Page 119 of The Pumpkin Bride

Bram turned the offer in his mind, looking for the catch. “Your involvement will raise tensions between the kingdoms, possibly the entire Lunara Peninsula.”

“Then so be it.” Rowan rested his hand on his hilt. “The threat to Thornwick, and to my family, is too great not to act.”

Bram saw Rowan in a new light. He was not just a friend—he was an ally. For so long, Bram had shouldered his plight alone, braced for the impact of another blow from fate. Since Marigold returned to him, she’d shown him that more hands make the load lighter. That he could place his trust in others.

He held Rowan’s shoulder. “For a future king, you have the spine.”

Rowan grinned. “I’m aware.”

After thumbing a tear from his eye, Bram clapped a hand on Coby’s shoulder as well. “Rowan, my oldest and dearest friend, allow me to introduce you to Sir Coby Goodwin, who may be the truest knight of the realm. Together, we may yet save my future and, as a side quest, save Harvest Hollow.”

Chapter 36

Marigold’s stomach fizzed. Today was the day of the Goldenmoon Festival. The importance of the day hummed in her bones. Many of the people who made Harvest Hollow a charming, warm kingdom would meet Bram today. His tenderness and humor would shine through, dissipating their misperceptions of the orc’s surliness. Even if he never again stepped foot from Grimroot Farm again, he would not want for company.

She cared not a whit for the plan Bram, Rowan, and Coby, the adorable golden retriever of a knight, had hashed out at the kitchen table yesterday while she fed them pumpkin crumble and hot cider. No, all she cared about at the moment was the festival. The day would be full of merriment, drink, and food.

She opened the door to the porch and frowned.

Hmph. The day, in fact, was full of clouds.

The swirling gray taunted her from above. “This is a disaster.”

Bram’s arm curled around her back. “It’s not a disaster, my love.”

“It is.” She thrust her hands toward the field. “This is an outdoor event. Meant to celebrate the resplendence of the season. Mud is not resplendent.”

His hand played at her hip. “Paloma would argue with you.”

“Paloma is a pig.”

“An intelligent pig.”

Marigold elbowed him. “Stop trying to make me feel better.”

“It’ll be fine. Common folk are hearty folk. Nothing holds us back from a celebration, even if it means dancing in the rain and mud. Better yet, the possibility of muck will keep Crispin in his castle and we needn’t worried about him gracing us with his presence. Now, will you please minimize the tables so I can distribute them to their various stations?”

He gestured to the dozen tables he’d built in the last weeks. They were his own ingenious design, with legs on hinges so they could be folded and easily stored in the byre’s empty stalls when they weren’t in use.

“Yes.” She snapped, and blue sparkles rained until the tables reduced to the size of a deck of playing cards.

Bram gathered them into a haversack. “Thank you. I’ll let you know when they’re arranged so you can enlarge them. Elenor’s note said she’d arrive in an hour to set up the beer garden, and the other vendors will soon follow. We’ll be set for the noon start.”

She eyed the clouds and muttered, “Hope those burn off by then.”

As Bram headed toward the pumpkin fields, Marigold disappeared inside to check her preparation list. Ah, yes—next was to wrap her identifiable hair in a scarf on the chance any of the palace guard might attend the festival. A wimple was more fashionable these days, but she couldn’t fathom swaddling her chin and neck in volumes of fabric.

Fuzzle leapt onto the counter and butted her hand, greedy for pets.

“Feeling lonely?” She scratched behind the cat’s ears. “Sorry. We’ve been so busy these last few days.”

Fuzzle leaned low and tapped the pull for the catchall drawer. He went after it like it was catnip. Which, ew, might mean there’s a mouse in there? Or a large spider? Between the two, she’d prefer the mouse.

“Don’t bring me anything dead as a prize, please?”

Marigold tugged open the drawer. Fuzzle batted something around in it until a folded piece of parchment flew free. As he sat to lick his paws, she picked it up to put it back.

“Is this what you wanted?” she asked.