Farmers crown, p.1
Farmer's Crown, page 1
Farmer’s Crown
Jubilee Summer Book 2
M.C.A. Hogarth
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
APPENDICES
The Species of the Alliance Universe
Eldritch Houses and Families
Author Sketches
Acknowledgments
Playlists
About the Author
In the end, poverty, putridity and pestilence; work, wealth and worry; health, happiness and hell, all simmer down into village problems.
Martin H. Fischer
* * *
Give me love and work—these two only.
William Morris
1
All feasts were beautiful, because who couldn’t love enormous spreads of food? But Vasiht’h thought this one was particularly special. The dais that had been festooned with garlands of early summer blossoms for the wedding now spilled tables loaded with amazing dishes, and the courses had been separated by some thoughtful hand so that the heartier offerings were on the lawn where their delectable aromas wouldn’t interfere with the daintier fare on the raised platform. He hadn’t anticipated the Eldritch would be interested in the former, but Jeasa had insisted that roasted animals—often whole!—were traditional. The feast at a noble’s wedding, she’d told them, was not intended for the couple. It was a promise to their people that they would provide for them, that the marriage would bring greater prosperity and wealth.
“The bigger,” Jeasa had concluded, “the better. And it lasts three days.”
“Three days!” Marevhe said. “We’ll have to pace ourselves.”
The first day, though, had to be stellar, and it was. Vasiht’h halted alongside a platter of ribs, wondering if the Eldritch used a knife and fork on them or if they lowered themselves to eat with their hands. And then if they shared, because he could have climbed into the ribcage suggested by those arcs.
“Don’t touch!” Sehvi exclaimed, laughing. “You’ll topple them, and then where would we be?”
“With the ribs in the chicken breasts.” Vasiht’h peered. “Those are chicken, right?”
“Quail, actually.” His sister stopped next to him, twisted to look over her back at the dais and the veils of fabric floating from the arch at its back. “What a gorgeous day it is. I’m so glad we’re outside.”
“Is this everything? Because this’ll feed a hundred but I’m not sure about a few thousand.”
Sehvi snorted. “We’re not getting a few thousand people, no matter what the Empress thinks. But no, if we suddenly get those few thousand we’ll be fine. We’ve got Laisrathera’s kitchens on standby, they’re better than ours. For now, anyway.” She put her hands on her hips. “We borrowed all their stasis discs, too.”
“I hope someone marked them so we know which ones go back and which ones stay…!”
His sister cuffed him. “What do you think we are, amateurs?”
Vasiht’h ducked, laughing. “Just checking.”
“If you’d been here for the planning you would have known we figured all this out already!”
“If I’d been here for the planning, Sediryl wouldn’t have had a gift for Jahir for the wedding,” Vasiht’h said. “So it’s good that I wasn’t.”
His sister’s eyes darkened, and her mood with it… but briefly, like a cloud passing over the sun. “Yes, it really was.” She smiled and bumped her side against his. “Anyway. Where are Prince Charming and Princess Determined?”
Vasiht’h choked on a laugh. “Princess Determined!”
“They never give the women interesting names in any of those fairy tales….”
“No, I guess they don’t. They’re upstairs, dressing.” Vasiht’h consulted the mindline, touching it with the tender fingers he’d learned to use when he didn’t want to draw Jahir’s attention. That it also kept him from falling into his partner’s head while the Eldritch was in the middle of intimate activity was a bonus. A very big one. “Slowly.”
“That’s good. I’m going to cross the Pad with Jahir’s mom around noon to go get everyone from the village…” She paused. “Can you believe that I’m their next most trusted figure?”
“Yes?” Vasiht’h said. “You oversaw the conception and delivery of the first baby they’ve seen in… how long?”
“Decades!” Sehvi shook her head. “Decades. I can’t believe it.”
“Neither can they,” Vasiht’h said. “And you wonder why they love you.”
“Some of them love me,” Sehvi said. “Fortunately the ones who don’t, adore Jeasa, so we’re good.” She grinned. “That’ll leave you to drag the happy couple out of their wedding suite.”
“They’re mostly done dressing.” He consulted the mindline, felt it vibrating with laughter. “Mostly.”
Another bump against his side brought him back to the field, and the mouthwatering scent of… roasted quail, apparently. He sniffed appreciatively at the dish: rosemary? Thyme? There was an Eldritch equivalent of the latter that had a lemony high note…
“Stop dissecting the recipe or you’re going to want to eat it, and you’re not allowed. When are you due back at Anseahla for those kits?”
“Maybe two months?” Vasiht’h said. “Their schedule got messed up by the war. I’ll double-check.”
“Just after the investiture…” Sehvi trailed off, lips pursed. She exhaled noisily. “I hope that goes well. I really hope it goes well.”
“It’ll be fine,” Vasiht’h said. “Liolesa sent snipers to sit on the roof for the wedding. Can you imagine what resources she’s going to pour into the crowning to make sure nothing goes wrong?”
