Page 118 of The Pumpkin Bride

“Thank you, all the same.” Now to gather intelligence from the young knight. “How goes the search for the princess?”

“Fruitless. They’ve combed Harvest Hollow from the Gildfall Mountains to the Marches and have turned up nothing. The crown continues to tell us that Princess Marigold has taken to her bed. Prayers are requested in the cathedral during every service, and the people have covered Brambleton Castle’s gates with well wishes and her favorite sunflowers.”

His heart ached for the good people of Harvest Hollow.

The deserved better than Prince Crispin. The popinjay was probably seething with jealousy that his people lavished the unknown princess with attention. No, the prince was not fit to lead these compassionate folk—his plots, lies, pettiness, and the coffers emptied for his personal benefit were more than enough evidence.

Bram pinched his nose, then stared at the byre’s roof.

He might’ve been a farmer with more personal shite to contend with than was fair, and he would love not to care about communities beyond his borders, but he was also a trained knight devoted to the chivalric order, and this kingdom was in distress. Part of the plot Marigold overheard involved sending her to Scarlet Spire to gain control of Thornwick’s throne.

What if Crispin had done such a thing before, to his own sister?

“Sir Coby, I’ve a thought. Princess Rosamund—has she ventured to home for the royal wedding? Or is she still languishing at Scarlet Spire and taking the seaside air?”

“There’s no news of her traveling. I believe she’s still there.”

That tracked with Bram’s suspicions. “Then . . . I think you must undertake a quest.”

Coby raised an eyebrow. “Is it noble?”

“The most noble.” Bram clapped him on the shoulder. “Travel to Scarlet Spire and inform Princess Rosamund of what’s happening in Harvest Hollow. Writing it down would put you in danger, but the list is this—the king is in his dotage, and the prince spends wastefully. His taxes squeeze the people to madness. To quash dissent, he leverages the magic of a sprite. He will not listen to advisors and keeps his own counsel. The prince’s betrothed has run away, and he’s yet to find her. For all these reasons, it’s vital Princess Rosamund return and take her rightful place as the head of House Batten-Forge. Offer to escort her back—her people need her.”

He left out the Thornwick murder-and-throne plot. The rest of the list should be enough to shake any sovereign out of their convalescence.

Coby widened his eyes. “I’m to say all that? Royals don’t receive truth well.”

Bram snorted. “Trust, I’m aware. Can you do this?”

“Yes?” Coby’s gaze softened as he ran the scenario in his head. Then, with greater certainty, he said, “Yes. The Scarlet Spire is a two-day ride. If she doesn’t have me brained on the spot for my candor, we may be back by week’s end.”

“If she’s like her brother, she’ll be quick to decide.” Bram folded his forearms. “But let’s hope she is not, in fact, like her brother in all ways. I have faith in you, Coby.”

The lad boosted his shoulders. “I’m grateful for the vote of confidence.”

“If all goes well, you’ll be back in time for the Goldenmoon Festival, and the day will be full of nothing but merriment.”

“But what if Prince Crispin attends? He’s right vexed it’s happening, and—”

“Pardon the intrusion.” Rowan appeared at the doorway. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”

Bram squeezed his fists. The House of Ashford should swap their family crest’s unicorn for a mouse or a mule, because their silence and stubborn streaks ran as wide as his fields. And his sudden appearance was most inconvenient. Explaining this prince’s presence at the farm would be as easy as shoving a pumpkin through a fence knothole.

“Go away,” Bram said. “This does not involve you.”

“I’d say it does, old friend.” Rowan stepped forward, spreading his hands wide. “All I offer is help. It’ll be easier for another royal to gain access to Scarlet Spire and Princess Rosamund than a knight.” He nodded at Coby. “No offense.”

Coby briefly bent his knee and bowed his head. “None taken. Those are facts. Prince Rowan of Thornwick, I believe?”

Annoyed as he was at Rowan’s presence, Bram was pleased with the young knight’s keen mind. The Thornwick royal family’s likenesses had been shared in the broadsheets along with the announcement of the betrothal.

“Indeed,” Rowan said and shook Coby’s outstretched hand.

“So the princess is here, then?” Coby shifted his gaze between Rowan and Bram. “I’m glad of it. I’d worried that she’d got lost in the Marches or, worse, the Shivering Dales.”

“She’s safe,” Bram said.

“Leaving me free to accompany you,” Rowan said to Coby. “We must relieve Crispin of his throne, and two have a greater chance of success than one.”