Page 88 of The Pumpkin Bride

Elenor dropped her head back dramatically at the first bite. “This is like autumn on a fork. If I chased it with the cider, I’d feel like I’m double-dipping on the season.”

“Thanks?”

She pointed her fork at him. “Are you sure you won’t set up a market stall? Rémy’s retiring, and we could use another baker.”

“Not a baker,” he said. “I’m a—”

Knight. But that was no longer true. And while he carried the training with him, he wasn’t sad about losing that warrior identity. He had been, once open a time. But no more.

“—farmer.”

“This pie would argue,” Alfred said. “As would those cakes on the counter. But you could be both if you’d allow visitors.”

“That reminds me.” Bram snapped his fingers. “I need your help. We’re planning to hold the Goldenmoon Festival here.”

Alfred blessed himself. “Saints, you’ve been possessed.”

Bram crossed his arms. “It’s Meg’s idea. She thought since the festival’s been canceled, we could invite Harvest Hallow to celebrate here. Apple picking, caramel apples, bonfires, dancing, pumpkin carving, pumpkin decoration, pumpkin throwing. Maybe a hay-bale maze? Things like that. Anyone who sets up a stall could sell their wares, too.”

“One week is tight,” Elenor finished her pie. “But I’d love to stick it to the prince. Imagine canceling the most joyous day of the year for most in the kingdom without so much as a by-your-leave. If I put the word out and get you minstrels, I can run the beer garden?”

“Be my guest,” Bram said. “And thank you. Alfred, can I ask you to circle back this way in three days’ time with a pound of nails?”

Alfred nodded. “Can do. What for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Bram chuckled to himself. “A gazebo.”

Chapter 24

Marigold stomped through the damp forest, angrily appreciating the beauty around here. Golden fingers of light streamed through the leaves, and the orange-and-yellow carpet of their fallen brethren glowed in the sun. A perfect backdrop for a romantic romp.

But Jask had chosen a railing repair over her.

“Nature is soothing, my ass,” she muttered.

She’d been out here for a half an hour and was no calmer than when she’d left. She understood wanting to protect the chickens—she’d be horrified if anything happened to the girls. Barnaby, too, she grudgingly admitted.

But it was her birthday.

Not that he knew she turned twenty-nine today. As the date approached, it felt increasingly awkward to bring it up out of nowhere. But now she wished she had, because it was a normal piece of information you provided to the person you loved.

She stopped and leaned upon a tree as the realization wrapped itself around her soul.

Love. She’d fallen in love with Jask?

With her hand pressed to her chest, her stomach swirled. Saints, she had fallen in love again. Her young love with Bram was all sunny possibility and the conviction that all would work out well in the end. Her feelings for Jask were more rooted. This Marigold understood that life contained shadows but found the courage to open her heart again.

To the love, yes, but also to the pain.

How would a love match with an orc work? She clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. Not that she believed it of them, but if Bess believed her parents frowned upon her marrying a knight, what in the five kingdoms would she counsel about marrying an orc? Would any children be added to the line of succession?

A blur rolled past her, leaves crackling underneath it.

“What in sweet mercy?” She whirled and held out her hands as a small creature ran at her. Orange orbs of light erupted from both palms and flew at her attacker, twisting and twining around each other as they went.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

This wasn’t a creature—this was a child.