Page 112 of The Pumpkin Bride

Which meant she’d pay the autumn sprite another visit.

Chapter 33

No sooner had Marigold scattered sand on the last of the broadsides than Alfred’s bell jingled along the path to the cottage. With less than a week before the festival, they needed to get the word out to as many people as possible. Alfred said the markets were already buzzing with anticipation.

This would be so good for Bram.

Harvest Hollow would accept him—of that, she had no doubt. They’d be curious about the hermit orc, too, and many would attend the Goldenmoon Festival to see him with their own eyes. That played into her plans.

With as big a crowd as possible, she could reveal to all that he was Sir Bram Duncan of Thornwick, her true love, and Prince Crispin had forced the autumn sprite to transform him. She wanted everyone in the five kingdoms to know of the prince’s thin-skinned treachery.

She shimmied with delicious anticipation.

That smug royal blowhard had banished and tethered Bram to this remote farm to clear the path toward making his own play for her. Crispin had probably enjoyed it since his people adored her true love more than they did their prince. But who wouldn’t adore Bram? Not because he was handsome or long of limb. No, because of how he made them feel. Ever the gentleman, he was unfailingly kind and put people at ease.

He was like that as a child, too.

Like with Rowan, her shy twin. As boys, Bram was full of good humor and possessed more confidence than he had a right to, whereas Rowan was a secret alchemist who uttered as few words as possible. Beckett, a few years younger, was also a friend, but not as close as Rowan and Bram. The two boys made each other laugh during their instruction in arms and horsemanship so much that Sir Patrick often separated them.

She knew, because she watched their lessons until Bess dragged her back to her needlework and penmanship lessons.

The knock on the front door broke her reverie.

“You in there, Miss Meg?” Alfred asked. “I’m here for the broadsides. Jask asked me to circle back twice as often as you get ready for the festival.”

As she opened the door, the wind whipped it from her hand. “Goodness! Does this kind of wind visit Harvest Hollow often?”

“No, ma’am. It’s blustering more than my Great-Uncle Glorian, I’ll tell you that.” Alfred helped her tug the door closed. “Hope it doesn’t tear all the leaves from the trees. The festival’ll be more picturesque with bright foliage in the background.”

“My hopes are the same.” Marigold peered out the window. “Did you see Jask?”

Alfred shook his head. “Nice pile of pumpkins in the field, though.”

“He harvested them for the activities. There should be three different piles for the jack-o’-lantern carving, pumpkin decorating, and the pumpkin-chucking competition.”

“The kids’ll love it.” Afred sniffed the air. “Is that one of your mint tisanes?”

“Mint and blackberry. I’ll pour you a cup.”

“I’ll thank you for it.” Alfred took up his normal seat at the table. “Miss Meg, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Is it about the vendor stalls? Because we’ll have room for a dozen vendors to set up and sell their wares.”

“Ah, I’ll be sure to tell the nut monger—he was wondering. But no that wasn’t my question. I was wondering . . . are you the Thornwick princess?”

She spluttered her drink. “Excuse me, that was unladylike.”

“Doesn’t bother me.” He wrapped his wrinkled hands around the steaming mug. “But are you? The princess, I mean.”

Marigold met Alfred’s kind eyes. From the first, Alfred wasn’t intimidated by the orc who’d suddenly appeared on Grimroot Farm. The carter was a lifeline for Bram from his earliest days here. For that, Alfred would forever have a place in her heart. For now, though, for her safety and Bram’s, she needed to deny her identity.

“Don’t be silly, Alfred. Would a princess muck out stalls?”

“If she were a good one, yes.” Alfred blew onto his mug. “Good folk do what needs getting done, no matter what their station.”

“I agree. So, why are you looking for the princess?”

“I’m not. But the palace guards are. More aggressive than before, they are.”