My Carmilla (WICKED ARRANGEMENTS) by Anita Zara EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Anita Zara
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
A sea of wildflowers swayed in the breeze, shades of lavender, gold, and
pinks. I knelt to pick a handful of daisies, Bertha’s favorite flowers. Today,
my bounty wasn’t for the usual vase. The air thrummed with cicadas, a low,
rhythmic hum matching my anticipation. Tomorrow, General Spielsdorf and
his niece would arrive for a month-long stay, and I wanted to create a
welcoming haven for Bertha
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Marking off the days felt like counting down to a long-desired feast. The
halls of the schloss, despite its inhabitants – my father and governesses –
were vast and isolating. The prospect of a girl my age, a companion, was a
rare treat.
Mademoiselle De Lafontainee, my governess, had suggested writing letters
to Bertha. A written introduction, she’d said, would make the girl feel more
welcome during her stay. So began a rapt exchange of letters, and
somewhere along the pages, a friendship had quickly blossomed.
A splash of vibrant blue caught my eye. Forget-me-nots, flowers conveying
affection. They joined the growing bouquet, followed by a cluster of pink
carnations, their ruffled edges mirroring the playful spirit that danced in
Bertha’s letters. I nestled a blushing peony in the bouquet, a whisper of the
shyness I harbored about meeting the girl. The basket overflowed with
flowers now. With each bloom, I had poured my affections, a serenade sung
in the language of flowers.
Barefoot on the mossy ground, I walked back to the schloss when a flower
hidden among the tall grasses caught my attention. A solitary bloom, defiant
in its isolation. Lycoris radiata or spider lily some called it. The flower
stood tall and proud, its spindly stamens pulsing with crimson hues. Its
petals, the color of freshly spilled blood.
The flower’s unsettling beauty ensnared me. Tentatively, I plucked the
lycoris, its stamen brushing my palm like a spider’s legs, and placed it in
the center of the bouquet. The other flowers paled in comparison, their
gentle pastels muted against the sharp red.
“Laura,” said Madame Perrodon. “How many times must I remind you that
it is not proper for a young lady to traipse around barefoot?”
Perhaps, Madame, fresh air and sunshine are more proper than restricting
one’s spirit. In lieu of that, I simply smiled. “Don’t worry about me. The
earth agrees with my toes.”
“Let the girl be,” Mademoiselle De Lafontaine said to a glaring Madame
Perrodon. “Didn’t the Greeks believe that feeling the earth with bare feet
connected one with the divine?” Her smile, crinkling the corners of her
eyes, held a warmth that felt vaguely maternal, a welcome comfort in the
absence of my own mother.
“Have any letters come for me?” I asked my governesses.
Madame Perrodon shook her head. “They’re all for your father, child.
Restorations, all of them.”
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