Page 117 of The Pumpkin Bride

“What?” Rowan asked.

Bram lowered his brow. “Yes, what?”

“For a month now, Prince Crispin’s claimed I’m too sick to marry. We obviously need to hold him to account for his dastardly murder plot, but would it be such a stretch for everyone to believe I’d died?” She bounced on her toes. “Yes. Death may be the solution. I could fake it like one of those poison-apple princesses. Then I’d be free to live as I choose. Mayhap we could fix the blame upon him, too, and add that to his crimes.”

“No, Marigold,” Bram said. “I’ve lived the last three years of my life as another person. Not being able to own my name has clawed at me, and I would never ask you to do the same.”

“But I—”

They swiveled their heads toward a knock at the cottage door.

Chapter 35

Bram’s pulse hammered in his ears. The shadow cast upon the drawn curtains at the window nearest the cottage door was unmistakably Coby. Their previous encounters allowed them to maintain plausible deniability of any kind of alliance between them. He’d simply been an orc bathing in the lake. Coby had been a knight on patrol.

Words were exchanged—that was all.

Arriving on his doorstep was a different matter. Harvest Hollow knights rarely knocked on farmers’ doors for a friendly chat. Coby did not know for certain that Marigold was here, and he’d prefer to keep it that way. He doubted Coby was accompanied by other palace guards, but if by chance he was . . .

“It’s one of Crispin’s knights,” he said to Marigold and Rowan. “Stay here, and do not follow. I’ll deal with him.”

He slipped out of the cottage. After closing the door behind him, he trod down the porch stairs and hooked a finger through the air. “Come with me.”

“Did you get a horse?” Coby eyed Rowan’s mount as he followed. “Looks a bit small to carry you.”

Bram ignored the question as he led Coby to the byre. Queen mooed in greeting. At the final stall, where his tools lay, he turned to the young knight. “Why are you here? For your protection and mine, our connection should remain secret.”

Coby looked confused. “But I got your note.”

“And the idea was you’d write back. The guard will notice your absence, won’t they? Might get curious about where you’ve gone.”

“They think I’m sick—I pretended to vomit.”

Bram flinched at the word.

“I’d planned to send word back with Alfred, as you’d asked.” Coby reached into his brigandine and withdrew a folded square. “But thought I should encode it in the event someone nosed through my communication. But I couldn’t encode it because the answer itself is coded. It all felt quite complicated in my mind, so I gave up and brought it to you directly. Here.”

Bram plucked the proffered note from Coby’s hand.

With trembling fingers, he opened the letter that contained his curse-breaking salvation. His eyes scanned Coby’s neat handwriting.

Once, twice, a third time.

“This can’t be correct.” He glanced at Coby. “You’re sure?”

Coby nodded. “That’s what the sprite said. I repeated it during the long walk back from the Lantern Oak. As soon as I got back to my cot, I scribbled it down. But I can’t say I understood it.”

“What the hell does it mean?”

Coby shrugged. “I wish I knew, sir.”

His hopes fizzled and shrank. He wished freedom from this curse was as simple as bringing sugared treats to the sprite. But if what Coby had written was accurate, Marigold must return to the Lantern Oak on his behalf. He stood by what he’d said to her earlier—engaging with the sprite was inherently dangerous and not worth the risk to her life.

No, they would not go down that path.

Bram folded the useless note and tucked it into his breeches’ pocket.

Alas, he’d hoped for an easy solution. Marigold insisted she’d be happy with a life here at Grimroot Farm, but Rowan was right—the world would not let them be happy together if he remained an orc. An impossible situation.