“Arranging not to be shot seems a lot easier than all the political stuff that could go sidewise.” He considered her for long enough that she started laughing. “What! Are you shocked your little sister’s worrying about politics? Really? Here? We live here, you know.”
“I know,” Vasiht’h said. “And… I’m glad.”
“Me too.” She flashed him a grin. “It’s fun. Who would have expected?”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She chuckled. “I’m going to go brush my coat and snitch a cookie before I head over the Pad.”
Vasiht’h hugged her. “The feast looks great, you know.”
“It does! You should see what we have planned for day three.”
“Ice cream?” Vasiht’h guessed.
“Are you kidding? We’re going to have ice cream every day.”
Vasiht’h wandered amid the tables after she’d left, just for the pleasure of deconstructing the probable recipes, and to admire the work done on the presentation: there were flowers on all the tables, their colors and shapes chosen for contrast against the dishes they were surrounding. The asparagus was a good example: two kinds had been cleverly arranged on the same silver platter, the white spears pointing in one direction, and the green ones in the other, and white blossoms tucked against the latter and their stems and leaves curled around the back of the plate to offset the former.
Almost all of the victuals had been imported; he’d taken part in enough of the initial planning to have seen the itemized lists and their price tags. It would be years before Sediryl’s farming experiments could supply even a modest number of households with native produce, and there was no guarantee that they’d ever be able to feed the entire world. That wasn’t just an Eldritch problem, though—there were plenty of Alliance worlds that imported their food, preferring to pay for the produce grown on specialized agricultural worlds over the burden of administrating their own farms.
It was strange to look at the familiar foods, knowing that the Eldritch would also find them familiar because of Liolesa’s machinations. Though was it fair to call them machinations when they’d kept the Eldritch from dying? Vasiht’h shaded his eyes, looking toward the top of the Seni mansion. He couldn’t see the people who’d been sent to keep watch on the feast, but he knew they’d been dispatched.
Poor Liolesa. So busy looking after everyone that she wasn’t used to people looking after her. Did she get as many people bothering her to marry as he did? He wondered if she hadn’t for the same reason he wasn’t interested; he was full-up on people to love, and perfectly content with the ones surrounding him. Or maybe in her case, she was full-up on purpose, and didn’t have time for a spouse. He could see that too. It pleased him that she could laugh, and so often did, in that Eldritch way of crinkling eyelids and twitching lips.
The cake—today’s cake—no, today’s spotlighted cake, because there were four others on the central table on the dais—was frosted in white and six tiers high, and its bottommost tier was nearly as long as Vasiht’h. It had been designed to simulate a fairy castle, with arches and bridges of formed sugar, crystals sparkling in the sun, and thank the Goddess for those stasis discs. All white, of course, and smelling strongly of vanilla; he bent to sniff,
Satisfied, he left the sward and jogged into the house, squinting at the transition between summer sunlight and the relative dimness in the hall. It would have been easier to go in through the kitchen, but he knew better. If he stepped into that chaos he’d be roped into helping, and then he wouldn’t get to enjoy the feast. Not that he didn’t like cooking and entertaining, but his partner was only planning to marry once, and Vasiht’h didn’t intend to miss any bit of it.
He climbed the stairs absently, more attentive to the mindline than the carpet under his paws, and timed it just about perfectly. When he raised his hand over the door to knock, Sediryl was already opening it to peep out. She brightened at the sight of him and tugged him inside. “He said you were coming. Is it already time? I feel like I’ve barely blinked between when I woke up and now.”
“I’m sure you have,” Vasiht’h said, chuckling. “But it’s almost noon and your mother-in-law’s about to go fetch the guests. The actual, local guests, because Goddess knows how many non-locals are going to show up.”
“Hopefully enough of them to eat the mountain of food your relatives prepared.” She paused. “My relatives, now. How wonderful.” She beamed. “Am I presentable?”
It was strange to see Sediryl in dresses when she spent almost all of her time in trousers. Vasiht’h had seen her in a gown a handful of times, when she’d been intending to shadow her aunt at Ontine, but she was definitely more comfortable in Alliance-style clothing. Which was a pity, because she wore the Eldritch fashions well. Vasiht’h padded around her, studying the elegant dress, which neatly side-stepped the consanguinity association by eschewing blue and silver for honey-gold edged in white. “It looks fine. Understated, though. I thought you needed to be crusted in diamonds or something?”
“Not for the feast,” she said. “I need to be well-enough dressed to be identified as Jahir’s bride, but overdoing it would put too much of a barrier between myself and the tenants. I didn’t do that at Nuera, I’m not planning on doing it anywhere else.”
“The farmer princess,” Vasiht’h said, thinking of KindlesFlame’s amusement.
“Are they really calling me that?” Sediryl asked, laughing. “Goddess. I guess it’s appropriate. It’s what I am.”
