The judge froze at the announcement and a chill ran up his spine. "From…from the King?" Frollo repeated, aghast. The clerked informed him the man inside was mum on whatever business he had here in Paris, only adding to the the Minister's new anxiety. Before Frollo entered his study, he quickly smoothed out his heavy robe and removed his hat. Appearing presentable and taking a calming breath, he entered, all the while his heart raced with the speed of a hare.

Inside he noted the bulky man whose arrogance was painted proudly over his expectant countenance. The royal colors he bore stood stark against the bleakness of Frollo's study. "Ah, Minister Frollo," he smoothly greeted, gold chains glimmering from the low sunlight streaming in. "On behalf of His Majesty, Louis the Tenth, I am Proctor Jean Lemoyne."

Respectfully, Frollo bowed his head and shook the man's hand, addressing, "An honor, sir. To what do I owe such a distinguished visit?"

"I wish I was here under more pleasant circumstances, but it was pertinent to the King that I give you this in person, as well as discuss the details." The man handed over a scroll sealed with the royal insignia, a dismal frown now adorning his round face.

A foreboding air now hung over his study and Frollo could feel his heartbeat thundering even louder in his chest. Bringing the message into the light, Frollo quickly read through the parchment and paled at the words. Finally, the repercussions of his actions seemed to have finally caught up with the long-suffering Minister. It took everything in his power to repress the trembling that threatened his hands holding the prospective death sentence.

He was dumbfounded, his eyes widening and betraying him for the news was not as damning as he feared. Relief suddenly struck him and in utter disbelief, Frollo asked as evenly as possible, "A…a "probationary period"?" He cursed himself for the hard swallow he took as the words settled in his mind.

"A slap on the wrist compared to punishments we've dealt other officials in the past," the proctor commented, his tone matter-of-fact. "It pains me to deliver such news, but your recent actions have called into question your judgment." His tone suggested that he might have been taking a bit of pleasure in seeing the Minister blanche at the notion.

My judgment was sound! Frollo internally protested, his chest tightening at such an accusation. Clearing his throat, he then met the beady eyes of the King's proctor. "Sir, may I ask as to what this is regarding?" he carefully inquired, despite having an educated guess. His heart leaped into his throat as he waited for an answer.

The man Lemoyne briefly cast him a quizzical look, as though saying, You can't be serious? He stroked at his own chin as if the matter were one of great contemplation, before sternly answering, "It's regarding this crusade of yours, which seems to have done a great deal of damage to your fine city. I don't think I need to remind you that the King does not appreciate having his funds depleted for unnecessary means."

"Forgive me, but it was my understanding that His Majesty had granted his personal and financial support to my cause. May I ask why he has suddenly issued this?" Frollo unwittingly curling his fingers tightly around the scroll which made his fist shake.

"While King Louis admires your dedication to Paris's well-being, he decided soon after that granting you the funds to find a single witch might not have been the most prudent decision."

"'Prudent'?" Frollo's other hand balled into a fist as well. "If I may be so bold, I would argue that eliminating witchcraft is very prudent." He practically spat the last word in contempt.

"No matter how noble the cause, Minister," the proctor's voice was tinged with sarcasm, raising a warning hand. "His Majesty urges you to not make any more requests of funds for such endeavors—unless Paris is under attack or starving. But the King will provide funds for the citizens' homes that were, well…destroyed in your hunt. You will return to your duties as usual, albeit, with a few restrictions as part of your punishment."

Frollo felt like some animal caught in a snare, waiting for the hunter to deliver the final strike. To be subjected to careful watch like some novice clerk would be humiliating, to say the least. However, was it worse than being led away in shackles for torching the country's main artery of commerce? He would rot in some moldy dungeon far from his home, or banished—left with nothing and forced to wander like Cain himself. Regaining his poised demeanor, he forced a careful answer, "His Majesty certainly is merciful with these requisites."

"I agree," Lemoyne added brightly, though appearing gleeful to see the judge be reminded of his place. "Louis holds you in high regard. Not many magistrates in his kingdom have been able to maintain tenure as you have. And you've seldom given him any reason to question your abilities—despite a few blemishes on an otherwise immaculate record."

Frollo's lip twitched being reminded of the few demerits tarnishing his professional record—never through any fault of my own, of course. He nodded, wishing he could unleash his own sharp words upon this messenger. Forcing a calm tone, Frollo then asked, "And what are the conditions to this probationary period?"

