Heather and Jenny are departing soon to spend a whole month in Europe, country-hopping and sightseeing.
I agree with Root. I’m going to miss my best friend.
The bride’s expression softens, but then I spot the spark of mischief again. “I’ll miss you too. But we’ll send pictures every day. And I expect a play-by-play of how Blossom does as Pumpkin Princess.”
The witch in green stills at her sister’s words, and my heart stutters.
Blossom is going to be the Pumpkin Princess this year? She’s competing in the Pumpkin Wars?
The silly-sounding event was invented years ago by Root. The wood witch owns the most popular pumpkin patch in Folk Haven, and when Heather and I became friends, he decided to ring in the season by setting up a series of games for us to play against each other. Apparently, it was an attempt to burn off some of our endless kid energy.
He called it the Pumpkin Wars with Heather as Pumpkin Princess and me as Pumpkin Prince. Whoever won was the Pumpkin Queen or Pumpkin King for the year.
What started as a silly activity has grown into a full-blown, widely attended event in the Folk Haven mythical creature community. Mainly witches and wolves show up—the former rooting for Heather, the latter cheering for me. I didn’t consider how Heather’s honeymoon would have her gone for this year’s event. Root always holds the Pumpkin Wars the last weekend in September to mark the opening of his pumpkin patch for customers.
Blossom has never competed.
As far as I know, she’s never asked to. Root always gave his younger daughter special duties for the competition, but it was only ever just Heather and me battling it out.
“What?” Blossom croaks the question.
“You didn’t tell her, Papa?” Heather asks, blinking her long-lashed eyes innocently.
Root wears his normal, pleasant, relaxed expression that gives nothing away. “Not yet.”
“I can’t.” The youngest Fernmore shakes her head so hard that some of the flowers in her hair fall out. “I-I don’t live here. And everyone is expectingyou.”
Heather scoffs. “It’s only one weekend. And they don’t care who the princess is. Everyone is expecting a fun time. A good show. Witch versus wolf.” Heather clutches her sister’s wrist and lets her gaze go soft and pleading. “Come on. You have to do it. The Pumpkin Wars is one of Papa’s best business days. You want the patch to do well, don’t you?”
I press my knuckles against my lips to hide a smirk. Heather will do anything to win, and that means playing on her sister’s hidden heartstrings.
Blossom throws a wide-eyed glance her father’s way, but the wood witch merely offers a gentle smile.
“Could really use your help this year, Blossom. If it’s not too much trouble. Don’t want your sister feeling bad when she and Jenny are away.”
Oh gods, the guilt trip is piling on from both sides, and I love it.
Because I’ll take anything that requires Blossom to interact with me.
My friend’s words from the dance floor replay in my head.“Things are in motion. You just need to go with it. This might be your one shot.”
Is this what Heather meant?
The witch bride meets my eyes and gives the subtlest of nods.
I scoop up the gauntlet but take a different tactic. “Guys, don’t pressure her.” I keep my voice smooth, as if I don’t care about the outcome of this conversation. “If Blossom doesn’t want to embarrass herself in front of half the town by losing to me, then that’s understandable. We can figure something else out.”
The scowl she throws my way could peel bark off a tree.
“I’m in,” she snaps.
Success.
The younger witch mutters something about getting food and slips away from our group, and soon after, Heather sprints off to her mate’s side. For the rest of the evening, I enjoy the festivities, keeping my distance from Blossom so I don’t accidentally ruin my turn of good luck.
But she’s always in my eyeline.
When I spy the little wood witch kissing her sister on the cheek, then grabbing her purse, I make my move.
