Chapter 35
Bram’s pulse hammered in his ears. The shadow cast upon the drawn curtains at the window nearest the cottage door was unmistakably
Coby. Their previous encounters allowed them to maintain plausible deniability of any kind of alliance between them. He’d
simply been an orc bathing in the lake. Coby had been a knight on patrol.
Words were exchanged—that was all.
Arriving on his doorstep was a different matter. Harvest Hollow knights rarely knocked on farmers’ doors for a friendly chat.
Coby did not know for certain that Marigold was here, and he’d prefer to keep it that way. He doubted Coby was accompanied
by other palace guards, but if by chance he was . . .
“It’s one of Crispin’s knights,” he said to Marigold and Rowan. “Stay here, and do not follow. I’ll deal with him.”
He slipped out of the cottage. After closing the door behind him, he trod down the porch stairs and hooked a finger through
the air. “Come with me.”
“Did you get a horse?” Coby eyed Rowan’s mount as he followed. “Looks a bit small to carry you.”
Bram ignored the question as he led Coby to the byre. Queen mooed in greeting. At the final stall, where his tools lay, he
turned to the young knight. “Why are you here? For your protection and mine, our connection should remain secret.”
Coby looked confused. “But I got your note.”
“And the idea was you’d write back. The guard will notice your absence, won’t they? Might get curious about where you’ve gone.”
“They think I’m sick—I pretended to vomit.”
Bram flinched at the word.
“I’d planned to send word back with Alfred, as you’d asked.” Coby reached into his brigandine and withdrew a folded square.
“But thought I should encode it in the event someone nosed through my communication. But I couldn’t encode it because the
answer itself is coded. It all felt quite complicated in my mind, so I gave up and brought it to you directly. Here.”
Bram plucked the proffered note from Coby’s hand.
With trembling fingers, he opened the letter that contained his curse-breaking salvation. His eyes scanned Coby’s neat handwriting.
Once, twice, a third time.
“This can’t be correct.” He glanced at Coby. “You’re sure?”
Coby nodded. “That’s what the sprite said. I repeated it during the long walk back from the Lantern Oak. As soon as I got
back to my cot, I scribbled it down. But I can’t say I understood it.”
“What the hell does it mean?”
Coby shrugged. “I wish I knew, sir.”
His hopes fizzled and shrank. He wished freedom from this curse was as simple as bringing sugared treats to the sprite. But
if what Coby had written was accurate, Marigold must return to the Lantern Oak on his behalf. He stood by what he’d said to
her earlier—engaging with the sprite was inherently dangerous and not worth the risk to her life.
No, they would not go down that path.
Bram folded the useless note and tucked it into his breeches’ pocket.
Alas, he’d hoped for an easy solution. Marigold insisted she’d be happy with a life here at Grimroot Farm, but Rowan was right—the world would not let them be happy together if he remained an orc. An impossible situation.
“Thank you, all the same.” Now to gather intelligence from the young knight. “How goes the search for the princess?”
“Fruitless. They’ve combed Harvest Hollow from the Gildfall Mountains to the Marches and have turned up nothing. The crown
continues to tell us that Princess Marigold has taken to her bed. Prayers are requested in the cathedral during every service,
and the people have covered Brambleton Castle’s gates with well wishes and her favorite sunflowers.”
His heart ached for the good people of Harvest Hollow.
The deserved better than Prince Crispin. The popinjay was probably seething with jealousy that his people lavished the unknown
princess with attention. No, the prince was not fit to lead these compassionate folk—his plots, lies, pettiness, and the coffers
emptied for his personal benefit were more than enough evidence.
Bram pinched his nose, then stared at the byre’s roof.
He might’ve been a farmer with more personal shite to contend with than was fair, and he would love not to care about communities
beyond his borders, but he was also a trained knight devoted to the chivalric order, and this kingdom was in distress. Part
of the plot Marigold overheard involved sending her to Scarlet Spire to gain control of Thornwick’s throne.
What if Crispin had done such a thing before, to his own sister?
“Sir Coby, I’ve a thought. Princess Rosamund—has she ventured to home for the royal wedding? Or is she still languishing at
Scarlet Spire and taking the seaside air?”
