Page 104 of The Pumpkin Bride

“No.” She gasped and clutched her hands together. “Did you do that to someone?”

“Not that I recall.” He wagged his tiny finger at her. “But I could, and you’d best not forget it.”

“An orc. Three years ago you turned Sir Bran Duncan into an orc. Yes, he tried to take your gold, but it was at someone else’s behest. You challenged him to a riddle, and he answered it correctly, so you should’ve let him go. But Prince Crispin told you to curse him anyway. That’s cheating.”

The sprite paled as he backed away. “I haven’t a clue what you’re on about.”

“Oh yes, you do.” She pursed her lips. “I can see it in your face.”

“You know me not, lady.”

“Princess, actually.” Maybe he was intimidated by royals, and that was why he did Crispin’s bidding? It was worth a shot. And in case he wasn’t . . .

She nabbed him by the feet and held him upside down. A challenge, as the sprite’s skin was slippery as moss.

“D’you have no sense, Red?” he said. “I’m fierce cranky. The Hunter’s Moon’s nearly upon us. When the sun rises after it, I’ll be off to slumber till the next equinox. Put me down and be on your way, or I’ll be forced to do something drastic. And mind your arse on the way down.”

“Can we talk like civilized people?” she asked. “I brought cake.”

He flapped his wings, curious. “What kind of cake is it, then?”

“Vanilla with pomegranate-cream frosting.”

The sprite raised an eyebrow. “No funny business?”

“All serious business. Baked goods and answers—that’s all.”

The sprite flitted closer, the buzz tingling her ear. “No one ever brings me anything.”

“Clearly a lack of proper upbringing.” She set him down and withdrew a cake wrapped in linen from her basket. “Here.”

He took it, sniffed at it, then unhinged his jaw and ate it in one bite.

And she thought Jask had rough table manners.

“Meh, I’ve had better,” the sprite said. “Is there more of it?”

“Plenty.” She handed him another cake. “Do you have a name?”

Crumbs filled the air as he spoke with a full mouth. “Oh, you’d like to know that, wouldn’t you?”

“It’s polite to use someone’s proper name. Did the cake help your memory?”

“A bit,” he said. “Better take another cake to be sure.”

Like the others, he ate it with nary a chew. The sprite’s belly, if possible, rounded further.

“I might remember your fella.” The sprite drummed his fingers against his belly. “Blond, was he?”

She sighed. “Like the sun in June.”

“Dimple? Blue eyes?”

“Like the early-morning sky, after the pink has faded.”

“You’re full lovestruck, aren’t you? A plain yes would’ve done the job.” The sprite tilted his head, and his hair wisped about his ears. “Are you the true love he mentioned?”

“He spoke of me?”