Page 123 of The Pumpkin Bride

“He’s not here yet—the falcon was a warning.”

The lute player cupped his hands around his mouth. “We’re taking a brief break. After we enjoy a pint of Elenor’s finest, we’ll return with plenty of vigor!”

With a smattering of applause, half the crowd drifted toward Elenor’s beer garden with the minstrels. A flourish of trumpets split the air, startling him. Whispers rose among those who remained in the meadow. Courtesy of his height, Bram had a clear view of the heralded arrival.

Their newest guests turned his stomach to stone.

Prince Crispin and his personal guard had arrived. Accompanying him were King Matthias and Queen Elowen of Thornwick—Marigold’s parents. Trailing just behind them was Bess, Marigold’s lady’s companion.

“Marigold, they’re here.” His breath came fast as he tugged her toward the cottage. Beside the pile of quarried fieldstones, he paused. Here, they were alone. “Crispin, his privy circle of knights, your parents, and Bess. Run. Shrink. I’ll keep them busy.”

“But in order for us to remain together—”

He held her face. “I adore your optimism that they’ll support our love match. They may, but this is not the time nor the place. Rowan’s right. Marrying a commoner orc is unthinkable. Crispin will make a meal of this, delight in making a big show of how much they approve of him before we can tell them the truth of his plot. They cannot discover you with him orchestrating the conversation. ’Tis simply your word against his, and so I say again: Run, Princess.”

Marigold furrowed her brow. “But—”

“It’s not your parents you should worry about,” a low, thick voice said.

Bram shielded Marigold’s body from Kevin’s brutish gaze. Blood and bones, no evidence of a soul danced in the eyes of Crispin’s man-at-arms.

“You’ll come with me, Princess.” Kevin drummed his sausage-like fingers against his sword’s hilt. “I’ve a gentle way or an ugly way—choose.”

From behind Bram, she said, “I choose neither.”

Marigold squeezed his hand twice, then let go. Behind his back, Marigold’s body heat fizzed, then disappeared as she shrank herself.

Bram clutched a pumpkin-sized stone. “Looks like it’s the ugly way.”

“A poor choice.” Kevin slipped his sword from its scabbard. “I told Crispin we should’ve killed you that night years ago. After I dissect you, I’ll inform the crowd you kidnapped the princess and enslaved her on this farm since the first banns were read in the cathedral.”

“I’ve done no such thing,” Bram growled.

Cold mirth lit the knight’s eyes. “And who will they believe, orc? Me or a monster?”

“Monster or not, they’re my friends, so I’d bet on me.”

Bram gestured to the happy lantern-lit faces. Matilda walked by with her exhausted boy wrapped in her arms. Elenor clinked tankards with Brother Oswald. Beyond the beer garden, Alfred gave children hayrides toward the orchard. And there, by the pumpkin carving tables, Beatrix chatted with Coby.

Coby! Bram searched the crowd for Rowan and Princess Rosamund. If the young knight was here, did that mean they’d succeeded in their mission? With Marigold safely on the run, they could strike the flint on the plan to unseat Crispin with the rightful heir, his sister.

Kevin bellowed with laughter. “You’re a fool. The day men believe orcs before knights is the day pigs wear crowns.”

“That can be arranged, oaf.” Bram hurled the stone at Kevin. It exploded against the maple tree behind the knight. “Leave. I won’t miss a second time.”

“Enough.” Kevin charged him.

Bram easily dodged the man-at-arms. Points to the orc’s body for its speed as well as its strength. Behind him, Kevin met nothing but air.

“Where did she—”

Barnaby, ever the broken clock, drowned out the knight with a heart-stopping shout.

“Tell me where she is,” Kevin snarled.

A familiar huff-huff-huff came around the corner. Clever woman. Marigold must’ve opened Paloma’s gate. The pig locked onto Kevin, then scraped a hoof against the flagstones and lowered her head. A challenge.

“Call off your pig,” Kevin said. “Fight honorably.”