Isla
From her seat at the small writing table, Isla watched her aunt saunter into the room. Watching the woman come, Isla fought the urge to frown at her. She had always been a respectful girl. Her mother insisted on her being respectful to everyone and cultivating a good habit of showing a stoic face to the world. She insisted those things were important in a world where a single negative interaction could soil an entire business. Isla was taught by her mother how to be a businesswoman first and an emotional creature second. She leaned on that training as Vara entered and crossed the room.
The woman seated herself in the vacant chair and folded her hands on top of the table.
“You don’t trust me yet. That’s alright.”
Isla forced her face not to betray her annoyance or her fear. “I know it’s alright. But to be honest, Aunt Vara, I do not see a good prospect for trust growing up between us. You have not given me any reason to believe you.”
“Oh? I haven’t lied to you, child.”
Isla let out a harsh sigh. “I know, and I appreciate your honesty, but it is your truths that make me think we will find no common ground. I can’t accept into my heart what you accept as truth. You can’t make me believe in slavery just because you and your family and your queen are steeped in it.”
Instead of reacting coldly, as Isla half-expected her to do, Vara nodded seriously. “It is only your first day in e’Silea, child. It would hardly be reasonable for me to expect you to adjust to life here that quickly.”
Isla’s eyes stung, and she answered, “Ruby seems to be adjusting very quickly.”
Vara leaned back in her seat, raising her hands toward the ceiling in a helpless gesture. “Ruby has not seen all the harshness of the world, as you have. Ruby is still very young, and has you to guide her through the difficult times.” Isla was surprised at how perceptive Vara was proving to be, and could not keep her surprise from her features. Vara smiled gently at her. “I know a troubled girl when I see one, Isla. I knew the moment I laid eyes on you that you would have a harder time adjusting to a new place and new ideas than your sister. She has not had to fight for her convictions or status.” Vara leaned forward, as if reaching for Isla’s hands, though she did not touch her. “And you love your sister and want to care for her. There is no shame in those desires. You have seen the bitter sides of life, and that aged you beyond your years. The shame in that does not belong to you.” Isla did not miss the insinuation that there was shame in her premature adulthood, and that it belonged to someone, if not to her. “I would just like to share the burden with you, Isla.”
Isla felt tears stinging her eyes. Dropping her gaze to her hands folded on the table, she let out a slow, pained breath. Mother had given her the responsibility to care for Ruby. She turned over her business to her. She got sick and expected her—Isla!—to run the business, keep the house, and manage their expenses. And Isla did it. She was perfectly capable of continuing to do it. Vara was trying to steal away the responsibilities her mother gave her.
“I do not need you to carry my burdens for me.”
This time when Vara reached for her hand, she did not stop herself touching Isla. Isla felt a flutter of fear at that gentle caress. She wished she felt repulsed, so she could pull away and be justified in thwarting her aunt’s attempt at friendship. But she was not an unkind girl, and the gesture was warming. It had been so long since someone tried to comfort her.
“I know you do not need me to help you, Isla. I know you are very capable. But I want to carry your burdens, so they will not be so heavy for you.”
Isla felt troubled at the older woman’s insistence. She pulled her hands out of Vara’s and placed them in her lap. When she looked up to meet the woman’s gaze, she knew her eyes were hard, though the tears sliding down her face now might have softened her to look like a little girl when she most wanted to appear like a capable young woman.
“If you want me to grow to trust you, you are going to have to tell me the truth. I will `need to hear and understand the truth, even if I cannot accept it into my own heart.”
Vara nodded once, as if they were making a business agreement.
“I need you to tell me about Mother. If she was so dear to you, and you treated her so well, why did she run away?”
This question obviously caused Vara some pain and discomfort, but she nodded again and sat back against her chair, folding her hands once more on the tabletop.
“Very well,” she answered with another nod. “Ava was born to my mother when she was well-beyond healthy birthing years. My mother’s pregnancy was very difficult, and so was the birth. Ava was breech. Do you know that term?”
Isla nodded. “Upside down in the womb?”
Vara nodded, but she said, “She was buttocks-first, and unfortunately, the labor and delivery was taxing on both mother and child. Ava was born unwell and was not expected to live through the night. However, she was stronger than anyone ever thought. She pulled through. My mother, though, was never well after that. She held Ava, named her, but never could nurse her, so the task fell to me. She never fully recovered. She died when Ava was only a few months old.