With his hands clasped behind his back, the proctor meandered towards one of the study's windows with feigned interest in the view above the city. Frollo in turn kept his steely eyes locked on this stranger, his frame tense. Lemoyne answered, "Louis requests a detailed report of your city's condition so that he may determine the proper funds for the damages. And I will return in a few weeks' time to report on the progress in this rebuilding. You know how crucial Paris's economy is to our kingdom, so I suggest you begin making repairs before she is completely ruined. And the King warns that if it's not returned to a reasonable state, you will be removed from office. That is, if he decides not to have you arrested…or worse."

Frollo was nauseated at the thought of his position being wrenched from his hands so easily—everything he had worked for, ripped away. Or finding himself kneeling before a chopping block and awaiting the swing of an axe. For twenty years he had been able to defend his case whenever his actions were called into question. Now he was truly walking on thin ice after this bout of destruction. Despite every finger which seemed to be pointing at him, he couldn't help the intense assumption that this was the doing of the gypsy dancer.

"It may have eluded you, but His Majesty has enough on his plate, with this business of absorbing Anjou," Lemoyne coldly added, giving the air of a classroom lecturer. "The legalities that come with acquiring new territory is much more pressing than this madcap behavior, I'm sure you agree."

Inwardly Frollo prayed that his folly could be shrouded by the kingdom's territorial affairs. Perhaps a few fires won't be cause for a royal excursion into Paris, he hoped, resisting the need to twist one of his rings in nervous habit, as he wouldn't show any more anxiety before this man. The very last thing he needed was a royal procession parading through the streets, an irate monarch leading and ready to have the judge hauled away.

"Not to mention that your methods are a little too resemblant of what the Spanish have been doing," the proctor added, pointing a damning finger for emphasis. "And I don't think I need to remind you that Louis doesn't want any activity that looks like it was approved by the Pope. Sixtus already regrets giving his blessing to the Spanish Crown on their inquisition. At the best of times, he and the King are simply contentious without waging a war."

"As long as Sixtus has been in Rome."

"Yes, so His Majesty wants to make sure that his officials have the nation's best interests at heart. Not those of some conniving whoreson who found his way to the Vatican, God bless him."

Devout as ever, Frollo gave a frown at the sacrilege. "Whoreson or not, he sits on Saint Peter's throne."

"And he is still not your sovereign, Minister. I think after decades in office you would have learned that we serve our King and country, then the Church. So remember where your allegiances lie."

Being talked down to like some foolhardy student was making the Minister's blood boil. He knew better than to press the matter further, especially if it meant wrapping up this discussion soon. He chose to offer a few short words of concession and understanding instead.

"As I've said: Louis speaks highly of you, Minister," the king's clerk continued, dark eyes flickering around the study. "He has great respect for your dedication to reducing crime at the hands of those gypsies. He tells of how for twenty years you have been hard at work in trying to elevate Paris, by means of purging them. Though it begs the question, Your Honor: what became of the famous…" He gave a haughty, snorting laugh and turning back to him. "Or rather, infamous gypsy dancer girl that you set your sights on?"

Frollo now felt like an insect about to be crushed under a workman's boot. He hadn't anticipated another—someone of greater power—calling into question his methods, let alone a man of the King's court, who held the judge's future in his beefy hands. Frollo considered his explanation carefully. "I am…" He paused uncomfortably, as he hated being lost for words like some inept student. "I have her in my care and I plan to reform her."

The proctor almost looked like he wanted to laugh again, instead opting for a knowing grin and rubbing his hands together, as if being able to read the judge's thoughts. "Do you? Right under your thumb, eh? Tell me though, can her kind really be trusted turn over a new leaf?"

Frollo straightened up, still trying not to let his anxiousness show. "I believe she is capable in adopting our ways. She's certainly shown to be clever enough that she might change."

"It's quite a risk, Claude," Lemoyne countered. Frollo was unsettled at the man's use of his first name, feeling that the proctor wanted to create a false sense of familiarity.

"Yes, it is, but I firmly believe it will be beneficial to both the girl and her people." Frollo quickly tried to push the memory of iron-clad gypsies sitting in the dungeons days ago out of his mind.

"Elaborate, please, then," Lemoyne challenged coyly. "As I'm sure the King would love to hear your reasoning, as would I."

"The gypsy Esmeralda holds incredible sway over the others of her race," Frollo drawled, praying that this off-the-cuff explanation could please even a man of Louis's court. "And if the city's gypsies see her accept Christ, they might be inspired to change their own heathen ways. After all, they hold her in the highest regard—as to why, who can say. And if there is even the slightest chance of putting her back in the streets, they will do everything in their power to ensure that…even the exchange of their own beliefs for the proper God-given ones."

