Chapter 37
For once in his life as an orc, Bram was not running hot.
Hundreds had crossed Grimroot Farm’s threshold, sending constant shivers along his spine. The pace had slowed in the last
hour, thank the saints. Otherwise he might’ve needed a second cloak.
The minstrels played a lively song, the lyrics just skirting the edge of bawdy. Many a Hollower kicked up their feet and danced
in the meadow. As Marigold threaded through the crowd toward him, the music shifted to a different beat. Instinctively, the
crowd split into lines to begin the Sway.
She grabbed his hand. “Shall we show them how it’s done?”
His grip tightened around hers. “We shall, so long as you remember your left from right.”
She bumped her shoulder to his biceps. “Ha ha. Keep a tight grip on me? With this headwrap, an ox could be charging at me
and I wouldn’t know. But at least I’m demure.”
The music began in earnest, and Bram led her through the steps.
Saints, he’d forgotten how much fun dancing within a crowd could be, the infectious nature of joy.
The dance lines shifted and curved, and now they were dancing in circles wrapped round each other.
He held hands with Marigold on one side and Beatrix Brumet, the bookseller’s daughter, on the other.
As Bram, he’d purchased many a book from her father to keep his mind occupied while away from Marigold, but tonight was the first time she’d met Jask.
As the minstrels sped up the tune, the circle gallivanted faster, until it was time for the final turn, kick, and lift. In
the center of the field, Bram lifted Marigold into the air. The setting sun lit her with its bold streaks of crimson and orange.
Her smile, which was all for him, outshone twilight’s pageantry.
The seconds stretched like a century. He wanted to hold on to this bright feeling forever. And, depending on what she said
about the ring in his pocket, he might just be able to. As the crowd’s applause exploded, Bram lowered Marigold, savoring
the slide of her body against his. Yes, after the crowds dispersed tonight, he would ask his princess to be his bride.
Above him, a falcon screamed.
The scarlet jesses streaming behind signaled the raptor was one of Garrick’s. The brief joy he’d felt in the dance curled
inward like the petals of a fading chrysanthemum.
Grim determination took its place.
“We must go.” If Sir Kevin or any other knight wanted to whisk Marigold away, they’d have to go through him first. “You need
to hide. Sir Kevin approaches.”
“When?”
He pointed at the circling falcon. “Soon.”
She followed his gaze. “How does a falcon herald Kevin’s arrival?”
“I struck a bargain with the royal falconer.”
“I have many questions.” She raised herself onto her toes and kissed him. “But I won’t scurry into the dark, Bram. I prefer
to walk in the sun.”
“It’s twilight.”
“I didn’t mean literally.” She clasped his biceps.
“I am a princess, which comes with privileges and authority. Kevin is not, in fact, the boss of us. And I have magical gifts, which grants me power beyond laws and protocols. Before my time here, I didn’t have the confidence to carve my own path. Now I do.”
This stubborn, beautiful woman.
“Was it the baking or the laundry that boosted your confidence?”
“’Twas the butter. If I can churn cream into golden deliciousness, I can do anything, including facing down the prince’s thug.”
Marigold’s eyes searched the crowd. “Where is he?”
“He’s not here yet—the falcon was a warning.”
The lute player cupped his hands around his mouth. “We’re taking a brief break. After we enjoy a pint of Elenor’s finest,
we’ll return with plenty of vigor!”
With a smattering of applause, half the crowd drifted toward Elenor’s beer garden with the minstrels. A flourish of trumpets
split the air, startling him. Whispers rose among those who remained in the meadow. Courtesy of his height, Bram had a clear
view of the heralded arrival.
Their newest guests turned his stomach to stone.
Prince Crispin and his personal guard had arrived. Accompanying him were King Matthias and Queen Elowen of Thornwick—Marigold’s
parents. Trailing just behind them was Bess, Marigold’s lady’s companion.
“Marigold, they’re here.” His breath came fast as he tugged her toward the cottage. Beside the pile of quarried fieldstones,
he paused. Here, they were alone. “Crispin, his privy circle of knights, your parents, and Bess. Run. Shrink. I’ll keep them
busy.”
“But in order for us to remain together—”
He held her face. “I adore your optimism that they’ll support our love match.
They may, but this is not the time nor the place.
