sub-genres: slice-of-life
content warnings: colorism, sexism

   

Say what you will of the Malbrati estate, but at least it was comfortable. It wasn't as big as her mother had hoped, didn't have as many servants as her father expected, but it was an estate, and that was a whole lot more than what any of their other children could even dream of setting their feet into.

Phrae sniffed and flicked her wrist. The letter held between her fingers sizzled into flames. Its ashes barely settled on the decked floor before a maid came squirrelling out to clean it.

That's right. Piripon milked cows and Pranou picked longan from morning until dusk, her skin was basically burnt to the colour of their seed. And they had the audacity to still try and lecture her on how she should be spending her days?

And don't even get her started on Patpuri. Their eldest sister arranged and sold flowers and that was enough to get their parents talking about her as if the sun shone out of her unwomanly parts, but when it came to Phrae, suddenly moving into an estate wasn't good enough?

'You missed a spot.' She lifted her feet onto the settee and watched as the maid swept between her seat and the table across her. 'Once you're done, maybe you can rub my calves.'

She was so, so tired. At only six moon-cycles, little Nanao was already babbling and giggling all day long, her favourite word being pok pok. It did not take long for everyone to learn it meant chicken, and that if she was not quickly taken out to the fields to chase them, she would fill the entire estate with her crying. The problem was that Nanao could hardly crawl, let alone go off chasing chickens, so of course it fell upon Phrae to carry the little daemon around and go chasing poultry through their farms.

Patpuri better never hear about any of this. She had cajoled and bribed and even stooped so low as to beg her husband to hire another nursemaid, one with strong calves and stronger hands; but funds were low, he had said. They were counting on a good yield come harvest season, otherwise never mind hiring new hands—they would have to let some go.

Nanao fussed in her little swing-crib by the window, but judging by her breathing, she was still fast asleep. It was a cool, cloudy day deep into the seeding season. Even with windows running down the whole length of the east-facing wall and all their curtains drawn, the room was still grey and drab. Decoration was another of those things they could not prioritise just yet.

'Soon, Beauty,' he would say. 'Have patience for another year. This harvest season, our fields will be ripe, and then I will fill your shelves with all the books you wish; your wardrobe with all the dresses you desire.'

It better be, considering the amount of money we spent on that dhraokin. Phrae pushed herself off the settee with a groan.

'Syuri?' her maid called. 'Did you not want a foot rub?'

Phrae sniffed. Two years since she had wedded the raj and still the title felt odd on her. Not that she disliked it. It just took some getting used to, was all. 'Maybe later. I'm hungry for something fresh and light and sweet. Maybe a salad with sesame dressing.'

'Right away, syuri.' She backed away into the hallway as Phrae turned to the windows. The narrow strip of a porch outside was damp with rain, but still down in the fields, the people worked.

My people. She reminded herself. That's right. She had gotten far in life. So what if her parents were not proud of her accomplishments? So what if her younger sisters admired their eldest more? The bridal compensation Adhan had sent to her family was worth more than all of theirs combined.

Or would be, if anyone would ever wed a darkling like Pranou.

The dhraokin, too, was a darkling.

Phrae watched her work amongst the farmers. She had not even bothered with a sun hat, and she was ankle-deep in the rice fields, her blue frock was all wet and filthy at the bottom. Who wears bright blue with skin like that?

It would have been an expensive dress, too, with that shade. Phrae had gone to enough dressmakers and clothiers to know. But considering the amount she billed for three moon-cycles of work? Phrae scoffed. Of course the dhraokin could afford it.

'It is an investment, Phrae,' Adhan had dared speak to her like she did not spend a year ingesting every resource on economics and trade at the palace academy. 'That means we spend a lot of money now, but it will return in multitudes later.'

Never mind that it had been her idea that set it off. 'Why does the realm wait seasons for a harvest, when we have people with the theurgy to make them grow in a day?' The question had been asked facetiously, really, but as always her husband thought her too good for such attitudes.

Of course she knew it wasn't that simple. Dhraokin who could raise entire fields from seed to soya in a day were rare and outrageously expensive, retained and reserved only for the kingdom itself. And the effects such theurgy would have on its soil—what was once fertile and lush could easily become barren when forced to produce harvest too quickly and too often. It was like they became dependent on theurgy and forgot how to produce nutrients on its own.

But Adhan had took her matter-of-statement and made it work. He had looked for—and found—a second-rank dhraokin, and paid her not to accelerate the growth of their crops, but to nourish their roots, strengthen their seeds. So for a whole season they set Leilani up in one of their best guest chambers, and every day she worked the fields from dawn to dusk.

They were one of the larger rice producers this side of the province. Their fields stretched out around the estate, currently drowned in just under two feet of water.

