city. Then, footsteps could be heard from within, growing closer until the door creaked open to reveal Esmeralda, her face lighting up with a smile when she saw them.
"Madellaine!" Esmeralda exclaimed, her eyes warm with welcome. "What a pleasant surprise!"
Zephyr quickly released Madellaine's hand and ran to his mother, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Mama! I'm home!"
Esmeralda chuckled, ruffling Zephyr's hair affectionately. "I see that, my little adventurer. You're just in time to help with lunch too." She then turned to Madellaine, her expression softening. "Thank you for looking after him, Madellaine. You've always been so kind to him."
Madellaine returned the smile, though her mind was still on the events from earlier. "It was nothing, really. But... while we were out there, something happened with Achilles and another horse that I thought you should know about."
Esmeralda's expression turned more serious as she listened. "What is it? Did something happen to Achilles?"
Madellaine hesitated, then spoke softly. "Not exactly, but there was a bit of a... confrontation between Achilles and another horse. A black Friesian—Frollo's old horse, Snowball. Zephyr mentioned that your husband's lieutenant is now responsible for him. Zephyr was nearly hurt in the fight."
Esmeralda's eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and concern crossing her face. "Snowball? I had almost forgotten about him... I didn't realize he was still around."
Madellaine nodded. "He seemed... aggressive, as if he hadn't quite shaken off the past. Achilles managed to hold his own, but it was tense. Erik had to step in to calm them both down."
Esmeralda sighed, a shadow passing over her features. "Frollo left behind more than just scars on this city... even the animals that were tied to him carry that darkness." She paused, then looked at Madellaine with a hint of worry. "I'm glad Zephyr wasn't hurt, but we'll need to be more careful. Snowball might never fully adjust."
Madellaine reached out and gently touched Esmeralda's arm. "Achilles is strong, and I'm sure he'll continue to protect your family. But I thought you should know, just in case."
Esmeralda nodded, her gratitude evident. "Thank you, Madellaine. We'll make sure to keep an eye on Snowball—and Zephyr." Esmeralda then looked down at Zephyr, her gaze tender but firm. "Zephyr, you know you're supposed to tell us where you're going. It's important to stay safe, especially in the city."
Zephyr nodded, his earlier bravado fading as he looked up at his mother with wide, apologetic eyes. "I'm sorry, Mama. I won't do it again, I promise."
Esmeralda's expression softened further, and she knelt to hug him close. "I know, sweetheart. Just remember, we worry about you because we love you."
Zephyr hugged her back tightly, nodding into her shoulder. "I know, Mama. I love you too."
Madellaine watched the tender exchange, her heart warmed by the obvious love between mother and son. When Esmeralda finally stood, she turned her attention back to Madellaine with a smile.
"Why don't you come in? We were just about to start preparing lunch, and you're more than welcome to join us."
Madellaine hesitated at the door, her heart pounding as Esmeralda's invitation lingered in her mind. The thought of being in such an intimate setting with Quasimodo, Phoebus, Esmeralda, and Zephyr filled her with a mix of excitement and dread.
"I—um," she stammered, trying to find the right words. "Thank you, Esmeralda, really, but I—uh—I think I'd better meet you all at the bell tower instead. I just... I—I have a few things back at the camp I need to take care of first."
Esmeralda's warm smile didn't falter, though her eyes held a touch of understanding. "Of course, Madellaine. We'll meet you and Quasi at the bell tower in a little bit then."
Madellaine nodded, a small, relieved smile on her face. "Thank you," she managed, her voice still a bit shaky. She turned to leave, feeling a bit of the tension ease as she stepped outside.
Colette, who had been quietly observing the exchange, frowned slightly, her brows knitting together in concern. She clearly wanted to ask what was wrong but held back, staying silent as she followed Madellaine out the door.
Once they were outside and walking away from the house, the autumn breeze brushing against their faces, Colette could no longer hold her curiosity back. She stopped abruptly, turning to face Madellaine with a mixture of concern and confusion.
"Madellaine, what's going on?" Colette asked, her voice gentle but insistent. "Why didn't you want to join them at the house?"
Madellaine bit her lip, looking down at the ground as she tried to gather her thoughts. She felt a rush of emotions—uncertainty, fear, and the ever-present weight of the secret she was carrying about Sarousch's plans.
"It's just..." she began, struggling to put her feelings into words. "It's complicated, Colette. I want to be there, with them, with Quasi, but... I'm scared. There are things I haven't told them, things I'm not sure I can tell them."