Rowan’s right. Marrying a commoner orc is unthinkable.
Crispin will make a meal of this, delight in making a big show of how much they approve of him before we can tell them the truth of his plot.
They cannot discover you with him orchestrating the conversation.
’Tis simply your word against his, and so I say again: Run, Princess. ”
Marigold furrowed her brow. “But—”
“It’s not your parents you should worry about,” a low, thick voice said.
Bram shielded Marigold’s body from Kevin’s brutish gaze. Blood and bones, no evidence of a soul danced in the eyes of Crispin’s
man-at-arms.
“You’ll come with me, Princess.” Kevin drummed his sausage-like fingers against his sword’s hilt. “I’ve a gentle way or an
ugly way—choose.”
From behind Bram, she said, “I choose neither.”
Marigold squeezed his hand twice, then let go. Behind his back, Marigold’s body heat fizzed, then disappeared as she shrank
herself.
Bram clutched a pumpkin-sized stone. “Looks like it’s the ugly way.”
“A poor choice.” Kevin slipped his sword from its scabbard. “I told Crispin we should’ve killed you that night years ago.
After I dissect you, I’ll inform the crowd you kidnapped the princess and enslaved her on this farm since the first banns
were read in the cathedral.”
“I’ve done no such thing,” Bram growled.
Cold mirth lit the knight’s eyes. “And who will they believe, orc? Me or a monster?”
“Monster or not, they’re my friends, so I’d bet on me.”
Bram gestured to the happy lantern-lit faces. Matilda walked by with her exhausted boy wrapped in her arms. Elenor clinked tankards with Brother Oswald. Beyond the beer garden, Alfred gave children hayrides toward the orchard. And there, by the pumpkin carving tables, Beatrix chatted with Coby.
Coby! Bram searched the crowd for Rowan and Princess Rosamund. If the young knight was here, did that mean they’d succeeded in their
mission? With Marigold safely on the run, they could strike the flint on the plan to unseat Crispin with the rightful heir,
his sister.
Kevin bellowed with laughter. “You’re a fool. The day men believe orcs before knights is the day pigs wear crowns.”
“That can be arranged, oaf.” Bram hurled the stone at Kevin. It exploded against the maple tree behind the knight. “Leave.
I won’t miss a second time.”
“Enough.” Kevin charged him.
Bram easily dodged the man-at-arms. Points to the orc’s body for its speed as well as its strength. Behind him, Kevin met
nothing but air.
“Where did she—”
Barnaby, ever the broken clock, drowned out the knight with a heart-stopping shout.
“Tell me where she is,” Kevin snarled.
A familiar huff-huff-huff came around the corner. Clever woman. Marigold must’ve opened Paloma’s gate. The pig locked onto Kevin, then scraped a hoof
against the flagstones and lowered her head. A challenge.
“Call off your pig,” Kevin said. “Fight honorably.”
“A lost cause with you as an opponent.” Bram hefted another rock. “Paloma, fetch him.”
In a clattering flurry of hooves, Paloma rushed Kevin. She collided with his legs as Bram’s rock thumped against his chest.
The simultaneous blows knocked Kevin from his feet. With his blood pumping, Bram scrambled toward the downed knight.
One kick sent his sword spinning across the courtyard.
Bram lifted Kevin by his pauldrons, then lifted him into the air.
Oh, the sprite had indeed done him a service in granting him this form.
For all the times the orc’s body had felt like he was wearing ill-fitting garb, today he delighted in the fear its speed and strength struck in this small-spirited man’s eyes.
“What’s the matter, Kevin? Afraid I’ll treat you the way you’ve treated me?”
Kevin’s nostrils flared. “What do you want? Set me down and name your price.”
Bram gritted his teeth, his under tusks aching to know what it felt like to go for the thick pulsing vein in Kevin’s neck.
Since his true love arrived on his doorstep, he’d achieved his heart’s desire. Withal, he had but one regret.
“I want the time I missed with Marigold back, you wretched cur.”
With superhuman restraint, he twisted Kevin ’round, then squeezed his thick green arm around the knight’s neck until he collapsed
like a marionette with cut strings. Alive, but no longer a threat.
Unlike Crispin and the autumn sprite under his control.
“Coby!” he bellowed. “I’ve need of you!”