Lemoyne pondered the judge's rationale momentarily, crossing his thick arms over his chest and nodding in understanding. Frollo's pace threatened to send his very heart through his chest, and he prayed that the clerk might believe this explanation.

After what seemed like an eternity, the King's messenger finally responded. "I can't promise that the King will look fondly on this, that is, if he even decides to back your plan. Personally, Minister, I believe it might be a bit of a longshot in putting so much faith in a simple gypsy."

It is not your place to decide anyway, you simple pawn, Frollo's inner thought cursed, as he fought a severe scowl from coloring his expression. "If His Majesty disapproves of my plan, I will happily welcome his sage insight." He forced a genial smile to indicate compliance with the royal word.

"He just might. The damage I witnessed on my way into Paris could stir even Louis to make a trip down from Tours. He doesn't take the words of the common people lightly—and if his people cannot attest to your efficacy, well…I think I've made my point very clear."

"Perfectly," the judge conceded. A heavy tension was now settling in the Minister's jaw and he attempted to steel himself by clasping his hands tightly behind his back.

Determined to get this man out of his office, Frollo then said, "Now, I'm sure you have other business to attend to besides relaying a message. I thank you for an illuminating discussion and vow to begin the work immediately. But please, don't let me keep you." He stepped toward the study door and was ready to wave the man off, who stood firmly in his place with an indiscernible expression. Frollo kept his eyes locked with the small, accusing ones of the proctor, as not to show intimidation. Diplomatically and hiding his discomfort, the judge asked, "Unless, there is an additional matter I can help with?"

Lemoyne took a confident step toward him and placed an friendly arm around him, steering him away from the door. "That detailed report I mentioned earlier, Claude," he patronizingly began. "You won't be taking account of the damage for the King…I will."

Frollo felt himself repulsed by a stranger's touch and wanted to swat the man's hand away, settling, instead, to grit his teeth and bear it. "You will?" he tested, feeling instantly foolish for asking.

"Until you're wholly back in His Majesty's good graces, he'd prefer that someone from his court be taking notes and estimating the resources needed. I'm sure you understand." Lemoyne gave him a friendly squeeze on the arm, which made the Minister's stomach turn. "As per his orders, we'll begin this little audit tomorrow with a tour of the city. Does that sound reasonable to you, Minister?"

Frollo offered another strained smile, praying his compliance was evident. "More than enough. Now then, how are you fixed for lodgings, my lord?" The judge despised this accommodation that he was forced to offer to a man whom he figured was set against him. "The Palace's doors are open to any gentleman worthy of the King's colors. Any need of refuge may be remedied by its hospitality."

Lemoyne finally released him and answered, "That's more than kind of you, Minister, but His Majesty has arranged my lodgings at a very reputable inn nearby. He'd prefer avoiding a conflict of interest, you see. I should be returning anyway, but I will return tomorrow morning and we may begin your assessment."

Frollo forced himself to appear collected, even though the fickle nature of their monarch was proving to be burdensome to him. No good deed goes unpunished, he grimly mused. In the most professional tone, he responded, "I understand completely, and humbly thank His Majesty for being so gracious in his decisions. I swear that I will have Paris restored to her former glory in no time, sir."

"Excellent," Lemoyne beamed, reaching a hand for the door handle. "Remember, Your Honor: while this is a warning, the court still views you as a capable Minister of Justice. But no more witch hunts!" Despite the humor in his voice and subsequent laugh, it did not ease the Minister whatsoever.

"Of course," Frollo agreed, simply eager to get this man out of his study and put an end to this torture.

X

Esmeralda wiped a light coating of dust on a chest in one of the many rooms in this dull work. Although she wasn't entirely proud of the idea of helping to clean up the Devil's den, she reasoned it beat sitting in solitude in her chambers. She thought to herself how her brother would be just livid at the very idea. She could practically hear his voice crying out, "I'd take a flint and torch the place from the inside, if I were you!" But whatever could make this agreement more bearable, just short of destruction.

"So have you worked here long?" Esmeralda asked amiably and glancing over at her new companion.

The servant girl Lucile never broke from her own work as she cleaned the high windows and answered, "My whole life. My family has worked here in the Palace for many years so they've seen their fair share of ministers."

"So you've pretty much grown up under Frollo's roof?"