Colette's frown deepened, but she remained quiet, giving Madellaine the space to continue.
"I'm worried about what Quasi will think of me if he finds out everything," Madellaine whispered, her voice trembling. "I'm afraid it will change everything between us."
Colette reached out and gently placed a hand on Madellaine's arm, her expression softening. "You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is, I'm here for you."
Madellaine looked up at her friend, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. "I know, Colette. And I promise, I'll tell you everything soon. I just... I need to figure out how to do it."
Colette nodded slowly, her concern still evident but tempered with understanding. "Alright. Just remember, you don't have to go through this alone."
Madellaine gave her a small, appreciative smile. "Thank you, Colette. I just need a little more time."
With that, they continued their walk, the weight of Madellaine's unspoken worries hanging in the air between them. But even as the silence stretched, the bond of friendship between them remained strong, offering a sense of comfort amidst the uncertainty.
Madellaine and Colette returned to the camp, the tension from their earlier conversation hanging in the air. Their unease quickly gave way to curiosity when they noticed Erik in conversation with a young soldier standing near the now-calmer horse.
The soldier, dark-haired and strikingly handsome, appeared not much older than Madellaine. He was visibly winded, clutching a stitch in his side, his face flushed as if he had been running. Drawing closer, Madellaine and Colette began to catch snippets of the exchange between Erik and the soldier.
"...damn that horse," the soldier muttered, frustration evident in his tone. "This is the third time this week he's gotten away from me. Snowball's a nightmare. Always cranky, biting at anyone who gets close, and now he's even taken to stealing apples from the vendor's carts when we're on patrol. If he can't be tamed, I should just put him out of his misery."
Madellaine couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the name. "Snowball? For a completely black horse?"
The soldier, who Madellaine guessed must be Phoebus's lieutenant, Frederic, shot her an irritated look but continued his rant. "Yes, Snowball. I didn't name him! And he's been nothing but trouble since Frollo's gone. I can't handle him anymore."
Erik, who had been observing the situation with his usual calm demeanor, stepped forward with a measured response. "If you're willing, I can take him off your hands. I might have better luck with him."
Frederic looked taken aback, his irritation softening slightly as he considered the offer. He seemed almost relieved at the prospect of handing over the troublesome horse, but before he could respond, a sharp, authoritative voice cut through the air, causing Madellaine's blood to run cold.
"What's going on out here, gentlemen?"
Madellaine turned slowly to see Sarousch approaching, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. His sharp gaze flicked from the subdued horses to the exasperated Frederic, and finally to Madellaine and Colette.
Sarousch's expression was a mix of mild annoyance and curiosity, his presence immediately casting a shadow over the moment.
Madellaine's heart raced as she tried to find the right words, knowing how Sarousch could twist situations to his advantage.
"Master," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "there was a bit of a commotion with the horses. They got into a fight, and Captain Phoebus's son, Zephyr, was nearly hurt. Erik was just helping to calm them down."
Sarousch's eyes narrowed further as he scanned the scene, assessing the situation with his usual calculating demeanor. "And this other horse was involved?"
"Yes," Frederic cut in, still sounding irritable. "He got away from me, Monsieur. Again. I'm fed up with this beast. I was about to see if your tamer here could manage him."
Sarousch's gaze shifted to Erik, then to Snowball, who now stood quietly but with a wary expression. After a moment of consideration, Sarousch nodded curtly. "I don't want any trouble. If Erik thinks he can handle it, then fine. Erik, just make sure he doesn't cause any more problems."
Erik lowered his head respectfully. "I'll take care of it, Sarousch. You have my word. We'll make sure Snowball is managed properly."
Frederic let out a breath of relief, his frustration ebbing away. "Thank you," he muttered to Erik, his tone more subdued now. "I appreciate it."
Erik simply nodded, his calm and steady presence a contrast to the earlier chaos. "We'll take good care of him," he assured Frederic.
Madellaine's mind was still lingering on the tension in the air, her thoughts swirling around Snowball and the unsettling events of the morning. Just as she was beginning to process it all, Sarousch's voice cut through her reverie, sharp and commanding.
"Madellaine, come with me. I need to speak with you alone," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.
