“Such as?”
I hear a soft thud against the door, Elisaf’s head leaning back, probably. “Such as matters relating to the laws that govern both mortals and immortals, and changes the mortals are desperate for.”
Mortals. “You mean humans?”
“Yes, Your Hi—” He catches himself. “Yes. And the few casters we have, of course. But mainly the humans.”
“And what changes are they asking for?”
“The most provocative would be the opportunity to live and work freely, as the immortals do. To not serve.”
I frown as his words take meaning. “Humans don’t live freely right now?” It’s obvious there is a social order within these walls, as I suppose is to be expected when you’re dealing with royalty. But is he saying it’s outside of these walls too?
“Cirilea is more progressive, but many lords across Islor would prefer to keep mortals in servitude.”
A wave of surprise washes over me with that word. “Are you saying humans in Islor are slaves?”
“That is not a word Islorians favor, but yes, in general, humans serve the immortals.”
“All humans?”
“You will find few households without at least one mortal in servitude. It is a requirement,” he says softly. Perhaps with a hint of shame? “There are degrees and ways they are in service. If you pay attention, you will see the marker in their ears that bears the house name of their keeper.”
“That’s what those are? Tags for ownership?” It’s like tagging cattle. I grimace. Under different circumstances, I would be “in servitude” here. Sofie called humans the lowest of creation. She said far greater beings walked among us. Is that what humans are to these elven? Lesser than, that they can dominate?
“In exchange for their service and loyalty, the mortals are guaranteed accommodations and protection for themselves and their offspring.”
“Protection from what?”
“Those who would abuse them if given the opportunity. Anyone who wears an ear cuff is considered property, and anyone who harms another’s property will be punished accordingly.”
A bitter tang fills my mouth. “And is that a big problem in Islor? The immortals abusing the humans if they don’t have owners?”
“We call them keepers, and we have strict laws against the abuse of the mortals, but some regions enforce those laws more readily than others. In Cirilea, it is considered a great honor to hold a position within the castle and the court.”
Is that true or is that what the slavers tell themselves? Do those gardeners who toil away in the hot sun from dawn until dusk feel blessed? Does Corrin feel fortunate to cater to the Ybarisan prisoner?
Korsakov owned me, and though my freedoms were many and my lifestyle was a far cry better than what I faced while on the streets, I felt trapped. Even with his name in my pocket to use as a shield if needed, I didn’t feel safe.
A thought strikes me. “Does Ybaris enslave humans too?”
“They do, though it is not the same as in Islor. Mainly with the nobility.”
The nobility, which would include Princess Romeria. I pluck the last of the grapes off the vine, hoping Corrin might deliver more tomorrow. “Did I bring any of them with me, here?”
“I believe there were three mortal lady maids with you. One died in the attack and the other two were punished accordingly.”
“And they were probably just doing what they were ordered to do,” I mutter.
“That is a safe assumption.”
I have so many more questions about the humans of Islor, but I’m desperate to glean more about my predecessor. “What else do you remember about evil Romeria?”
“The humans adored you. They thought you beautiful.”
I roll my eyes, even as the stroke to my vanity causes warmth to swell in my chest.
“There were whispers among the court, though—”
“Let me guess, the court are all immortals?”
“Yes. There were doubts about your acumen for politics. Some thought you simpleminded, better equipped for donning pretty dresses and warming Zander’s bed than ruling.”
My eyebrows lift. “You mean they thought I was an idiot?” It’s not even me they were whispering insults about, and yet I burn with indignation.
“They questioned whether King Barris may have been quick to make the arrangement so that his son Tyree could rule Ybaris in your stead. They say he is his mother’s likeness in both looks and disposition.”
“Princess Romeria has a brother?” Growing up, I always wanted a sibling.
“Yes. An older one. But as is custom in Ybaris, female offspring are considered first in line to the throne.”
“And do you think that’s true? Getting rid of me so my brother could take over?”
“I do not deem to have an opinion on Ybarisan matters. But King Barris first reached out to King Eachann when you were merely a babe, so your political shrewdness would not have been in question at that time. Besides, I believe you proved that you were well versed in scheming, and not at all the fool, even if your plans were foiled by a change in schedule.”
Right. “How exactly did I poison them?”
“I am not permitted to give you details of your failed coup.”
“Because I’m going to try it again? From here?” I shake my head. “Why didn’t King Barris and Queen Neilina come to Islor, anyway? Don’t parents attend their children’s weddings?”
“They did not feel it was wise to leave their kingdom unattended.” I note the slight hesitation in Elisaf’s voice. “But Prince Tyree traveled with you.”
“And where is he now?”
“His body was not found among the dead, so it is assumed he fled the city as soon as the alarms sounded.”
“And left his sister here to die.” It is interesting, though. He must have been involved in the plan. “So, basically you’re telling me the peasants thought Princess Romeria ‘pretty,’ and the court thought her a fool.” Not exactly a glowing reputation I inherited, even without the murder worked in.
“I believe the exact term was ‘witless fool.’” I hear the smile in his voice. “For your part, you fed into that notion well. But some saw through the act, believing you were putting on a show to please the crown and the future king, but that you had ulterior motives.”
“Hope they dropped some coin on those odds. They could have made serious bank,” I mutter dryly.
“I’ve never met a Ybarisan before, outside of battle. Do they say such odd things as you do?”
I wince. I need to watch my words more carefully. “The queen didn’t like me, though, did she?”
“The queen did not trust you. Princess Annika was not an enthusiast either.”
“She still isn’t.” And yet she went to all that trouble to help me the night of the attack. There’s only one explanation—she must love her brother.
“You got along well enough with Atticus. He and a contingent of the king’s army escorted you and your entourage on the journey from the rift. Though, he could make pleasantries with his worst enemies.”
“I’d say that friendship is over.” I set the stone bowl down on the floor beside me. “And what are people saying about me now?”