Chapter 4: Ravenna's Suspicions

That evening, Lysandra and Saren sat on the edge of a fountain in the manor's rear garden, safely hidden from view by a large topiary. The sky had darkened to deep blue, the first stars appearing above the estate's high walls.

"He's moving us to the east wing," Lysandra whispered. "Closer to the family rooms but still out of Ravenna's direct path. And our duties are being reassigned, personal service instead of general labor."

Saren's eyes widened. "Personal service to whom?"

"Theron didn't specify, but I suspect he wants me attending him." Lysandra dipped her fingers in the cool water. "The danger is Ravenna. She suspects something."

"Of course she does," Saren replied. "Her husband suddenly notices a servant after years of treating us like furniture? I'd be suspicious too."

Lysandra sighed. "I need to be careful. Velmira said the power works differently on each man. With Theron, it's made him... protective, attentive. But who knows how others might react?"

"You should test it," Saren suggested. "Not with anyone important, but perhaps with one of the guards? Just to understand the range of your influence."

Before Lysandra could respond, a shadow fell across them. They looked up to find Maeve standing there, arms crossed.

"What are you two plotting?" the housekeeper demanded. "Secret meetings in the garden after dusk? This isn't a pleasure house."

Lysandra stood, meeting Maeve's suspicious glare. "We were just taking a moment to rest. The day has been long."

"It's about to get longer," Maeve snapped. "Lady Ravenna wishes to see you, Lysandra. Alone."

Saren grabbed Lysandra's hand. "She can't. We have evening duties in the…"

"Those have been reassigned." Maeve's thin smile held no warmth. "By special order of Master Theron, I understand. How convenient for you."

Lysandra squeezed Saren's hand reassuringly. "It's alright. Where is Lady Ravenna waiting?"

"Her private sitting room." Maeve gestured toward the main house. "I wouldn't keep her waiting."

As Lysandra followed Maeve, Saren called after her, "Remember what we discussed about the... inventory. Don't let her intimidate you."

The walk to Ravenna's sitting room felt interminable. When they arrived, Maeve rapped sharply on the ornate door, then opened it without waiting for a response.

"The servant girl, my lady," she announced, practically pushing Lysandra forward.

Ravenna sat by the fireplace, a ledger open on her lap. The room was elegantly appointed but not ostentatious, reflecting its occupant's calculated restraint. Without looking up, she waved Maeve away.

"Leave us."

When the door closed, Ravenna finally raised her eyes. "Sit," she commanded, indicating a straight-backed chair across from her.

Lysandra perched on the edge of the seat, keeping her posture submissive but her mind alert.

"My husband has been behaving strangely," Ravenna began, setting aside her ledger. "Canceling meetings, altering household arrangements, showing unusual interest in servants' welfare." Her gray eyes narrowed. "Particularly yours."

"I wouldn't know about Master Theron's business affairs, my lady," Lysandra replied carefully.

"Don't play naive. It doesn't suit you." Ravenna leaned forward. "Last night, my husband visited the servants' quarters for the first time in our marriage. Today, he's reassigning you to personal service and improving your accommodations. The question is: why?"

Lysandra maintained her composure, though her heart raced. "Perhaps he simply felt the household could run more efficiently with some changes."

"Perhaps," Ravenna conceded, though her tone suggested otherwise. "Or perhaps something happened the night before last, when he summoned you to his chambers."

Lysandra's Shuddered. How much did Ravenna know?

"Nothing unusual occurred, my lady. I served him as requested and was dismissed."

Ravenna's laugh was brittle. "We both know what 'service' my husband occasionally demands, girl. I've never concerned myself with his... appetites, as long as they remained discreet." She rose from her chair, moving to stand over Lysandra. "But this is different. He's behaving like a man bewitched."

The word hung in the air between them, dangerous and accusatory.

"I assure you, my lady…"

"Don't," Ravenna cut her off sharply. "I wasn't born yesterday. I know there are still those who practice the old ways, who whisper prayers to forgotten goddesses. My own nurse was one such woman."

Lysandra felt the blood drain from her face. This was unexpected, Ravenna having knowledge of Velmira.

"I don't understand…"

"Let me be perfectly clear," Ravenna continued, her voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "Whatever influence you think you have over my husband, it is temporary. Men's desires change like the wind. But I am his wife, and this is my household." She leaned closer. "Cross me, and you'll discover just how precarious your position really is."

Something in Ravenna's eyes, a flicker of recognition, perhaps even fear, made Lysandra wonder if there was more to the woman's suspicions than simple jealousy. Had Velmira's warning about "the woman who once served me" referred to Ravenna?

"I have no intention of crossing you, my lady," Lysandra said, choosing her words with care. "I'm grateful for my position here and wish only to serve the household well."

Ravenna studied her for a long moment, then straightened. "We'll see. For now, you may take up your new duties and quarters. But understand this, I will be watching you very closely. One misstep, one hint of impropriety, and you'll find yourself not just dismissed, but ruined." She returned to her seat. "You may go."

Lysandra rose on unsteady legs, cursied, and made her way to the door. As she reached for the handle, Ravenna spoke again.

"One more thing, Lysandra. There's an old proverb: 'Gifts from the gods always carry a price.' Remember that, when you think yourself fortunate."