She nodded, feeling the eyes of Erik, Colette, and Frederic on her as she followed Sarousch into his caravan. The air seemed to grow thicker with each step, the cheerful morning light dimming as they entered the small, cluttered space. Sarousch moved with a determined purpose, motioning for her to step inside. She hesitated only briefly before crossing the threshold, the door closing behind her with a soft, but ominous, click.
The caravan, though draped in rich fabrics and filled with ornate trinkets, felt anything but comforting. Instead, the space was suffocating, the walls closing in as Sarousch turned to face her, his expression colder than she had ever seen. His lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line.
"Do you think it wise, trinket, to involve yourself in every little mess that comes our way?" he began, his voice low but edged with irritation. "Your job is to perform and serve me, not to meddle in things that don't concern you. Or have you forgotten your place?"
Madellaine swallowed hard, her mind scrambling for the right response. "I… I didn't mean to overstep, Master," she stammered, her voice quivering. "Zephyr was in danger. I just wanted to make sure he was safe."
Sarousch's eyes narrowed, his gaze cutting into her like a blade. She could feel the weight of his scrutiny, her heart pounding as she struggled to maintain her composure.
"Your concern for the boy is touching, trinket," he said, his words dripping with mockery. "But let me remind you," his voice sharpened, each word striking with cold precision, "your primary concern should be the circus and your duties to me. Nothing else."
Madellaine flinched, her mind racing. She had been careful—every secret visit to the bell towers, every quiet moment with Quasimodo. But Sarousch knew, somehow, he always knew. A bead of sweat formed at her temple, her heart thudding painfully in her chest.
"I know you've been avoiding me, Madellaine," Sarousch continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. The change in tone felt like a noose tightening around her neck. "Do you think I haven't noticed? Sneaking off to the bell towers to be with that monster."
His words struck her like a physical blow, and she struggled to keep her face impassive. She could feel his eyes boring into her, demanding answers, forcing her to confront the truth she had desperately tried to hide.
"What have you learned?" he demanded, his impatience barely masked by his growing fury. "Where are the treasures of Notre Dame hidden? We'll be leaving Paris soon, and I won't leave empty-handed."
Madellaine's thoughts raced as the silence thickened, filled with unspoken threats. The weight of her secrets pressed down on her, suffocating her. She hesitated, her voice faltering. "I… I don't remember," she lied, hoping he wouldn't see through her.
Sarousch's smile faded, replaced by a cold, calculating stare. "Madellaine, don't play games with me, trinket. You know how important this is."
She felt her throat tighten. "Please, I—I don't want to do this," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Sarousch's expression hardened as he abruptly stood, looming over her. "You say that as if you have a choice, Madellaine. Need I remind you that you don't? You belong to me, and you will do as I say."
A surge of defiance welled up within her, fueled by the memory of Quasimodo's kindness and encouragement. For too long, she had allowed Sarousch to control her. Now, she found a strength she hadn't known she possessed.
"No," she replied, her voice shaking but resolute. "I won't help you anymore. I want nothing to do with your thefts."
Sarousch's eyes widened in shock, then narrowed with rage. "What did you just say to me?" he hissed, his voice dangerously low.
"You heard me, Sarousch," Madellaine said, her courage growing with each word. "I'm done. I can't do this anymore. I won't."
He took a menacing step toward her, his face twisted with fury. "And how do you think you'll survive out there alone? On your looks? You think you can just walk away from me?"
Madellaine's heart raced, but she stood her ground, fists clenched at her sides. "I'll find a way. I don't need you anymore," she stammered, thinking of Quasimodo's belief in her. "Quasimodo sees something in me that you never could."
As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake. Sarousch's expression shifted, his anger giving way to a cruel smile.
"Ah, so it's the hunchback, is it? You've grown fond of him," he said slowly, his voice thick with sarcasm. "How touching."
Madellaine felt her face flush with fear and shame. "Th-that's not… I didn't mean…" she began, but Sarousch cut her off.
"No need to explain, my dear," he said, his tone mocking. "But let me make one thing clear: your feelings for that monster don't change a thing. You still belong to me, and you will do as I say."
Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "No," Madellaine whispered, her voice trembling but firm. "I won't."
Sarousch's eyes blazed with fury, and for a moment, she feared he might strike her. But instead, he took a deep breath, regaining his cold, calculating demeanor.
"Very well," he said softly. "If that's how you want to play it, then so be it. But don't think you can defy me without consequences, Madellaine." He leaned in closer, his voice a sinister whisper. "You'll return to me, one way or another. And if you don't, perhaps I should pay a visit to your dear Quasimodo. How long do you think he'd last, hanging from those bell towers he loves so much?"