But truly was the Malbrati Estate famed for its wild ginseng. If their rice fields took up the north-western front of the house, then their ginseng spread some five hundred acres south-east.

Raj of the Roots, her sisters called Adhan. Behind his back, of course, but only too happily in front of hers. Phrae sniffed. They never laughed at the gifts his root-money bought them, though. Maybe instead of getting that pretty little pearl band Piripon had been eyeing, or paying for a full banquet next family celebration, next time she would send them a cut up root in a gift box instead.

And not even from one of their mature plants, either.

The people outside stopped suddenly in their work. Almost in unison they looked west, where a gravel road cut through the fields and ran all the way up to the winding perron of the estate. Even Leilani looked up and threw her hand out in the air, waving as she beamed from ear to ear.

How unbecoming of a lady. Still, Phrae would have to keep an eye out on that one. She did not miss the skip in the dhraokin's step as she approached the road to greet Adhan.

The raj came riding in on his sandalwood pony, slowing down until he came to a complete stop before Leilani. Phrae wrung the drape of her syaree, watching as they exchanged a few words. A few words became a few paragraphs, and before she knew it, Adhan had hopped off his horse and Leilani was walking him back towards the estate.

What self-respecting woman walks alone with a married man? By the way she was laughing and slapping Adhan's shoulder, the other farmhands would think she was the syuri of Malbrati!

Phrae turned and headed quickly for the door, only to collide into someone entering from the hallway.

Sliced tomatoes, lettuce blades, corn kernels went flying into the air ... tray and plates clattered onto the hardwood.

'Syuri!' Her maid gasped and threw herself onto the ground, right beside the scattered bits of salad and dressing. 'Forgive me!'

'You absolute dunce! Look where you're going!' Phrae screamed, plucking kernels out of her braid.

'I deserve a whipping, syuri! I'll humbly take my punishment! I wanted to let you know that the raj has returned, so I came as fast as I—'

'Right, and now he is returning home to this!' Phrae waved the hems of her syaree, sesame dressing smeared over its mint green lace. 'Clean this at once, and get me a new cloth! Oh—now look what you've done!'

Nanao had started wailing, awoken no doubt by the maid's clattering as she collected all the cutlery off the floor. Phrae hurried back to the crib and consoled her daughter. A messy room, a wife with smeared clothes, and a howling baby on top of it all ... even Leilani would look like polished gold compared to all this! And it was not like Adhan was averse to darklings. Some people had ... broader ... tastes, after all; and once upon a time he had even fallen for Tran.

And she's as dark as they come, this side of the Ters Altum.

Phrae knew better than anyone else how easy it was to steal Adhan's attention. Or maybe it was just men in general. But taking up multiple wives was really only acceptable for the Rama ... for people like her, her husband would simply ...

Ah! Snap out of it! Phrae bounced poor Nanao gently until her wails turned into a quiet whimpering. You're jumping far paces ahead.

Adhan would not leave her for a lesser woman. She would not need to come crawling back to her family like an abandoned little street dog. She would make sure of it—just like she made sure Adhan had fallen for her in the first place. Just like she made sure she crawled out of that poverty hole to begin with.

So what if she had Lilja's help back then? Lilja had accounted for a miniscule of her success. She had only set up the scene for their "chance" encounter ... the rest had been purely her. Charming Adhan, keeping him happy, gently steering his accomplishments from behind ... that was all her.

She had been handed a rough hand in life, but it was people like her who were destined to claw into a better deck. She was not a pushover like Tran, nor too proud to demure herself like Lilja ... and look where they were, now. Tran was stuck at the Water Palace, and Lilja was—

Phrae looked down at Nanao's plump, amber face. 'Don't worry, my little daemon. I'll make sure you never grow up to be so foolish.'

Stupid girl. What had she gotten herself involved with? Lilja had been too proud for her own good. She should have learnt how to play with the hand she had been given, not throw out the entire game and demand for a new deck. And what a waste it was. With theurgy like hers, Phrae would have become ... so much more. She would not have hidden it, she would have made herself indispensable to the realm. She would not have married a minor lord, she would have wedded a samraj or even a Provincial Prince.

Maharaj Kiet is to become a Provincial Prince ...

The announcement had reached their little landholding some moon-cycles ago. He would be taking over Pior Lam. It was only a pity Djatiswara was already governed by one of the Rama's other sons, otherwise Phrae would have found reason to join her husband on his next annual tax report.

She giggled at the thought of it; at the thought of the maharaj's face, his smell, his smile when he spoke to her at the Water Palace. It had been so long ago, but the memory still played fresh in her mind. She could still hear his deep, velvet-smooth voice; could still feel the way his eyes had bore straight into hers ...

