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The sun faded, leaving skinny ribbons of gold weaving through the dark sky. She could barely make out the two males serving mead beyond the crowd of witches. Soren had been right, they were flocked. She even spied Noam and Rhetter waiting in their line.
Thessa and Leora eyed each other, agreeing to flee. They skirted right, towards the food.
The Elemental in the tent before them was finger-searing meat sticks. He held a wooden skewer in one hand and used a flaming-finger from the other to crisp the edges.
A few Cheltz later, they were eating goat thigh on sticks and headed toward the next tent. The one full of botanicals.
Waiting in line, Thessa engulfed her meat. The bitter char on her tongue tasted heavenly as she glanced around the tent. The elixirs and potions were arranged by color, in different vials and pitchers. The lighter the color, the milder, according to the signage.
Many Botanical witches were masters of chemistry. If not healing, they were often found gardening, tea-tending and brewing concoctions for various purposes.
Thessa stared at the specials listed on a hanging chalkboard with Leora. For the mood-bending effect she desired, Thessa would need a potion.
Leora had left the choice up to her, not encouraging, nor discouraging.
The vendor eyed Thessa now, awaiting her order.
“One Violet Dream, please.”
“Make that two,” Leora added.
“That’ll be five Cheltz each.” The Botanical witch with silver hair but a face of youth, drummed her bone-thin fingers along the make-shift bar top.
As Thessa reached into her satchel, Leora dropped ten coins in the vendor’s open palm. The witch closed her fist and spun around. “This one’s on me,” Leora said, smiling.
“You didn’t have to?—”
“I know but I wanted to, and I secretly wanted the same thing. Good choice.”
“Thank you.” Thessa half-smiled as she read the description again.
Violet Dream: butterfly pea flower tea with added euphoric and energy boosting effects.
When bony fingers flashed before her, they were holding two vials that contained no more than a gulp. Snatching their mood-benders, Thessa and Leora ditched the tent.
Witches were everywhere now, some in groups and others coupled.
Standing there with lush grass under their clogs, Leora questioned her, “Are you sure you want to take this?”
If Leora was searching for hesitation, she wouldn’t find any. Thessa tipped her head back and gulped the potion down.
“To the music?” Thessa asked, tossing her vial and stick in the nearby bin.
“That answers that.” Leora followed suit.
Hand in hand they walked across the field, toward the sounds of flutes and fiddles. Some witches were sitting for the show, but most were dancing. Thessa moved along with the music, entering the crowd.
With the potion setting in, her body felt lighter, and her mind buzzed with—nothing. Nothing at all. She and Leora danced together for a while, before parting into their own moves.
The bottom of Thessa’s white dress muddied as she twirled. She didn’t care about the dirt. She didn’t care about anything other than the music and the handsome fiddler who kept eyeing her. His mahogany eyes and hair were so beautiful. So was Leora, and everyone else around her.
A male voice cut across her ecstasy. “Think you could get away without your fair wages, did you?”
Thessa and Leora whirled to see Emiel standing under a string of lamplight. Soren stood behind him, like a shadow.
Leora launched with her arms outspread. “Emiel!” She hugged him as if he were her long-lost friend.
“Someone found the potions tent, I see.” Emiel smirked as Leora squeezed. His cheeks turned as bright as his hair. “Go on, take your mead,” Emiel pleaded, working desperately not to spill the glasses in his hands.