FROST AND FLAME

The palace grounds were soaked in an eerie atmosphere as the thunderstorm howled outside. Thunder cracked through the night sky, its roar echoing in the halls. The Dowager Duchess, despite her unshakable demeanor, had always harbored a childhood fear of thunderstorms, a deep-rooted terror that no amount of age or wisdom could erase.

In her room, she sat trembling, clutching her shawl tightly around her shoulders as lightning illuminated the darkened space. The power outage only amplified her fears, the shadows in the corners of the room seeming to shift and grow with each flash of light. She couldn't bear it any longer. She needed comfort, and the only person she trusted enough was Paris.

Wobbling out of her chambers, the Dowager moved cautiously through the darkened halls, her cane tapping softly against the marble floors. The rain pelted against the windows, and the cold seeped into her bones as she made her way to Paris's room.

Paris was blissfully unaware of the storm raging outside her chamber doors. Inside, a storm of passion unfolded between her and Mateo. They had grown reckless, panting and groaning. Mateo knows how to satisfy both a woman and a man. He had given her a great time licking off all the juices in her coochie. And now, the penetration was just another ecstasy Paris felt, draped in a sheer nighty, lounged in Mateo's arms, her hair disheveled, their breathing heavy.

"mi amor," Mateo teased, tracing his fingers along her collarbone.

"yes mi hombre sexy ," Paris purred, pulling him closer.

The door, left slightly ajar in their careless frenzy, creaked open as a gust of wind swept through the hallway. Neither noticed.

The Dowager Duchess, leaning heavily on her cane, approached Paris's room. She hesitated, the flickering light from a candle inside casting strange shadows on the walls. Another clap of thunder rattled her resolve, and she stepped inside unannounced.

What she saw froze her in place.

Paris and Mateo, tangled together, both half-dressed, their faces pale with shock as they realized they'd been caught.

"Mother..." Paris stammered, pulling the sheets up to cover herself.

The Dowager clutched her chest, her face contorted in disbelief and anger. Her cane slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor. She gasped for air, her body trembling.

"Mother, please!" Paris cried, rushing to her side.

But it was too late. The Dowager collapsed to the floor, her breathing shallow and strained.

Sabi was making her way down the hallway, carrying fresh linens for the guest quarters, when she heard the muffled sound of groaning. She stopped in her tracks, her heart racing. Something was wrong. She followed the sound, her steps quickening as she neared Paris's chamber.

When she reached the door, she froze at the sight before her. The Dowager lay crumpled on the floor, Paris hovering over her in panic, and Mateo standing in the shadows, hurriedly buttoning his shirt.

It hit her like a tidal wave. The other night, it was Mateo with the feminine cloak on. Paris and Mateo were having an affair!

Sabi's scream pierced the air, startling everyone.

"Help! Somebody help!" she yelled, her voice raw with urgency.

Her cries echoed down the corridor, drawing the attention of other staff and guards. Within moments, several people arrived, holding torches that cast harsh light on the scandalous scene. Mateo's disheveled state and Paris's flimsy attire left no room for misinterpretation.

Levi appeared moments later, his expression darkening as he took in the scene. Without a word, he knelt beside his grandmother, cradling her frail body in his arms.

"Move!" he barked, his voice commanding as he carried the unconscious Dowager out of the room, the other staff trailing behind him.

Sabi remained frozen in place, her heart pounding as Paris and Mateo turned their attention to her.

The door slammed shut, leaving Sabi alone with Paris and Mateo.

Paris advanced toward her, her eyes blazing with fury. "You saw nothing," she hissed, her voice low and venomous.

Mateo stepped in beside her, his towering presence adding to the threat. "You're just so unlucky, aren't you?" he growled.

Sabi's voice wavered, but she held her ground. "I won't say anything, but you're playing a dangerous game."

Paris sneered, her lips curling in contempt. "You think you're so clever, don't you? Just remember, little maid, you're nothing in this palace. You're disposable."

She went to her dressing table, scribbled an amount and held it out to her. "Take this. Leave the palace. Tonight."

Sabi stared at the check, her stomach churning. The figure was substantial, but the thought of being bought off sickened her. She pushed the check away, her voice steady. "My voice is not for sale."

Paris's laugh was cold and sharp. "Then you'll regret it. Mark my words."

***

In Sabi's heart, she knew one thing for certain: Paris and Mateo were dangerous. And if she wasn't careful, she could be their victim.