Ravenna's private chambers were an elegant study in restraint. Where the rest of Theron's mansion boasted of wealth through excess, gilded moldings, imported tapestries, and furniture crafted from exotic woods, Ravenna's space spoke of refined taste and careful selection. The walls were painted a subtle sage green, adorned with only a few well-chosen landscape paintings. A writing desk of polished cherry wood stood before windows that overlooked the garden, while comfortable seating was arranged near a small marble fireplace.
Lysandra had imagined many scenarios for this confrontation, but the setting's calming dignity caught her off guard. She had expected something more intimidating, perhaps darkness and sharp edges that matched Ravenna's reputation. Instead, sunlight streamed through gauzy curtains, illuminating the room with soft afternoon light.
Ravenna herself sat at her desk, setting aside what appeared to be correspondence as Lysandra entered. She wore a gown of deep blue silk, her dark hair arranged in an intricate style that framed her face perfectly. No matter the time of day, Ravenna always appeared as though prepared to receive important visitors. Today was no exception.
"Lysandra," she said, her voice melodious and controlled. "Please, take a seat." She gestured to a chair positioned across from her desk.
Lysandra complied, taking the opportunity to compose herself. She kept her expression neutral, her posture straight but not rigid, the practiced poise of a servant who knew to be attentive without showing fear.
"You wished to see me, my lady?"
Ravenna studied her for a long moment, her gray eyes missing nothing. Then she rose from her desk and moved to pour two glasses of pale golden wine from a crystal decanter. This unexpected gesture, serving refreshment herself rather than summoning a servant, put Lysandra on high alert.
"I've noticed changes in my husband recently," Ravenna said conversationally, as though discussing nothing more significant than the weather. She extended one of the glasses to Lysandra. "Curious changes."
Lysandra hesitated before accepting the wine. Poisoning seemed an unlikely tactic for Ravenna, too crude, too easily traced, but in this household, one could never be too careful.
Ravenna noticed the hesitation and smiled, a small curve of her lips that didn't reach her eyes. She took a deliberate sip from her own glass. "If I wanted to harm you, Lysandra, there are far more efficient methods than poison."
The statement wasn't reassuring, but Lysandra took the glass anyway, though she did not drink. "I'm not sure I understand, my lady."
"Of course you do." Ravenna returned to her seat, arranging her skirts with practiced grace. "You're far too intelligent to play the confused servant, and I'm far too observant to believe it. Let's not waste each other's time with such pretenses."
The direct approach surprised Lysandra, forcing her to rapidly recalculate. She had expected circling conversations, veiled threats, not this straightforward acknowledgment.
"What changes have you observed in Lord Blackwood?" Lysandra asked carefully.
"His obsessive attention to a household servant, for one." Ravenna's tone remained conversational, but her eyes were sharp. "His uncharacteristic distraction during business matters. The way his gaze follows you when you're in the room, and the way he broods when you're not. His sudden willingness to share sensitive information with you." She tilted her head. "Shall I continue?"
Lysandra took a small sip of wine to buy herself a moment. It was excellent, light and fragrant, with notes of honey and apricot. The luxury of it contrasted sharply with the dangerous conversation.
"Many men develop... inappropriate attachments to women in their households," Lysandra said carefully. "It's hardly unusual."
"True. But Theron is not 'many men.' He is calculating, practical, and has always treated his pleasures as he treats his business, efficiently, without sentimentality, and never at the expense of his ambitions." Ravenna set her glass down. "Until now."
The room fell silent except for the ticking of an ornate clock. In that moment, Lysandra made a decision. Direct evasion would only provoke Ravenna further, and denials would be futile. A partial truth might be the safest path.
"I cannot explain Lord Blackwood's behavior, my lady," she said, meeting Ravenna's gaze steadily. "I have done nothing to encourage his attention beyond fulfilling my duties as required."
"And yet you've been moved from the kitchen to a private room, given fine clothes, and positioned as his personal secretary during important business meetings." Ravenna's voice carried no accusation, merely stating facts. "All within the span of a few weeks."
"I cannot refuse what he commands," Lysandra replied, allowing a hint of vulnerability to enter her expression. "Surely you understand that better than most."
It was a calculated risk, this appeal to their shared experience as women navigating the whims of powerful men. For a brief moment, something flickered in Ravenna's eyes, not sympathy exactly, but recognition.
"I understand survival," Ravenna acknowledged. "I also understand opportunity. The question is, what do you intend to do with yours?"
The direct question caught Lysandra by surprise. This wasn't proceeding like an interrogation but almost like... a negotiation.
"What would you have me do, my lady?"
Ravenna rose again, moving to stand by the window. Backlit by afternoon sunlight, her silhouette seemed both elegant and formidable. "That depends entirely on your ambitions, Lysandra."
She turned back to face the room, studying Lysandra with renewed intensity. "Do you aim merely to improve your position in this household? To secure protection and comfort? Or do your ambitions extend further?"
Lysandra considered her options carefully. Pretending to have no ambitions beyond servitude would ring false, Ravenna was too perceptive for such an obvious lie. Yet revealing too much could be equally dangerous.
"I seek security," she answered finally. "Which has always been difficult to find in my position."
"Security," Ravenna repeated, as though testing the word. "A modest goal, considering the influence you seem to have acquired."
"Influence is fragile without protection," Lysandra countered.
A slow smile spread across Ravenna's face, this one reaching her eyes with something like appreciation. "Now that, Lysandra, is the first completely honest thing you've said since entering this room."
She returned to her desk, but instead of sitting, she opened a drawer and removed a small box of polished wood. "Do you know what this is?"
Lysandra shook her head.
"It contains evidence of my husband's various indiscretions over the years, names, dates, locations. Including his treatment of previous servant girls who caught his eye." Ravenna's tone was matter-of-fact. "Most are now gone, dismissed, married off to distant connections, or simply disappeared."