Madellaine's blood ran cold. "No! You can't… You wouldn't," she pleaded, tears beginning to well in her eyes. "Please, Sarousch, leave him out of this."
Sarousch's smile widened, his eyes glinting with malice. "Oh, but I would, my little trinket. And I will unless you give me what I want. This is your last chance. The treasures of Notre Dame, or your precious hunchback's safety—your choice."
Madellaine's heart pounded, her mind reeling with the impossible decision before her. She couldn't betray Quasimodo, but the thought of Sarousch hurting him was unbearable. Her voice broke as she finally whispered, "On the main level of the church, near the prayer hall. The door is different from the rest."
Sarousch's expression brightened with triumph as his cruel smile returned. "Very good, Madellaine. You've made the right choice—this time."
He turned away from her, satisfied, and adjusted his cloak with a brisk motion. "But remember, this changes nothing between us. You're still mine, and I expect your full cooperation from now on." He opened the caravan door with a flourish, gesturing for her to leave. "Now get out," he commanded coldly. "And don't make me regret letting you walk away."
Madellaine stumbled out of the caravan, her heart heavy with guilt and fear. As she stepped into the bright sunlight, the weight of what she had just done settled on her like a leaden cloak. She had saved Quasimodo for now, but at what cost? The knowledge of her betrayal tore at her, and she knew she would have to find a way to make it right before it was too late.
Madellaine left Sarousch's caravan, her heart heavy with the weight of her confession. She needed to warn Quasimodo, to find a way to protect the treasures of Notre Dame. But first, she had to gather herself, to calm the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. As she made her way through the circus camp, she felt the eyes of the performers on her, though none of them said a word.
Her mind was focused on one thing: reaching Notre Dame and meeting Quasimodo in the bell tower for the lunch Esmeralda had mentioned. It would be the perfect opportunity to tell him everything, to come clean about Sarousch's plan and beg for his forgiveness.
Just as she was about to leave the camp, something caught her eye—Erik tending to Snowball. The sight of the old horse being cared for so gently by Erik drew her in, and before she knew it, she was walking over.
"Erik, about Snowball...how…how long do you think he has left?" Madellaine asked softly, her gaze fixed on the horse's tired eyes. "He looks old."
Erik paused, his hand resting on Snowball's withers as he considered her question. "Hard to say exactly," he replied thoughtfully. "Maybe another year or two, at most. He's certainly seen better days."
Madellaine's heart ached at the thought. "It must be tough to see him like this."
Erik nodded, a quiet sadness in his expression. "It is, but now that he's with me, I'm going to make sure he has a good life for however long he's got left. He deserves that much."
There was a quiet determination in Erik's voice that touched Madellaine. "It's good to know he's in such caring hands," she said, her voice filled with genuine warmth.
Erik gave her a reassuring smile. "I can tell he's been through a lot, but he's strong. We'll make sure he's comfortable and cared for."
Madellaine watched as Erik continued to tend to Snowball, feeling a deep sense of respect for the man's dedication. She took a deep breath, casting one last, thoughtful look at Snowball.
"Well, I-I should get going," she said softly. "I promised I'd meet the others for lunch at Notre Dame. I'll see you all later."
Erik glanced up, giving her a nod. "We'll see you then, Madellaine."
Madellaine turned to leave but stopped abruptly when Colette suddenly approached.
Colette studied her face, her eyes narrowing slightly as if sensing the turmoil beneath Madellaine's calm facade. "You'll be back tonight, right?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of worry.
Madellaine hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering, knowing she needed to keep up appearances.
"Yes, don't worry," she replied, her voice steady despite the anxiety gnawing at her.
With a final smile, she turned and continued on her way toward Notre Dame, her mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead. The path to the cathedral seemed longer than usual, the weight of her mission pressing down on her with every step.
As she approached the cathedral, the towering spires of Notre Dame loomed above her, casting long shadows that stretched across the ground. She paused for a moment, taking in the sight, trying to draw strength from the sacred place she had come to admire so much.
Steeling herself, she stepped into the narrow alleyway that led to the entrance of the bell tower.
The further she went, the darker and narrower the path became, and an unexpected sense of unease crept over her. The shadows seemed to close in around her, and for the first time, she felt a flicker of nervousness, something she hadn't anticipated, and that her hands were becoming clammy.
