Page 63 of The Pumpkin Bride

Luckily, the wasps had cleared. Unusual, but she would not look a gift horse in the mouth. The fizzing desire had calmed as she worked, but only slightly. If she knew the direction of Coldpress Lake, she could fling herself into its chilly embrace and cool this attraction. Yes, a nice long swim in frigid water would—

A branch snapped nearby.

“Paloma?” she called.

No happy huffs or snorts in reply. Instead, laughter seemingly without source ricocheted among the trees. The hairs raised on her nape as Marigold swiveled her gaze around the orchard. The sky above was bruised with the clouds that had rolled over the farm. No one was here besides— No, wait. She squinted. There, beyond the orchard’s edges.

A shadow. A man’s shadow.

With her heart banging against her ribs, she called, “Hello there. Are you lost?”

The man stepped forward, still half in shadow, but revealed enough to make her gasp. Rowan. She dashed across the distance, hopped over the brook, and leapt into his arms, crushing dozens of apples between them. Tears sprang to her eyes as she laid her head against his chest. He must have journeyed long—he smelled of clinging cold and damp earth, the kind of scent found only in the deep forest.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” She sniffled. Unladylike, but Rowan had seen her in far worse states. “I’ve been so worried. How did you get here so quickly? Why didn’t you come directly to the cottage? I’m eager for you to meet my orc friend, Jask.”

Her brother said nothing as his arms tightened around her beyond the point of comfort, and her feet lost contact with the earth.

“Rowan?” She tried to push out of his embrace. “What are you—”

Marigold screamed.

Where her brother had been now stood a creature taller than Jask, with pale gray skin. Its beard was made of grass and tangled with leaves, with eyes a luminous green. It threw her over its shoulder and ran great loping strides that bounced the wind from her lungs.

Terror threatened to claw her brain.

No. Marigold refused the terror. She had been through too much for a damned forest creature to be the thing to take her down. Later tonight she could break down in a bath in front of the hearth or in Jask’s arms, but right now, she needed to get it together and focus.

With a snap of her fingers, she rained blue sparks on this tree creature. As it shrank, she tumbled and bounced against the earth, the world spinning as she came to rest against the base of a pine tree. Where was the nasty little thing? She’d lost her cloak but luckily not her knife. She fumbled at her hip for her gardening knife and unsheathed it, scouring the needle-strewn earth for her would-be kidnapper.

Her search soon ended.

With a fibrous creak, the creature shot back to full size. No, wait—bigger. The thing continued rocketing upward until it was as tall as the pines surrounding them. Where was she? Jask had never brought her to this part of the farm.

From above, the creature’s laughter boomed. Marigold surged to her feet. The earth shook as the thing stomped toward her. Little good her gardening knife would do her in this situation, but it was all she had.

“Stop!” she shouted and held up her palm in defense.

An orange orb of light erupted from her hand and flew at the creature. What in sweet mercy? It shimmered as the orbs collided with his brambled leg, but nothing happened. Great. A fresh magic unlocked in a moment of panic, and it did nothing.

“Marigold!” Jask shouted as he hurtled toward her, a death grip on his axe.

Gratitude ballooned in her chest. But there was no time for it. The first order of business was to escape this creature. Her magic didn’t work on it, and the giant was currently seven times her size. She ran toward Jask, lungs and legs screaming. But her feet found no purchase as they were now uselessly kicking in the air.

Oh goddammit. He’d pinched her up by the straps of the apple-picking bag.

Below her, Jask continued his sprint and leapt into the air . . .

. . . and bounced from something, then landed on his back with a grunt.

She blinked. With what had he collided? More of the creature’s magic?

No time to figure that out. She cut the straps of the apple-picking bag and plummeted back to earth. Luckily, the thick pine needles cushioned her fall. She kept her limbs loose and rolled with the impact.

“Lead him to me, Mare,” Jask shouted.

Lead? Why should she need to lead? It wasn’t like a forty-foot tree creature was hard to spot. Still, she scrambled to her feet and ran. The quaking earth nearly knocked from her feet three times as she hurtled toward Jask.

As she passed him, he cried, “Timber!”