"Oh yes, but things have almost always remained the same." The young woman had become more relaxed in the gypsy's presence, answering inquiries, albeit, with some apprehension. "The only time I can remember anything truly out of the ordinary—well, besides these last few weeks—was a few years ago when his brother left."

Esmeralda found herself smirking as she had long forgotten the infamous younger Frollo brother, and Clopin's tales from the tavern when their paths had crossed. "Was he a lot of trouble when he was living here?" she asked, noting the ornate candelabras adorning almost every surface of the room.

"Well actually, Judge Frollo barred him from living here at the Palace. I suppose his brother just caused him too much grief."

The man really likes his solitude, Esmeralda darkly noted as she momentarily wondered what became of the younger Frollo. She then asked, "Do you remember why he skipped town?"

Moving onto the second window, Lucile tensed up as she carefully answered. "I wish I could recall but the Minister kept the whole thing so private that nobody really remembers what happened between them."

"And I'm sure he'd be just as tight-lipped about it if I try to ask."

"He's always been a private man. It would be in your best interest not to pry, my lady," the servant girl warned, offering a concerned glance.

"He can stay as closed up as he wants, and I have no interest in trying to crack that nut. But I guess on the bright side I won't have to speak to him much." While she wouldn't press Frollo on the matter, it was worth trying to get even a tad more intel from his staff. After all, was it not better to know one's enemy? It wasn't as though the idea of trying to understand him hadn't crossed her mind, especially now that she was in his domain.

"Any idea why he wants me to stay off the third floor?" Esmeralda asked, trying to sound uninterested but secretly hoping the girl might offer some more information. Anything that might grant her some more insight on the man.

"It's where his office and personal chambers are," answered Lucile. "The third floor has kept every Minister of Justice's chamber for decades."

"Fair enough. So, is it safe to assume the rest of those rooms are as empty as the last?"

"Years of housework would say yes. Miss, I have to ask: if Minister Frollo has given you a week to show you can stay out of trouble, what do you intend to do with that time? I doubt he'll be pleased to see you working alongside the rest of us."

"He can't possibly lose his temper over that," Esmeralda coolly rebutted, pushing the rag over the armrests of a barely used chair. "He just said to stay off the third floor. Well…that and not to disturb anyone's work. You'd tell me if I was, right?"

Thankfully the quip earned a chuckle from the young lady. "Of course. But, um, I can't say for certain that the rest of the staff will be as forgiving—the master runs a tight ship."

"I understand; I'd be a little wary if some stranger just walked into my home too. Well…in a way he sort of did." Esmeralda figured that this might create some kind of rapport to put her on the help's good side, especially if she was going to be here for a while.

Shaking a sheet covering a small table, Lucile offhandedly remarked. "And it's not often that the Minister keeps company. Once in a blue moon he'll host some great lord or representative of the King, but even then, it's only a courtesy."

"And I'm guessing that he's never had a woman here?" Esmeralda jested with a smirk, knowing full well the answer.

"Umm…" Lucile fell silent, strands of chestnut hair falling over her eyes as they avoided the gypsy's gaze.

Esmeralda noted her reluctance to answer, stopping and raising a brow at her. "Wait…what—…has he?" She pried, now curious at the other's lack of response. "You're joking, right?"

"It-it's simply an old rumor," Lucile sputtered out, now more focused on her work. "An ugly falsehood from some twenty years ago—I doubt it's even true!"

Interesting, Esmeralda mulled over, the side of her lip quirking at the idea of some vilifying secret regarding the austere judge. "Well, if it's just a silly rumor, what's the harm in telling me?" Esmeralda added a sweetness to her tone in hopes that it would coax the young lady to speak. "Some old story from a couple decades ago—how terrible could it be?"

"I-I couldn't possibly do that. If I so much as breathe a word of such slander, the Minister will certainly have my head, and probably the rest of my family."

Dammit, that's true, Esmeralda thought sullenly. Crossing her arms and hanging her head in contemplation, Esmeralda conceded that Lucile was correct: to endanger a few innocents just for a slip of gossip that might not even be true? She knew that it was too tall of a request to push any further.

"All I can say is this," Lucile added, stopping to face the gypsy girl. "The Palace has a long history—and there are things that should not be said—or seen." Her bright eyes darted back and forth, as if indicating the very walls were listening to their conversation.

