Page 23 of A Match Made in Error

Faint at first. Could that be the famed kraken? Or, hopefully, another couple fighting?

Then it comes again and is unmistakable. The rhythm of something intimate from one of the neighboring bungalows.

I freeze, slowly turning my head to the open porch like maybe I imagined it.

It comes again, breathy and pleased. Nope, I did not imagine it.

Riven doesn’t even move at first. Just listens for a beat. Then, dry as anything, “Ah, they wasted absolutely no time, did they?”

A strangled noise escapes me, mortified. “Riven⁠—”

He finally shifts, dragging an arm behind his head, completely unbothered. “What? I’m impressed. The ferry is barely docked, and they’re already getting to it.” Another satisfied shriek drifts over the water. He glances to the sound, squinting slightly like he’s assessing it. “Enthusiastically, too. Good for them.”

I grab a pillow and throw it at him, but he catches it easily, grinning.

I turn away, burying my face in my hands. “I cannot believe we can hear that.”

“No doors. Open air. Bad decisions encouraged by divine matchmaking,” Riven says, still amused. “Honestly, if I were Fate, I’d be offended if we didn’t hear at least three couples before midnight.”

I peek at him, half horrified, half laughing despite myself. “Three?”

He shrugs. “Minimum.”

Then, he dares glance at me. “The Isle is doing its job already.”

“It’s like everyone can hear and see everything,” I whisper. “…We’re going to have to be careful.”

“I won’t be ashamed when I bed you, Poppy. I will be moaning as loud as I want.” I give him a deadpan look. Riven turns his head to me, something gentler slipping in under the smirk. “Careful’s not really my thing.” He sighs. “But for you?” A small shrug. “I can pretend.” He looks at the distance between us. “Though if we’re being judged on enthusiasm alone, we’re already losing spectacularly.”

I get up and pull my bag up from where Riven’s discarded it on the floor, hoping to channel my frustration into organizing for a while. An armoire with intricately etched palm fronds on the handles opens upon my approach, magically welcoming me like everything on the Island has tried to do. I fist a hanger, tugging it through the straps of a sundress aggressively.

“Couldn’t you use magic to do that?” He asks a question I need not answer. He knows the bounds of magic, especially mine. Of course I could snap my fingers and utter an incantation to have my clothes pressed and hung in the blink of an eye…but I crave the distraction of menial tasks.

His shadows spill from beneath the bed like living smoke, immediately setting to work unpacking his bags with practiced efficiency. Shirts folded into drawers. Boots lined up neatly by the wall. Toiletries marched into the bathing chamber. One shadow emerges last, cradling the small carved wooden fox worn smooth from years of restless thumbs and anxious nights. It placed the trinket carefully on the bedside table before dissolving back into darkness, and Riven's gaze snags on it for a fleeting moment before he turned away, expression unreadable save for the slight easing of tension in his shoulders.

“There's nothing else to do here. Might as well fuss with my socks.” I unfold and then refold a pair of pixie-knit house socks, obsessively making sure the seams line up before grabbing another pair and doing the same.

“We could go for a swim or play cards or watch a hologram.” He shuffles a deck of cards that his shadows subtly deposited in his hands before skittering away from the light. I consider him for a moment, the heir of a shadow fae lordship who is sunshine incarnate. Even now, in undesirable circumstances, he is glowing.

Fate, why is he glowing?

Sure, he’s always been handsome, but something about this suits him even more. The half-buttoned linens and salt-wind hair. Hopefully, the island sun is as gracious to me this month as Fate was when it crafted Riven. I’d love to get an even tan. Then, at least, I wouldn’t be walking out of the Festival with nothing.

“You heard the Moirai. There’s a kraken in these waters—no shot I’m swimming after dark, and you’d be wise to do the same.”

“That kraken is the one who should want to stay away from me.” That classic Riven wit oozes from his pores, smile twice as wicked as he actually is.

“Please, for my sake, do not cause utter chaos this month. I want to fly under the radar and get home in one piece.”

“Relax. I only cause minor chaos. Medium chaos at most.”

“Riven.” My voice is exasperated and utterly drained of all will to fight him.

“I’ll settle for only minor chaos, at your behest.” He acts as if this is a negotiation, but I lost control the moment I was thrown into the arena and then again when I agreed to this whole façade.

“Why can’t you behave for a month? I’m not asking for the moons.” I aggressively throw a pashmina onto a shelf.

“Don’t look at me like that, Pop. You know I can only behave so much in one day.”