Page 130 of The Pumpkin Bride

“No one should apologize for true love.” Grindlethwack flitted around Crispin’s head. “The only person who should apologize is you, you great weasel.”

Queen Elowen held her daughter’s hands. “True love?”

“It’s the only kind that breaks the curse.” Grindlethwack fluttered above them, swirling them with amber glitter.

Marigold beamed a smile at Bram. “The truest.”

“About that.” Bram cleared his throat as he shifted his gaze between her parents. “Sir, ma’am. Marigold and I . . . we’d like to marry and would be grateful for your blessing.”

The parents exchanged a glance. A silent conversation waged between them until, imperceptibly, Queen Elowen nodded.

King Matthias opened his arms. “We welcome you, Sir Bram Duncan, into our family. You’ve remained true to Marigold and have done our family and Thornwick a great service in protecting her from this craven lout.”

The crowd cheered as the king and queen embraced him. Their clothes were of the finest material he’d touched, but beneath it, their warmth and ready acceptance stole his breath. Saints, he’d forgotten how easy it was to shed tears as a human.

“Stop!” Crispin sputtered. “There’s more you should know about your daughter. More of her lies. Magical lies.”

Next to him, Marigold sighed, then pivoted toward her parents. “I am so tired of keeping secrets. Mama, Papa, let me strip the leaves from your branches. I possess magical abilities.”

“What?” her parents said in unison.

Her mother covered her mouth, then removed it. “My darling, when?”

“For the first one, five years ago. Bess told me not to tell both of you—said the laws of Thornwick forbid magic and my talents would put you in an awkward position. The second appeared roughly two weeks ago.”

King Matthias turned to Queen Elowen. “You said it skipped a generation.”

The queen flipped her hands to the sky. “I’m wrong sometimes.” To Bess, she said, “And how dare you encourage our daughter to divide herself from us in this manner?”

Rather than look abashed, Bess lifted her chin. “I was looking out for her in a way neither of you hypocrites seemed to. Crispin embraces magical abilities and would encourage her to use them instead of threaten her with the oubliette. They’re well-suited.”

“There’s still the whole willing-to-murder-my-brothers-by-proxy situation that’s hard to overlook.” Of her mother, Marigold asked, “And what do you mean, skips a generation?”

Queen Elowen splayed her fingers against her chest in a way that reminded Bram of Marigold. “I, too, possess magical abilities, but I’ve refrained from using them. As you say, Thornwick frowns upon such things, and Matthias and I were already budging up against propriety since my family is of the merchant class. But I’m eager to know, pumpkin. What are your gifts?”

“Minimancy, but I don’t know the second one’s name,” she said.

“Show me?”

Marigold popped the glowing orbs from her palms and flung them outward.

A stray orb splatted onto Crispin, who shimmered and showed as a small, puckered, ashy creature. The crowd gasped and shrank from him, while Isolde Fenlow frantically scribbled on a pad of paper.

Bram leaned toward Marigold and whispered, “Is he a creature masquerading as human?”

“No, I think that’s what he’s like on the inside,” she said.

After a beat the shimmer faded.

Queen Elowen widened her eyes. “Trueface. I’ve heard of it but never seen it.”

“That’s slander.” Crispin shook his finger at Marigold. “That wasn’t me. You don’t possess trueface, you’re—”

The autumn sprite fluttered toward Crispin. “Ah, give it a rest. They figured you out.”

“You’re audacious today, sprite.” The loathsome prince puffed up his chest and crossed his arms. “I command you to turn the lot of them into orcs. See how they like that.”

A smile spread over Grindlethwack’s face. “No.”