This Burning Desire by Joslinne Morgan (the gingerbread man read aloud TXT) 📖

on command."

"You may think yourself witty, but I can assure you that I am far from amused." Frollo cast him a darkly reprimanding look. "Every time I received a letter from one of your schoolmasters, which was almost every day – I chided you over it, but eventually all was forgiven. I have done my best to raise you, to make sure that you are provided for, in a way that would have made our parents proud."

Jehan fidgeted. He did not like where this was going.

"Yet everything I gave you, you squandered. Whether it was on gambling, on drinking, or on lustful sins, I do not know and I do not wish to know. You are the unrepentant prodigal son who upon returning to his father's house receives judgment, as opposed to a fatted calf."

Jehan outright squirmed in his seat. He really did not like what he was going. Trying his best to shrug off his brother's dire tone, he managed a smile that was more along the lines of bitter than anything. "Really, Claude? Judgment? What manner of judgment is it that wish you to bestow upon me?"

"Do not take this lightly!" Frollo was angry in a way that Jehan had never seen. It cowed the younger man completely, and he shrank as far as he could into his chair, waiting on his brother to continue.

"You are a disgrace to this family," Frollo said, fighting to regain his composure. "A disgrace to God, and a disgrace to me. I will have no more of it in my household. From this point on, Jehan, I have disowned you."

"No!" Jehan stood up so quickly that he nearly fell into his brother's lap. "Claude, please! Don't do this!"

"I already have," Frollo said with steely resolve.

Jehan shook his head, slowly, as if he couldn't quite believe it. "Why?" he moaned. He sank to his knees, grabbing his brother's robe desperately. "Claude, listen… I beg you! I have no money at all, I haven't a job, and no idea of how to get one. I can't support myself, I don't know how!"

"If you had paid attention to your lessons, you might have some idea yet."

"Please," he wanted to weep, but wouldn't give his brother the satisfaction of seeing tears. "Within a week I will be groveling for bread in the gutter, within a month I shall be dead! Have pity on me, brother, I throw myself upon your mercy!"

"Of which I have none for you, any longer." Frollo grasped his brother's wrists and roughly shoved him away in disgust. "Now get out of my sight, you repulse me."

Damn it all! Jehan began to cry. "Claude … brother! Please!"

"OUT!" There was finality in the words. Any more stalling, and Jehan was likely to have his head taken off. Still weeping, he stood and made his way to the door, stumbling, bumping into things, knocking books from their shelves and pulling up carpets before he threw himself against the door and leaned against it so heavily that when it opened he fell to the ground.

"I hope you die alone!" it was his last possible retort as he picked himself up and ran down the hall.

Discarding the words as nothing more than his idiot brother's childishness, Frollo rubbed his face with his hand. A minor setback, after a rather satisfying day. And, he thought with a twisted smile. It is not over yet.

Chapter Nineteen: When Equal Evils Cancel

Esmeralda had been brought to the Palace of Justice only twice in her life. Once, when her mother had been arrested and promptly executed, twice, when she herself had been arrested not too long ago. Needless to say that when the guard had arrived at the cathedral and explained to the archdeacon that she was to be brought to Frollo at once, she was less than thrilled and more than a little frightened.

She berated herself for being at all surprised. During the short carriage ride there, she reflected that she knew this would happen, sooner or later. Perhaps she had angered Frollo one too many times, perhaps she had been a touch … unwise… when it came to her judgment concerning the matter. But Esmeralda wasn't one to think things through; she lived for the thrill of the moment. Thus, this style of living was applied to everything, including important decisions.

The Palace of Justice loomed like a great black shadow against an angry dark sky. She could smell the impending downpour in the air and wondered why it always rained just when things seemed to getting worse.

Frollo was waiting for her in what was a passably comfortable room, of course only the barest of essentials were supplied. Secretly, she wondered what it was that most religious men had against comfort.

"You wanted to see me?" she tried to keep her voice from cracking and hoped he could not see how tightly her hands were clenching her arms.

"I did," he was in a good mood, she could tell. That scared her more than anything.

"I'm not in shackles yet," she said by way of idle conversation, glancing around the room as if she expected guards to appear out of the dusty corners.

"Nor shall you be," he bade her sit, and then stood in front of her by the tiny archer's slit of a window, his hands folded behind his back. "I have a question for you. One simple question, so don't lie to me, I will know if you are."

She swallowed, but nodded.

"What is your relationship with this self-proclaimed gypsy 'king' Clopin Troillefou?"

