The Courtesy of Kings | ☑ Queenkiller, Kingmaker #2

[Short Story] Ginseng Fever

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.