Page 73 of The Pumpkin Bride

“I can,” Bram said. “Do they know you’re here?”

“They’ve sent a half dozen of us into the hinterlands to search for Princess Marigold, which I can say since the guard already told you as much that first night. The others don’t know I’m in this specific part, though. I’m the only one on your farm.”

Though Bram was glad to have this intelligence, he’d taught the boy better than to reveal he was alone. A lesson that others should’ve reinforced. Once again, the lax protocols of Harvest Hollow would kill knights. If Bram wanted, he could rend this young man limb from limb and toss the pieces into the deep of the lake. Lucky for the boy, he was not a murderous monster.

He hooked his damp linen on his haversack. “Why have you ventured this way?”

“I’ve been following you, sir.”

“Call me Jask, in case ears are about.” Bram folded his arms. “I’m impressed. I didn’t detect you, even with my superior hearing.”

He couldn’t help but be proud of the young man. Coby was also a foundling who’d been made a squire in the prince’s guard. Given their similar circumstances, he’d taken a shine to the boy and taught him much in the time they’d served together.

Color rose in the young knight’s cheeks. “Thank you, sir.”

“Can we return to the point at hand? Why are you following me?”

“To apologize.” Coby’s lips formed a grim slash. “For what happened three years ago.”

A heaviness settled on Bram’s sternum. Saints, had Coby carried the weight of the curse on his shoulders? It always seemed the people least responsible bore the most guilt.

“Lad, no.” Bram clapped a hand on Coby’s pauldron. “You have nothing to apologize for. ’Twas my hubris that put me in that situation, and it was Crispin’s fault for invoking the curse. You are innocent of any misdeed.”

The young knight’s brows knitted. “But—”

“No, I won’t hear it. What could you have done? Argued with the prince? He would’ve had the sprite curse you as well.”

The young knight’s shoulders shuddered with a deep breath. “Thank you, sir. I mean Jask. And I want you to know—it was me who delivered the notice about . . . about Bram . . . to the princess. She, well, if you don’t mind me saying so, she was devastated. Her lady’s companion had to catch her to keep her from falling to the floor.”

Bram’s heart ached at the image. “I’m grateful it was you. But tell me, have you risked your station to apologize when you should be part of a search party?”

“Yes. I mean, no.” Coby scratched the back of his neck. “The person we’re searching for—it’s Princess Marigold. Besides the prince, her lady’s companion, and six of his knights including me, no one in Harvest Hollow knows she’s gone missing.”

“I hardly believe that, Coby. Surely you know if eight people are in on a secret, at least one of them has leaked it to others. My gold would be on Kevin.”

Coby’s lips twitched in a smile. “A safe bet, I agree. But I wanted to warn you that Grimroot Farms has been mentioned several times, for obvious reasons. The initial inspection the night she disappeared tempered the prince’s suspicions, and the search goes on elsewhere. I’m loyal to the kingdom, sir, but the prince . . . he’s not honorable, and in this, I do not wish to help him. So, I had an idea. If you had something of Princess Marigold’s, I could deposit it elsewhere in the kingdom. Perhaps nearer the Marches, to throw off the scent, so to speak.”

Bram shifted his weight as he considered the knight before him.

Coby had been a delightful squire. Absorbed lessons like a sponge, respectful, early to bed, early to rise, and skilled with blades and lances. He saw much of himself in the young man, including his ambition. Much as he wanted to trust Coby, giving him an item of Marigold’s would be a confession that she was on Grimroot Farm. There was a chance the young knight might leverage Marigold’s . . . recovery . . . to raise his station within Crispin’s circle.

So, he would not agree to it.

“A strategic plan,” Bram said. “Alas, I’ve nothing to offer. I’ve not seen Princess Marigold since our days in Thornwick.”

“Are you certain?” Coby searched his face.

Bram kept his features firm. “Yes.”

Coby nodded, then stepped back. “I need to return to avoid suspicion. The offer stands. If you change your mind, my patrol takes me here on this day every week, though usually in the morning. Farewell for now.”

Stones crunched under Coby’s feet as he departed to mount his horse.

With all the restraint he could muster, Bram pulled on his boots at a normal pace. Herons glided overhead, calling to each other, but the rapid pulse thumping in his ears drowned them out. Marigold was at the cottage, alone, because of his messy feelings.

What had he been thinking, spending the day away from her?

Her safety was, would always be, his priority.