At the mention of the name, her insides went very cold. He was simply gazing at her, waiting, and for a split second she had no doubt that he could indeed see into her soul and tell if she was lying.

"I knew him, of course," she stammered, not knowing how to explain. "But he was our king…"

"So that was the extent of your relationship?" he lifted an eyebrow.

"No," she sighed, and shook her head. "When I was seven, he found me, and took me in as his own. That right after…" she faltered, unsure as to exactly why she was sharing with him her personal history. "Right after my mother died."

"So, in essence, he has been your only parent for quite some time."

"Like a father to me, for nearly thirteen years." She sighed, knowing that it was because of that iron bond that she and Clopin had forged that he had sought to have her assassinated in the first place.

"I see," he released his hands and began to toy with the cross around his neck. "In that case, I have some news that I think you will find rather discouraging."

"And what is that?" Esmeralda asked quietly, fearing the worst.

"Clopin Troillefou was arrested earlier today for attempting and partially succeeding to kidnap and blackmail me."

Esmeralda didn't realize for the first few moments that her mouth was hanging open. She gazed at Frollo with a mixture of realization and horror.

"You will execute him?" she inquired, her throat suddenly dry.

"It is my duty, the punishment for one – much less both – offense is death by torture."

"No, please!" panic seized her by the throat, and she felt as if she couldn't breathe. "You can't!" as degrading as it would be to grovel before the judge, she would do it. For Clopin… she would do it.

"And here, I didn't think you would care." His voice held no emotion whatsoever. "After all, he showed you no such loyalty after your display on the pyre."

"I deserved no such loyalty," Esmeralda insisted. "But Clopin deserves it and more…" the panic in her chest was rising by the second. She wanted him to show at least something on his face, a trace of emotion, anything. "My lord, Your Honor…" she didn't know which was more appropriate, she just ran a hand through her hair and moved on. "Please, I beg you. Spare him..." she licked her lips. "And I'll do whatever you want."

There they were! The words Frollo had longed so desperately to hear! Now, how he longed to fold his arms around her, to claim those lips as his own, that body as his own…

Whatever I want, the temptation was so great. He could claim her, she would be his …

"Marry me, and I'll set him free."

"What?" her eyes grew round as coins.

"Marry me," he repeated, reaching out, and taking her hand. "Think on it, it's not so terrible a fate, the wife of the Minister of Justice."

She fought the instinct to shrink back from his touch and instead looked him in the eyes. Terrified at what lurked behind them.

"If I marry you," she said slowly, as if to be sure she had heard correctly. "You'll release Clopin?"

"I will,"

"And cease hunting my people?"

"I make no promises."

It was the best she was going to get from him, and she could tell, too. Steeling herself for what was probably going to be the greatest mistake of her life, she squeezed his hand and pulled it close to her chest, hanging her head and refusing to look up to him, lest he see the traitorous tears. "Very well," she whispered. "I will marry you."

Chapter Twenty:

I Give You… Judgment

Clopin spent the remainder of the night and half the next day curled up in a miserable ball in the corner of the cell. He hadn't said much in the past twelve hours, and really, neither had Jolie. Both were sitting in their own haze, while the body of Jean-Francis already began to process of decomposition after rigor mortis had come and gone. As much as Clopin hated to admit it, he was going to have to summon the guards to take the body away sooner or later, because he couldn't tolerate the smell for very long. No matter how close they had been in life.

"Well?" she asked, breaking the ice after a good four hours of silence. "Do you think we ought to summon the guard?"

"Doesn't sound like we'll need to," Clopin replied grimly, rising to his feet and stretching out the ache in his muscles. "The guard is headed this way."

Nodding, Jolie stood as well, casting one last tearful look at her dead love who lay decomposing on the floor. Soon, he would be nothing but minerals in the dirt, and she'd have to get on with her life. If they were indeed scheduled to live past the next twenty-four hours.

The guard came to the door, moments later, a ring of iron keys in his hand. "All right," he snorted, dragging the door open. "You," he pointed at Clopin. "Can go. By order of the Minister of Justice, in God's great and divine mercy, you have been spared."

"Wonderful," Clopin rolled his eyes. "And Jolie?"

"Her?" the guard jerked a thumb in Jolie's direction. Clopin nodded a confirmation. "She'll have to stay here until further orders are given. The Minister hasn't said anything about her to me."

Clopin turned to Jolie, surprised to see her face one of perfect serenity. "Will you be ok?" he asked, noticing that the guard had yet to realize that the third body on the floor was no longer breathing.

"I'll be fine," She slid her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. She murmured, "If I don't make