Page 56 of The Pumpkin Bride

Aha, she knew there was something here.

“You were in the guard? Where?”

“My home kingdom. My captain taught us the basics as he didn’t want the company held captive by their bowels.” He dusted his hands together. “Let’s find the other herbs.”

She had no fewer than a thousand questions, but the set to Jask’s jaw meant she’d receive zero answers. Patience was not her best virtue, but her proximity to nature was helping. Since she’d been on the farm, her frustrations weren’t as sharp, her worries as deep.

Jask, on the other hand, grew more terse as they ventured through the forest. In short time, they found both the sage and parsley. As a bonus, yarrow as well. As with the mint, she dug up a small portion from the moist earth for planting, then tied a ribbon ’round the stems of the freshly cut batch.

“That’ll do,” she said.

As she rose to her feet, she saw the mists clearing ahead. In the distance, the forest opened into a meadow. At its center stood an enormous tree crowned in crimson, orange, and golden leaves, with a base as big around as Jask’s cottage. This was the tree she encountered during her escape, where she’d wanted to rest under the light of its orbs.

She took a step toward it.

Jask followed her gaze and grabbed her shoulder. “Hold, Princess. That’s the Lantern Oak, home to an autumn sprite. We must let it be.”

Rage, sharp and quick, sliced through her. Let it be? She’d tear it down to find the sprite and get answers about Bram. She dropped the basket of herbs and launched into a run toward the oak.

Pounding steps caught up to her. “Marigold, stop!”

Jask belt an arm around her waist and sealed her to him. Her skirts flared as he turned her away from the tree.

“Let me go.” She pounded at Jask’s iron grip. “That’s—that’s where it happened! Bram. The sprite.”

Her attempt to wriggle free was thwarted by his unrelenting arms. She raised her fingers to snap, to minimize him and dash to the tree, but he let her go and wrapped his fists around her hands.

“Marigold, stop.”

“Please. I need to know what happened.” Tears threatened but did not fall. She was too angry. At the sprite, and at Jask for stopping her. “There were no details in the letter, and I couldn’t ask Crispin without making it seem like I doubted the match between us. So, please, let me go.”

Jask kinked his knees, his eyes level with hers. “Hear me, Princess. This won’t end well. Like a cat that tortures a mouse, sprites play with humans for their amusement. Do not poke at him for answers. All you’ll achieve is more misery.”

“I’d sacrifice everything to know what happened.”

“Would Bram want that?” His gold-flecked gaze searched hers. “Or would he want you to live your best life, even if he couldn’t be a part of it? From what you’ve shared, I’d wager it’s the latter.”

In her bones, she knew he was right. But she hated it.

“Okay,” she exhaled. “Okay.”

They did not speak on the way back to the farm. Her eyes barely tracked the path, and her thoughts ran too deep for light conversation. The night she’d run from the castle . . . Had she unwittingly traced Bram’s final steps? Rested where he’d died? Had he been the reason she’d arrived at Jask’s door none the worse for wear?

As they emerged from the forest, they found Alfred in his cart in the front yard, enjoying a pipe of dreamleaf.

“There you are.” Alfred tipped his cap. “Afternoon, Miss Meg.”

Marigold set her basket down. “Are you here for more pumpkins? Won’t take but a minute for us to harvest them again.”

“Afraid not, dear. But I’ve the goods Jask requested.”

Alfred hopped down from the driver’s box, then circled to the cart. Amid the parcels and baskets, he fished out a bundle wrapped in paper and tied in string.

“Here you are.” He thrust them toward Marigold. “Two homespun dresses.”

A soft, pleasant ache pulsed under her ribs. “For me?”

Jask nodded as she took the garments from Alfred.