Lucilla had been a great many things in her life: a daughter, a sister, a wife, an empress, a mother. Eventually, she had become a killer and abomination as well. But shrewdness was something she had always come by naturally, instilled in her early on as she watched the political dealings of her father and husband as Emperors of Rome, and hewn to an accomplished point in her nearly twenty centuries of life. While it was true that she had not managed to survive so long without being a fierce - savage, even, when called for - competitor, of equal importance had been the wisdom to know who was an asset and who was an enemy.
Flynn Rosewood was, at least for the time being, an asset. She was fairly certain that, one day, their paths would cross as adversaries - and when it did, she would relish tearing the faerie’s throat out. But that day was certainly not today.
As Diana von Kilmburg, she had worked hard to ingratiate herself to the community of Havenwood, not just as a bringer of economic opportunity, but one of culture and enjoyment as well. Her New Year’s Eve balls had simply been the start; she had become a sponsor of other town traditions as well, all leading up to the purpose of her meeting with Flynn - a food and wine festival.
It had seemed preposterous that such an event didn’t already exist, and it was a void she had every intention of filling. But she knew that, while financially and logistically she could mount the entire event on her own, politically she needed an ally in the town’s favored son. So she had written to him, proposing the idea, and had been somewhat intrigued when he’d offered to meet her in person, at her home. A show of good faith, she supposed, one that signaled she was no more his enemy than he was hers.
That morning, she had instructed that anything made of iron be struck from the first floor of the mansion, and that anything of lemon origin be similarly disposed of. It was her way of showing appreciation that he was willing to set foot on her property, and of silently assuring him he would come to no harm in her home. Not that she needed any of that to hurt him, if she truly wanted to.
Dressed in a simple oxblood pencil skirt and white sleeveless blouse, she waited patiently in the foyer for her guest to arrive. Both she and Flynn maintained a household of servants, but she had pinned him as the type to appreciate personal gestures that belayed one’s personal wealth or stature. While it may have been more prudent to let someone else open the door, on the off chance the faerie prince had decided to eliminate her at the outset, she was willing to gamble that he hadn’t become so cold blooded overnight. And besides, it was important to her to demonstrate to some of her newer employees that anything she asked of them, she was willing to do herself.
She timed it perfectly, so that as Flynn arrived at the front door she had swung it open, greeting him with a wide smile across her crimson lips, the corners of her eyes crinkling ever so slightly in delight.
“Good morning, Mister Rosewood,” she welcomed him, waving him into the foyer, her head butler standing smartly at the ready to take his coat. “I’m so glad you could make it.”