But of course none of her sisters believed that the second heir himself had invited her to visit his estate!

Footsteps and faint voices drifted in from the hallway.

Phrae startled and made a quick assessment of the room. At least her maid had finished cleaning the floor and already left for a fresh cloth. Phrae lowered the front folds of her syaree and began to nurse her daughter just as her husband entered with the dhraokin at his shadow.

Both flushed upon sight of her, and Phrae had to restrain from rolling her eyes. As if neither of them had ever seen a breast before. She made a show of gasping and turned quickly away. 'My excuses, Mistress Leilani! Poor Nanao here was fussing—I didn't realise my husband would be bringing in a guest!'

'No, syuri, I should not have imposed.' She was well-spoken and calm for a working woman. 'I will return another time ... the field report can wait.'

She bowed out, closing the door behind her, and Phrae turned her smile upon her husband. 'I'm so sorry, my raj ... should I have gone to the nursery? But it has been so long since you left us for Kathedra, and I so wanted to greet you home.'

Adhan flushed, his eyes wandering out the wide windows. 'No, not at all—how blessed I am to have such an attentive wife.'

He was no maharaj, but even Phrae had to admit Adhan was sufficiently handsome with his diamond-cut face and perfectly chiselled nose. Especially when he was flustered. She made her way to the settee and sat, Nanao still feeding peacefully. 'You must be tired, husband. Sit with me. Would you like a drink as well?'

He flushed even more, now his entire face drowned in red.

Phrae sighed, gesturing at the candled pot and tray upon the table before her. 'I meant tea, Adhan.'

'What? Yes, I know! Of course!' Adhan fumbled with the door until it shuddered shut behind him. 'Ah—yes, I could use a drink. It's just—I must have left my head in Kathedra.'

'I can see that.' Phrae poured expertly, one hand still patting Nanao on her lap. 'I hope your deal at least went through without difficulty.'

'The palace agreed to our new terms, so long as we can meet the quota come season of harvest, and they want nothing younger than ten-year roots. We have at least thirty acres reaching their twelfth year this season, but ... if all goes well, I hope not to need harvest more than a third of them. That should account for well over eight hundred pounds ...'

'Best not count our chickens before they hatch.'

Nanao's eyes pricked open at the word, her mouth pried away from Phrae's breast to ask, 'Pok pok?'

'Pok pok is sleeping, little daemon, and you should be, too.' Phrae grabbed a small fur chicken doll from the corner of the settee and tucked it into her daughter's arms, hoping it would keep her distracted. 'But eight hundred pounds of dry ginseng would get us ...'

A lot.

A twelve-year-old harvest, at that? It would keep them up for years!

'Best not count our you-know-whats before they hatch.' Adhan repeated back at her with a smile.

He leaned in for a kiss. First her, then Nanao.

His day-old stubble pricked her cheek. It felt good, Phrae had to admit. She could have done far, far worse. The moment they learnt she was to be conscripted, her sisters kept warning her how she would end up wedded to a man older even than their own father.

'Just close your eyes and think of someone else while he's on top of you,' had been Patpuri's sage advice. Luckily Phrae never truly had reason to take it—though, truth be told, sometimes when things were dull, she liked to think of that deep, velvet-smooth voice, anyway ...

'... Phrae?'

She blinked. The estate. He was asking how things were while he was gone. 'Just more of the same, my raj. My days are tedious without you, and yet you were so cruel as to extend your stay in Kathedra. Did you even miss us?'

'Ah, don't be like that, Beauty.' He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, but Phrae knew he liked it when she pouted. 'Of course I missed you. I would have begged you to join me, if Nanao weren't still so young.'

'Don't blame the babe.'

'It is only the truth. I would not have extended, either, but ... you must understand ... it was a day not to be missed. One so crucial and historic, it attracted all noble- and commonborn in the capital alike. The opportunity was too great to deny. I made business with three Houses and a travelling merchant in a single day, my syuri.'

'What are you talking about?'

'Has the news not yet reached Malbrati? The Maharaj Kiet has returned home two, almost three weeks ago.'

Phrae shrugged. 'We heard as much from the iron trader. He came by last week.' She had cursed Adhan for letting her miss the maharaj's homecoming, but what was there to be done of it? 'He said the maharaj returned triumphant in his search.'

'If he passed by last week, then you would not have heard what came next. Not four days ago Rajini Dhvani's trial was held. I had to stay long enough to sit it through.'

'You watched the trial?' Phrae fought hard to keep the envy from her voice.

Adhan was too elated to notice. 'I had to! The maharaj himself stood as prosecutor, and our maharam was appointed as right judiciary bench!'

Both the Maharaji Kiet and Khaisan together in the same room for hours? No wonder all the nobleborns had come out. Between the two of them, they would have flushed out every last bachelorette from even the deepest sewers. Meanwhile there she was, chasing chickens with a babe strapped to her back.