“Now, you may not understand e’Silean law, so let me explain that when a woman dies, everything she owns goes to her named next of kin. That is to say, a relative of hers who has a name and trade of her own and can take on the responsibility of assets.”
Isla scowled slightly, trying to understand. “There isn’t a will?”
Vara shook her head. “No. I mean, a woman could certainly tell her family and friends what she wants done with her possessions and assets after she dies, but that is a rather morbid discussion. In e’Silea, we focus on life rather than death. Anyone who has ever been under a woman’s name can claim her assets after she dies. It’s a big responsibility, though, so is not taken lightly. When I claimed my mother’s assets, I did it for Ava, and for the slaves. Slaves can be grossly mistreated in a claim, and I wanted to be sure that did not happen.”
Isla felt a pang of disgust at the idea that a man could be claimed as a woman’s asset, but she said nothing. Vara’s eyes sparkled, though, and Isla knew she’d seen.
“Everything that belonged to my mother became mine after the claim went through. That meant Ava became mine. I moved her to this temple and raised her here.”
Gently but insistently, Isla asked, “What happened to the slaves?”
Vara studied Isla silently for a moment, and at last answered, “My mother’s House slave—that is to say, her exclusive and most precious slave—moved into my temple with me. He had been with her since his youth and was sick with grief over the loss of her. I kept him here until he died a few years later. The other slaves stayed with me only until I found good temples for them. They are thriving still to this day.”
Isla was not fooled. “You sold them.”
Not batting an eye, Vara nodded. “Yes. To reputable mistresses in strong trades, where I knew they would be well-cared-for and respected.”
Isla sighed and shook her head. “Are they expensive, human property?”
A smile stole across Vara’s face, and Isla felt a stab of annoyance at not being taken seriously. Though when Vara spoke, there did not seem to be amusement in her tone.
“Some go for more than others. My mothers’ slaves sold well because they were well-trained and well-cared-for. If I had been capable of selling Calais, he would have sold for much more. For some reason, a woman’s House Slave sells at higher rates than others. As I said, however, his grief was too strong for him to have done well in another temple. It was his grief which ultimately killed him; he could not get himself motivated to live after she died.”
It pained Isla to hear it. “Why?”
Vara arched a brow at the scandalized tone, and said evenly, “Because he loved her and did not want to live without her.”
This revelation silenced Isla. She knew all about love. Her mother told her fanciful stories about her love for Isla’s father. Their love was always a shining beacon of magic in Isla’s mind. And Isla’s mother said she did many impossible things in the name of love.
“Is that enough of economics?” Vara asked coolly. “Shall I go on with the story of Ava’s treachery?”
Isla scowled at the term, but she spoke politely. “Yes, thank you.”
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Vara sat back in her chair, her eyes taking on a distant quality. “Ava was a ferocious little thing. Fierce. With a horrid temper that never ceased getting her into trouble. As her guardian, I was responsible for educating and raising her. She was never easy, but she was beautiful, and smart, and a determined little e’Silean girl. She started Classes too young—she and Chloris both, because I needed them out of my hair for a little while every day.” With a heavy sigh, Vara shook her head at herself. “They were a handful, the two of them. Ava was the brains, and Chloris the muscle. When Ava wanted something done, she spouted a plan and Chloris put it into action. And, as I said before, it landed them both in no end of trouble.”
Vara cleared her throat and sat forward, catching Isla’s eye. “I need you to understand, I loved Ava as if she were my own child. I treated her no differently than I treated Chloris or any of my other children. She could have been from my own womb; I loved her so much.”
The ferocity of her aunt’s tone made Isla swallow a lump of sadness in her throat. Love like that could not be faked. She nodded to reassure Vara that she understood.
“I educated her well. We talked of her future. She had big plans and a bright future. She was a dancer and…” Vara shook her head and looked away, clearing her throat a couple times. When she looked back into Isla’s eyes, the sheen of tears that was there a moment before was replaced by a hard expression. “I bought a slave for the girls. They were growing up, and their needs were changing and expanding. My regular slaves could not do everything. No one could keep up with Ava and Chloris. I hoped giving them a slave would steady them a bit. For a while, I thought it had. They spent less time making mischief. But they also spent less time together. It took me too long to realize I made a grave, foolish error. I underestimated the jealous nature of teen girls. Also, I did not purchase a slave worthy of their attention. Unfortunately, I realized much too late that he was a source of contention. Ava and Chloris had fallen out of each other’s confidence by then, Chloris being pushed to the outside.”