“It is, and what you are is great,” Vasiht’h said. He wrinkled his nose. “I think you need at least a little jewelry, though. You might think of yourself as close to the people, but you’re also the imperial heir. And they need to be proud of that.”
Sediryl sighed.
“You’re proud of it, aren’t you?” Vasiht’h asked.
“Yes,” Sediryl said. “Cautiously so, knowing how easy it would be to misuse the power I’m being groomed to inherit. And with trepidation, knowing how much responsibility is vested alongside the tempting perquisites. But… yes.” At his expression she burst into laughter. “All right, I know that was a lot of ‘buts’. But it’s not as if the position is some pretty brooch I can toss aside when I tire of it!”
“I’d say you’re worrying too much, but maybe you’re not. What do I know about ruling a planet? Multiple planets.” Vasiht’h shook his head. “But still, you need some jewelry. Borrow some of Jahir’s, he never wears his.”
She paused. “That… would be perfect, actually. Would you pin it into my hair?”
He grinned. “I’d love to.”
That was how Jahir found them when he exited the shower: with Sediryl sitting on the floor and Vasiht’h bent over her, tucking a strand of sparkling yellow stones and creamy pearls into her braid. The mindline spread into a glittering joy, like sunrise on the waves of the ocean, and Vasiht’h looked up at his partner and smiled back because how could he not?
Tucking his robe more closely around himself, Jahir said, “Fairer sights I have rarely seen than the ones I have in these past days.”
“Flatterer,” Sediryl said, but Vasiht’h could hear her pleasure. He slid the last stasis pin in and tapped the strand to make sure it was fixed, then backed away so he could check for any crooked or awkward bits.
“Looks good,” he said. “But you need a matching brooch. I assume there’s one.”
“Because there always is?” Sediryl chuckled. “Is there, love?”
Jahir considered them. “There is, but it is designed for a man. My mother may have something, though. You might ask her.”
“I’ll do that, though honestly the last thing I want to do is get up and spend four or five hours at a party. I don’t love parties.”
“You just haven’t been to the right ones,” Vasiht’h said. “You need to stop thinking of Eldritch functions as Eldritch, especially now that there are so many Pelted here. Your wedding feast’s going to be full of them, you know. Between my family and the people coming over the Pad from Laisrathera? We had to invite them, we stole half their kitchen gear.”
Sediryl laughed. “Well, that makes it better, then.”
“We need not make an appearance,” Jahir said. “It would be more in keeping with tradition to stay in our marriage bed.”
“Except we broke with tradition by not having the wedding lead into the feast,” Sediryl said. “So… I’m not sure we’re going to get out of it. We should at least show our faces.”
He caught her hand and kissed it. “Then I will dress.”
The smile Sediryl directed at his partner… Vasiht’h’s heart swelled. Of all the outcomes in the worlds, he’d somehow happened into this one, and if he wasn’t the luckiest person on this planet right now, he felt he was pretty close. After Jahir disappeared into the adjacent room to dress, Vasiht’h said, “Your kids are going to be amazing.”
“I know,” Sediryl said, hugging herself. And then, resigned. “Goddess, but I hope they don’t come out of the womb levitating plates, the way my aunt suggested.”
“Liolesa said that?” Vasiht’h tried to imagine it, chuckled. “She did.”
“She did,” Sediryl agreed. She touched her hair. “I suppose I should see about that brooch. Will you come with me, or stay with Jahir?” She grinned, impish. “He’s eaten already, I promise. You could just… enjoy his company, without having to nag him.”
“I don’t mind nagging him,” Vasiht’h answered. “He could take care of himself on his own, you know. It’s just that when we first met he didn’t have a good sense of how to operate in the Alliance and I got into the habit of… well. Hovering. Now he lets me because…”
“Because he loves you, and it reminds you both of how long you’ve known one another?” Sediryl’s smile gentled. “I know. But I don’t think you give yourself enough credit for being a good influence on him.”
“It’s mutual,” Vasiht’h answered. “Which is how it should be, in relationships.”
Sediryl reached for the door. “I look forward to having my own set of longstanding interactions that have to be explained to other people. That’s… actually something I’ve been wanting since I saw the two of you reunited on the Chatcaavan throneworld.”
Vasiht’h’s ears flicked forward. “Really?”
“That’s when I noticed that Jahir had a special, unique embrace for everyone, and that I wanted to be one of the people he had a special, unique embrace for.” She grinned. “I think we’re well on our way to that, and no, I won’t bother you with details.”
Vasiht’h laughed. “Good, because the vague sense I got through the mindline was all I needed. You all had fun, and that’s enough for me.”
“Would that we were back in that room having more fun—” Sediryl stopped as the door opened without her turning the knob, and Sehvi peeked in. The Eldritch pressed her hand to her breast. “Goddess, arii, you scared me! For a moment I thought my mind had decided it was time for me to open things as well as set them on fire.”
