Magia Posthuma ✓

Twenty Six

Hermannstadt, Sânziene 1620

Carmelia huffed as she waded through the meadow of tall grass – holding her posy of wild flowers high over her head to give a little shade and relief from the heat of the midsummer sunshine. She kept her blue eyes to the ground – peering through the bristling fronds as she prowled for the one flower she was missing from her bunch.

"...Have you found any yet?" Sorina shouted from the other side of the meadow.

Carmelia stopped and groaned. "Oh yes, heaps," she shouted back. "I thought I'd just carry on trudging around in the burning sun getting bitten by horseflies for nothing."

Sorina wrinkled her nose as she stared into the sunlight, drawing her lips back over her large front teeth. "...Really?"

Carmelia swatted angrily at the grass around her. "No, Rabbit! Of course I've not found any – have I! Gâscă! Don't you think I would have said if I had?"

Sorina shrugged as she brushed down her white petticoats – she wasn't sure of the answer to that question. "...Oh. Well, I don't know," she sighed as she began wading over – cutting a path through the long grass.

"Look, we might as well just give up; there's nothing left," Carmelia complained as she wiped the sweat from her forehead and aggressively waved away a horsefly. "There was nothing 'round the back of the church, nothing by the river – there was blankets of the stuff there last year! There was nothing by the gates, nothing in the woods near Turnișor – what a useless trudge that was! And now there's nothing here neither! Nothing!"

Sorina put on a brave face. "...It's still a fine pick, Melia. You've enough there to make a beautiful crown," she said as she reached out to touch her friend's bundle of blooms – a firework of dog daisies, purple pin cushions, buttercups, ransoms, cow parsley and scarlet corn poppies spitting from her fist. "...Maybe even two."

Carmelia twisted sharply, pulling it out of reach. She scowled, "This is your fault, Rabbit," she spat. "If you'd called for me on the eighth bell just as we planned, then I wouldn't have slept in, and all the other girls in town wouldn't have beaten us to it – would they?"

Sorina looked down at her own meagre handful of flowers, wilting in the heat. "...I know," she replied quietly. "I'm sorry... I told you, my măma needed help with the–"

"Oh, forget it!" Carmelia snapped. She frowned at her flowers, "You know this is all worthless without a sprig of lady's bedstraw! Without that, the Sânziană won't weave their magic and Radu won't blink twice at me!"

Sorina scuffed her shoes in the dirt. "...But, he's promised to Maria – the cobbler's daughter," she said. "Don't you think it's wrong to try and tempt him away?"

Carmelia arched a blonde eyebrow. "...From her? She's dull as ditch water – I'd be doing him a favour," she scoffed as she set off through the grass towards the track leading back towards town. "Besides, they're not married yet. He's fair game."

Sorina sighed and rolled her eyes. "But why him? You could have any man you want, Melia," she said as she hurried along behind her friend – bounding through the grass. "With or without the lady's bedstraw you're the comeliest girl in Hermannstadt – and you know it."

"I don't want just any man, Rabbit," Carmelia said. "I want one who's going to get me out of these peasant rags and take me as far away from this stinking town as possible."

She'd long decided that she'd rather die than spend another day as the butcher's bastard stepdaughter. She couldn't wait to be done with plucking chickens, scrubbing blood off the floor and rubbing animal fat into her hands just to keep them soft. She couldn't wait to get away from the stench of rotting meat – especially during the summer; the stench of it seemed to follow her – it seeped into everything. But most of all, she couldn't wait to get away from that cramped and sweaty garret, and her stepfather's wandering hands.