Esmeralda followed the girl out into the corridors, the latter remarking that she would need to scrub the last of the windows here. The cryptic words turned in her head, but Esmeralda wondered whether this could be some ruse set up by the Minister himself. Possibly one to trick her into failing her own challenge. She decided to brush it off as paranoia, despite still being intrigued, instead choosing to focus on helping Lucile in the remaining housework. Esmeralda figured that there could hardly be any truth in such an outlandish rumor, especially concerning a man so rigid. What are you thinking? Frollo ever having a woman here? She mentally reconsidered, wanting to laugh at the very idea. Of course it's not true!

Lucile turned her attention to the windows and observed the orange sky that was darkening quickly. "It'll be supper soon," she pointed out, finishing her scrubbing. "You'll need to return to your chambers soon, miss."

"The man prefers for me to eat alone, what's the harm in staying out a little longer?" Esmeralda tested, scrubbing more circles.

"Well, the master takes note to make sure everything is in place, including you. And besides, we should have your supper ready shortly."

"Alright then." The gypsy picked up her bucket and scrubbing brush. "I guess wandering the Palace after dark isn't a great idea, anyway."

They were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps, Esmeralda assuming it might be another servant making their rounds. A deep rumbling voice suddenly resounded, "What do you think you're doing?"

Lucile stood at attention and gave a little bow. Esmeralda stepped back a pace as the looming Minister of Justice strode towards them, a guard trailing behind him. Eyes set on the servant girl, who now averted her eyes shamefully, Frollo dangerously growled out, "You are excused," before turning his attention to Esmeralda and signaling the armor-clad man to stand by.

Esmeralda quickly glanced aside to see Lucile mouthing, I'm sorry, as the latter raised and slumped her shoulders as she exited. The gypsy knew that truly it wasn't Lucile's fault, as any servant would not test their luck against their master. She simply put her shoulders back and faced the Minister, standing as immovable as possible.

Frollo began to circle the gypsy, eyeing her up and down suspiciously like a cat ready to pounce its prey. "I did not bring you into my home to be some scullery maid," Frollo swiped as he leered at her, suppressing the urge to grip her in his vice-like hands.

"You said stay out of trouble and away from anywhere that was off-limits, and that's what I've been doing," she swiped, jaw set as she threw his own rule back in his face.

"Recall that I also ordered you not to disrupt anyone's work."

Esmeralda guardedly crossed her arms over herself, not liking his calculative eyes wandering over her. "Is it "disrupting" if I was offering Lucile a helping hand?"

"It is if you are planting any seeds of dissent in her head."

Esmeralda scoffed, turning from the judge and ignoring the guard's eyes bouncing back between them uncomfortably. "Believe it or not, I wasn't. Just some friendly chit-chat. Nothing to get too bent out of shape over."

Frollo's teeth clenched at her insolence in front of the nearby soldier. "If you even think about turning my staff against me, I swear that you'll never set foot outside again. Perhaps this little arrangement was a mistake. And I might have been short-sighted to put any kind of faith in you." The accusing finger he pointed at her accented his rage.

"What, you're going to throw me back in my room when I haven't even broken any rules?" She tested, despite knowing the danger. "It's been a single day! What was I supposed to do since I've already looked through this place, up and down?"

The Minister froze at her keen observation, feeling a slight heat of embarrassment at her words. Frollo decided he would not allow himself to be bested by his gypsy prisoner.

"Woman, you are really trying my patience," he warned menacingly, his dark eyes fiery. "And I am not in the mood for any of your games." He shot a glare at the anxious guard, who was twisting an iron pike in his hand, and gave a nod. The guard jogged forward to grab Esmeralda tightly by the arm.

"I believe another day in your chambers might quell any notions of scheming," the judge bit. "And I will be sure to let the staff know not to bother lighting your fireplace—so enjoy freezing tonight. Away with her!" he ordered with a wave of his hand.

"Yes sir." The guard roughly pulled the young woman away, who tried in vain to rip herself out of his hold.

"Your master is a lunatic!" Esmeralda hissed, only receiving an uncaring look from the guard as he led her away.

"Lunatic or not, he's the one paying my wages," the soldier countered, his tone unconcerned. "So if he says you stay in here," he flung open the door to her chamber when they arrived. "Then here you stay!" He gave her a hard shove and slammed the door behind her, followed by the click of the key locking her in. The sound of metal armor clanking together faded as Esmeralda heard him disappearing down the hall.

Regaining her balance, Esmeralda spun and bitterly banged a hand on the wooden door, making sure that her hatred was clear as day. An enraged groan was wrenched from her throat, clutching at her dark curls. Was she really being punished despite following the guidelines Frollo set out for her?