“There’s no news of her traveling. I believe she’s still there.”
That tracked with Bram’s suspicions. “Then . . . I think you must undertake a quest.”
Coby raised an eyebrow. “Is it noble?”
“The most noble.” Bram clapped him on the shoulder. “Travel to Scarlet Spire and inform Princess Rosamund of what’s happening
in Harvest Hollow. Writing it down would put you in danger, but the list is this—the king is in his dotage, and the prince
spends wastefully. His taxes squeeze the people to madness. To quash dissent, he leverages the magic of a sprite. He will
not listen to advisors and keeps his own counsel. The prince’s betrothed has run away, and he’s yet to find her. For all these
reasons, it’s vital Princess Rosamund return and take her rightful place as the head of House Batten-Forge. Offer to escort
her back—her people need her.”
He left out the Thornwick murder-and-throne plot. The rest of the list should be enough to shake any sovereign out of their
convalescence.
Coby widened his eyes. “I’m to say all that? Royals don’t receive truth well.”
Bram snorted. “Trust, I’m aware. Can you do this?”
“Yes?” Coby’s gaze softened as he ran the scenario in his head. Then, with greater certainty, he said, “Yes. The Scarlet Spire
is a two-day ride. If she doesn’t have me brained on the spot for my candor, we may be back by week’s end.”
“If she’s like her brother, she’ll be quick to decide.” Bram folded his forearms. “But let’s hope she is not, in fact, like
her brother in all ways. I have faith in you, Coby.”
The lad boosted his shoulders. “I’m grateful for the vote of confidence.”
“If all goes well, you’ll be back in time for the Goldenmoon Festival, and the day will be full of nothing but merriment.”
“But what if Prince Crispin attends? He’s right vexed it’s happening, and—”
“Pardon the intrusion.” Rowan appeared at the doorway. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”
Bram squeezed his fists. The House of Ashford should swap their family crest’s unicorn for a mouse or a mule, because their silence and stubborn streaks ran as wide as his fields.
And his sudden appearance was most inconvenient.
Explaining this prince’s presence at the farm would be as easy as shoving a pumpkin through a fence knothole.
“Go away,” Bram said. “This does not involve you.”
“I’d say it does, old friend.” Rowan stepped forward, spreading his hands wide. “All I offer is help. It’ll be easier for
another royal to gain access to Scarlet Spire and Princess Rosamund than a knight.” He nodded at Coby. “No offense.”
Coby briefly bent his knee and bowed his head. “None taken. Those are facts. Prince Rowan of Thornwick, I believe?”
Annoyed as he was at Rowan’s presence, Bram was pleased with the young knight’s keen mind. The Thornwick royal family’s likenesses
had been shared in the broadsheets along with the announcement of the betrothal.
“Indeed,” Rowan said and shook Coby’s outstretched hand.
“So the princess is here, then?” Coby shifted his gaze between Rowan and Bram. “I’m glad of it. I’d worried that she’d got
lost in the Marches or, worse, the Shivering Dales.”
“She’s safe,” Bram said.
“Leaving me free to accompany you,” Rowan said to Coby. “We must relieve Crispin of his throne, and two have a greater chance
of success than one.”
Bram turned the offer in his mind, looking for the catch. “Your involvement will raise tensions between the kingdoms, possibly
the entire Lunara Peninsula.”
“Then so be it.” Rowan rested his hand on his hilt. “The threat to Thornwick, and to my family, is too great not to act.”
Bram saw Rowan in a new light. He was not just a friend—he was an ally. For so long, Bram had shouldered his plight alone, braced for the impact of another blow from fate. Since Marigold returned to him, she’d shown him that more hands make the load lighter. That he could place his trust in others.
He held Rowan’s shoulder. “For a future king, you have the spine.”
Rowan grinned. “I’m aware.”
After thumbing a tear from his eye, Bram clapped a hand on Coby’s shoulder as well. “Rowan, my oldest and dearest friend,
allow me to introduce you to Sir Coby Goodwin, who may be the truest knight of the realm. Together, we may yet save my future
and, as a side quest, save Harvest Hollow.”