Isla interrupted, “But, why?”
Vara studied her a long, quiet moment. With a little sigh, she admitted, “Ava was very beautiful, Isla. And the slave was very young and not well-trained. He was beautiful, too, and when he had two girls swooning over him, he lost his mind to that temptation. Without meaning to, I put him in a position of power. I pitted my two girls against each other. They fought for his notice and his attention in a way I never expected.” She sighed and shook her head at her memories. “I was a fool.”
Isla shook her head. “So… what? They stopped being friends because they both liked the same boy?”
Vara made a sound in her throat that may have been impatience or disgust. “No. They stopped being friends because he had sex with Chloris, told her he loved her, and then turned all his attention on Ava.”
Isla’s face flamed, and her hands flew up to her mouth in shock. She knew about sex, of course. Her mother taught her to guard her virginity like a treasure. To speak of it so casually was unnatural for her. It made her uncomfortable. Yet, Vara pressed on.
“I was a fool not to realize they were having sex. Not to even consider that they were of an age where hormones ride like a wild tide. I purchased him to give my other slaves a break from the demanding service of two growing young women. And I did not think about the repercussions of such a gift.
“He was young and charming, working first on Chloris because she was more susceptible. She was given less attention and praise in her life, because she was never as beautiful or as talented as Ava. She always, sort of, walked in Ava’s shadow. So, she came on strong to that smarmy little slave, wanting his attention all for herself. But Ava could never be bested in anything. As soon as she started to show that slave some attention and affection, he abandoned Chloris completely. He broke her heart.”
Isla’s hands remained on her cheeks, still warm under her fingers. But she shook her head. She was not sure she wanted to know the rest. Vara angled a sharp look at her though, and plowed on unforgivingly.
“Ava was not a cruel girl. She started her affection with him as a playful game. I truly believe she was unaware of Chloris’ affection for the slave, or she would not have been so forward. She was naturally affectionate and flattering, so she was able to steal his attention without even trying. When she started a sexual relationship with him, and let it slip to Chloris, all hell broke loose in this temple! Chloris came unglued. She had never been particularly violent, but she attacked Ava and the slave. Ava fought back. When Chloris told her that she had slept with him, too, it became an all-out war. My slaves had to peel them off each other. Fortunately, my House Slave had the good sense to send for me. When I came home, I got to the bottom of it. What I thought was the bottom of it. I knew I could never have peace with that slave in my temple. So, I took him that very evening and sold him to businesswoman I knew.”
Isla’s eyes were wide now, and she nodded. She thought—putting aside the disgusting idea that the man could be sold away—Vara made a wise decision.
“Ava was beside herself, completely devastated that I took him away from her. Chloris was heart-broken and inconsolable. I was upset, as well. Too upset, by far, to be rational. I was angry with them both for having sex without my permission—which I assure you, is still a very real trigger for me, child, so I recommend waiting to copulate until you clear it with me.”
Isla flushed again, and murmured, “I would never—”
Vara gave a sharp nod. “Unfortunately, my own anger got in the way of me seeing the entire picture. I mistakenly thought he was a horny little bastard who wanted sex badly enough to trick Chloris and then Ava into giving him what he wanted, whether or not any of them were ready for that step in their life.” Vara shook her head again, giving a heavy sigh. “I was dead wrong about that. His intention had always been to latch onto a young mistress and deflower her in the hope of creating an unbreakable emotional connection. Because, the truth was, he was not well-trained and was not loyal to e’Silea. He wanted to seduce a young woman into helping him escape. And I—unwisely—gave him two opportunities. What I discovered much later, to my deepest chagrin, was that he tried his tricks on Chloris first, and failed to sway her from her deep-seated beliefs.” Vara paused, eyes clouding. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, and colder. “He was much more successful with Ava.”
For a long moment, Isla stared at Vara in shock, but could not bring herself to ask the question that was burning in her mind.