Hands on her hips, Esmeralda paced agitatedly. The nerve of that insufferable man—backing out of their deal and forcing her back into her room! He just couldn't stand that she was running around his home and he wasn't there to keep watch like some guard dog. She knew that he had to maintain the upper hand, even at the expense of his now meaningless word.

No pleasing that man, she thought with dread, slumping under one of the windows as she tried to collect herself. One moment she thought she had him outwitted, the next he was trying to worm his way out of their agreement by turning it on her. A "man of his word", sure he is, she spitefully noted. Again, the man continued to puzzle her: willing to indulge her unless his own rules proved inconvenient.

Now what? She gloomily asked herself, resting her head back against the stone wall behind her. If Frollo was going to back out of their deal, was she back to being cooped up here until he decided what he wanted from her? In his paranoia, she figured he might also just bar Lucile from speaking to her again. Now all she was left with again was a big, suffocating chamber with no means of escape. And it wasn't as though that witch stone she found could offer any real protection from harm, despite its fabled power and superstition.

Suddenly, a new idea suddenly dawned on her: could it be possible that Frollo might have sent some of his staff to comb through her room? Her room, she sneered. But that witch stone! She might have only had the clothes on her back, but she still didn't want Frollo to know that she was hiding something of his.

She turned her attention to the chest of drawers where she had hidden that gypsy amulet. She breathed a sigh of relief when her hand wrapped around the leather pouch and felt the trinket still rolling around inside.

Esmeralda turned the pouch in her hand, studying it in the fading orange light that barely lit the chamber. She sighed and lamented that she could not press Lucile on any knowledge regarding this amulet. Even though, it would serve her well to find out more about the Minister—can't be a sitting duck, after all.

Still agitated, Esmeralda then realized, Maybe I should find somewhere else to hide this. Her eyes bounced around the room, standing and now looking for some place of promise. The room, however, was getting darker by the minute and quelling her chances of finding a hiding place soon.

The chest? No, there's nothing inside to hide it under. Can't put it under the pillows or sheets—the staff will shake them out, besides, it's too obvious. Under the bed? They might sweep or dust under it. That armoire over there? Yes, you could throw the trinket on top, but getting it back…are you really going to try and climb it and risk it toppling over and crushing you?

Esmeralda's eyes then set on the fireplace at the other end of the room. Maybe? After all, they wouldn't be lighting it anytime soon, as per Frollo's orders. Clutching the worn pouch tighter, she then stepped towards the dark hearth. She crouched and squinted as she studied the inside of this black and sooty space. She supposed she could just push the little pouch into a corner, and it might do until she could find a better hiding spot, maybe tomorrow when it was light.

She set the small leather pouch aside and lifted the heavy iron grate out, then slapped around the cold hearth in hopes of feeling for something—maybe some kind of hidden compartment. After all, the Court of Miracles was home to endless secrets built into the walls and behind stones. Was it so far-fetched that the Palace could be much different? Maybe it was improbable, but she was ready to try anything if it meant even a small, secret retaliation against the Minister, especially if by some dumb luck she found something he hadn't.

Maybe here, Esmeralda thought as she reached her hand up into the top of the mouth of the fireplace. Her eyes widened suddenly as her hands wrapped around what she felt like a cold, iron handle. She let go and craned her head around, barely making out the outline of said handle hidden in darkness. Just as quickly, something else jumped to mind…something Frollo had said earlier: Nobody has uncovered all of the Palace's secrets. And what are the odds that he would stick her in a room whose secrets he might have already discovered? Or not discovered yet?

Curiosity piqued, Esmeralda nodded to herself and mused, Worth a shot. Reaching her hand up and grasping it, she pushed the handle forward and forcefully, but it did not budge. For a moment she wanted to laugh at the idea that it would be of any use. But then again…why else would a nonfunctioning iron handle be hidden in a fireplace?

Why not? She asked herself, deciding there wasn't much to lose anyway. She stretched her hand and gave the handle a pull towards herself, catching herself by surprise as it cranked to the side. Esmeralda held her breath and she froze at the loud clunk before her.

No, she wryly doubted. It couldn't be possible…could it? Still…she reached out a hand and pushed on the back of the fireplace. She quickly snatched her hand back as she felt the wall push forward a bit, stone scraping and echoing as it swung forward. You're kidding, she thought with a dry chuckle and noting a chilly draft now breezing over her face. Esmeralda instinctively checked over her shoulder to make doubly sure that nobody was behind her—all alone.

X

*A/N: Thanks for reading and R/R!