'It was the most gripping thing I ever witnessed! Better even than that playhouse tragedy we watched last culting season.'

Congratulations. 'You compare a rajini's fate to a stage show?'

'Ah, no—that's not at all what I—though now that you put it that way ... yes, that was callous of me. But surely you cannot rebuke me too strongly, after all the rajini has done to your friends?'

'My friends?'

'I suppose you wouldn't have heard of it just yet. But your fellow dhayang, my beauty. The disappearances over the years—she was responsible for them all along! She's been practicing dark, forbidden runes and extracted their theurgy to keep for her own.'

'I didn't know that was possible.'

'Neither did I, but the Maharaj Kiet figured it out and, what's more, managed to prove it! He showed the court these ... terrible objects ... jewelry and trinkets the rajini used to store her acquired theurgy. Ah! How thankful I am that your theurgy is as common as weeds in a garden, otherwise ...'

Phrae watched him pointedly, but he truly was that oblivious. 'She only took the rarer ones, did she?' There was that epprakin that went missing during her stay ... and Phrae had never even heard of epprakindry before then.

Had the rajini learnt of Lilja's true theurgy? Could that have had anything to do with her disappearance? 'What did these trinkets do? What powers had she stolen?'

Adhan shrugged, took a sip of his tea. 'There was a mirror that stored astyrmaugury, a spyglass that could channel optapeucy ... her runesmith confessed to other objects as well, though we did not see them. A khalamaji's gloves, a wooden mask of faceshifting—'

'Nothing of the mind-weaving class?'

'He did mention a sleep-weaver's flute, but other than that ...'

No, then. Phrae sighed in the relief, to her own surprise. 'I never did like the looks of that rajini.'

'Well now the realm no longer needs to worry about her. On top of everything, the maharaj was able to prove to the court that she was responsible for his own mother's death!'

Phrae scoffed. 'What, she wanted to keep Rajini Amarin's theurgy for her own as well?' Even my greed has its limits.

'No. Someone had told her the late Raj Kiaan and his family were murdered under Rajini Amarin's orders, so I suppose she was out for revenge.'

'Did she?'

'What?'

'Rajini Amarin. Did she have them murdered?'

Adhan looked feverishly around the room, out the windows, but no one stood remotely close to their porch outside. 'That's ... that's neither here nor there. It was not Rajini Dhvani's place to murder her sister-consort in turn.'

'I guess.' Phrae shrugged. 'How did he manage to make her confess? The punishment for regicide is ... well, in her case, also regicide.'

'He didn't. Rajini Dhvani was tried without participation. He had gathered witnesses from all over the realm—her younger brother, Rajini Chei's soldiers, even a dhayang who had been present at the time of his mother's mur—'

'A dhayang?' What was a dhayang doing in the consortial estates? If any of the academy girls had started working for any of the rajinis, Phrae would have been first to hear of it.

'Yes, Rajini Chei's messenger. Ah—wait, I'm getting it all mixed up.'

Her messenger?

But Adhan pushed on. 'She wasn't her messenger at the time. She was just seeing the maharaj.'

'Seeing the maharaj?' A dhayang?

'That's what he said ... Kiet. Maharaj Kiet. She was, you know, his—his lover.'

'HIS LOVER?'

Adhan chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. 'It's ... it's no secret, Beauty ... our maharaji, they're ... well, they get around.'

'What did she look like?'

'His lover?'

Phrae only knew one dhayang who had both met Kiet and been offered a position by Rajini Chei. That lying bitch.

'I don't know ... skinny? Long hair?' Adhan shrugged. 'I could be describing half the academy dhayang, Beauty. She was nothing on you. Nothing special, to be awfully frank. I mean—that is to say—she wasn't bad to look at by far, but for a maharaj ... I would've expected a goddess with a perfectly round, delicate face ... skin as spotless as a morning dewdrop, a lovely little pout and ocean-kissed hair ...'

Phrae knew he was describing her, but the sentiment was lost in the ire swelling up inside of her. 'You've got to be joking.'

Had she taken up the maharaj's offer and visited his estate? By herself, too, that conniving little—

'Phrae?' Adhan squeezed her wrist, and Phrae looked up to his wide-eyed gaze. 'Did—did I say something wrong?'

Did the maharaj even know her true theurgy? Or had she used it to manipulate her way into his chambers? Yes, that must be it. And she had the gall to act all high-and-mighty in her face! No wonder she had only been too eager to let her steal Tran's suitor instead.

She rose so quickly her breast popped out of Nanao's little mouth. 'I hope you still have a roll of gaharu left. I have a letter to write.'

★ END ★