Page 116 of The Pumpkin Bride

Marigold’s thoughts didn’t line up. “Why do you believe him now?”

“Sir Patrick endlessly chastised me that way.” Rowan laughed as he thumped Bram’s back. “If I winced as a wooden sword thumped my leg—I needed more spine. Didn’t seat my horse perfectly—more spine. Slow to strap into my armor—spine. Only Beckett, Bram, and I would know that.”

She beetled her brows. “I’m offended.”

“Don’t be. I require evidence before believing anything.” Rowan stepped back to clamp his hands on Bram’s shoulders. “How did this happen? A sprite, you said?”

Bram gestured to Marigold. “You’d better tell it. To stay within the loophole.”

She nodded and tucked a curl behind her ear. “When Bram came to Harvest Hollow seeking fame and fortune, he outshone Prince Crispin one too many times for the prince’s comfort. Crispin also had designs on me, for all the reasons I wrote you in my letters—to marry, get me with child, murder you and Beckett, put me away at Scarlet Spire, and, ultimately, unite and rule both thrones and despoil Thornwick. So, under the guise of harvesting the autumn sprite’s gold acorns, which grow in the Lantern Oak, Crispin set a trap for Bram to engage with the sprite.”

“That sounds exhausting,” Rowan said. “But sprites only bargain with willing souls, don’t they?”

“I was willing,” Bram huffed. “Crispin promised me a title and a share of the gold I harvested if I accepted the challenge.”

Rowan twisted his signet ring. “Oh, friend. That’s a dangerous game.”

“Trusting a sprite? Or persuading your parents of my worth?”

“Both.” Rowan reclaimed his seat and his mug. “I take it you lost?”

“He won.” Marigold set down her tankard, then stood next to Bram. “Crispin has control of the autumn sprite and ordered him to transform Bram and tether him to this farm. While the curse is in force, he can never leave.”

Rowan shifted his gaze between them. “Do I detect an attachment between you?”

For once, her brother’s observations were accurate.

“Yes.” She reached for Bram’s hand. “I love Bram, and he, me.”

With his ankle crossed over his knee, Rowan jiggled his foot. After a few quiet seconds, he seemed to arrive at a conclusion and nodded. “When did this . . .” Rowan gestured toward them. “Kindle?”

Marigold kissed the back of Bram’s hand. “In Thornwick. Before Bram left. It’s why he left. To improve his circumstances so he could ask for my hand.”

“You were discreet. I knew not of this.”

Rowan wouldn’t have noticed unless she and Bram had cavorted nude in front of him. Her sweet twin noticed the tiniest of details or big walloping facts but rarely anything in between.

Fuzzle switched allegiances and leapt onto the divan next to Rowan, then sniffed at the tankard.

“So, what is it you want to do, Marigold?” Rowan slid a palm against his neck. “Shall I spirit you to Mareval, then Thornwick, so we might inform our parents in private council? It seems you’re happy here on this farm—”

“Deliriously so.” She wrapped her arms around Bram’s waist.

“But you’re still a daughter of the House of Ashford. Our parents’ blessing is required if there’s to be anything . . . permanent between you. Is there any chance of reinstating Bram to normal?”

Something pulled tight across her chest, like a bow about to let an arrow fly.

With calm, protective anger, she said, “He is normal.”

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Rowan said quickly. “The crown could grant him land and a title in reward for his knightly service giving safe harbor to you. Marriage to a commoner is a scandal but manageable if he’s human. To an orc, though? Unthinkable. You’d need to give up your claim to the throne and remain here.”

Everything he said, she already knew. He meant well, but her brother was yet another person trying to school her on the ways of the world. He could not fathom that she understood the mechanics of noble society and would simply . . . opt out.

“Well, think it, Rowan.”

Bram lifted her chin, his face soft. “Marigold, love, I never intended for you to walk away from the crown itself.”

“I’m walking toward you, Bram.” She cut her gaze to Rowan. “What if I died?”