Vara’s narrative continued in the cold tone, “Ava wept and railed at me for getting rid of him. She told me she loved him. I was too cross to listen, to understand completely. I told her I would buy another slave when she was older and better able to control her emotions.” Vara shook her head again. “I was such a fool. Chloris received more of my attention, because I thought she was hurting on a deeper level. Also, she was much more accepting of my affections. Ava was too angry with me to be affectionate. She was defiant, and violent, and unusually acerbic toward me. And, instead of countering with affection and concern, I bit back with violence and force. That had never nor ever could work on Ava.”
Isla nodded along. She knew well that her mother had always been stubborn. Isla could imagine the exact set of her jaw and the twist of her mouth when she was at her most intractable. After Father died, mother wore that expression a lot as she went through her business life.
Vara’s tone took on a softer, more distant quality, “One night when I was away on business, Ava sneaked out of the temple, down the trellis, and out into the streets. She met that slave—who had likewise sneaked out of his new temple—and took passage on an old fishing vessel. I still to this day don’t know how they arranged it. I don’t know how she even found him or made a plan.” She shook her head slowly in bewildered sadness. “A foolish traitor helped them sneak onto an e’Silean ship bound for the Mainland. They hid among the fish packaged for trade.” Vara swallowed, looking down at the tabletop with hard eyes glazed over. “For two weeks, they lived among the fish, packaged like goods. And when they reached the Atpost, they were transferred to another ship in the packaging. Not an e’Silean ship this time. I believe they allowed themselves to be discovered, and Ava was able to pay for passage to Foreland. I don’t know where they made port, because I was never able to get anymore information on her after that.”
Isla could not hold in her fears any longer. She burst out with, “That was my father? That slave who used Chloris and my mother?”
Vara’s gaze lifted to meet Isla’s, and she gave a firm nod. “Well, you look like him, child, so I guess yes.”
Isla squeezed her eyes shut. True, she remembered little of her father, but she had the hardest time accepting he was not the stalwart and true man her mother always made him out to be.
“But … but … Mother always said he was the son of a foreign lord, who disowned him for marrying beneath his station.”
Vara scoffed. “I assure you, little girl: that slave married well above his station.”
Isla gave a weighted sigh. “Mother ran away because you…stole her lover from her?”
Vara lifted one shoulder in a resigned shrug. “I don’t know, Isla. I know that Ava gave up a brilliant future and a loving family when she jumped into the fish barrels with that boy. And I know she was pregnant when she left here, because she missed her cycles for the second time the week before she disappeared. I can do the math.” She tapped Isla’s hand with one finger. “That was you.”
Isla gave a shaky nod, attempting to assimilate this into her reality.
“I went after them, but I lost their trail after Atpost. Though I found the ship they rode to Mainland, I was never able to catch wind of them. I asked around a lot. I put her image out as an endangered runaway. Several times, I caught a hint of something that might have been her. I got my hopes up, traveled to Mainland, to Foreland, only to be disappointed three separate times.” She let out a pained sigh. “Eventually, for my own heart, I had to stop pursuing her. I ultimately failed to find her and bring her home.”
Vara’s eyes were watery now, and she brushed away a tear. She did not look at Isla when she whispered, “I never stopped hoping.”
For several moments, silence descended on them. Isla’s mind spun with the story. She could picture her mother as a young woman, climbing onto a shipping boat with a young lover. She could picture the two of them running away together into the night. But Isla was not entirely satisfied with the story. Not because it seemed untrue. Rather, it was uncomfortable because it seemed entirely too possible. It explained a lot: her mother’s attempt to hide herself in the streets. Her unwillingness to discuss her past. Even her pained expressions when she spoke about falling in love with their father. All of it made sense in relation to Vara’s story.
Isla let out a slow breath. “She never breathed a word.”
Vara arched a brow, firm gaze returning to her. Her eyes were still glassy but her tone was strong when she said, “Ava was always very stubborn.”
Isla rose to her feet, murmuring, “Thank you. I’m sure this was not easy.” It was a dismissal, though a gentle one. She wanted to be alone now. She wanted to think it all through and decide how she felt about it. And she needed to do that on her own.
Vara stood up and approached Isla slowly. Isla’s shoulders tightened, and she drew in on herself a little. But all Vara did was kiss her on the head.
“Sleep well, little girl,” she said gently. “If you have more questions later, I’ll be here.”
“Thank you,” Isla said again, though all questions had fled from her mind. Her entire attention was captured by the tender kiss on her head. Exactly like her mother used to kiss her. It started a burn in her chest, a tightness in her throat, and a cascade of tears down her cheeks.