Page 62 of A Match Made in Error

Two chairs per table.

Too many tables.

The wind lifts the edge of a napkin and blows delicately enough on the crystal glassware that it starts to chime softly.

Riven guides me to a nearby bench just outside the dining room, resting a hand lightly on my back. I inhale sharply. This is the version of him that knows how to perform in public, and it resurfaces so easily.

“For what it’s worth,” he murmurs low enough that it almost feels private, “if this ends with polite conversation and fruit salad, I’m filing a complaint.” He helps settle me into the seat, and I force a light chuckle.

“Can we join you?” Aoife asks, Noah lingering behind her with two steaming mugs balanced carefully in his hands.

“Of course!” I scoot over on the long, cushioned bench beside Riven, the ocean breeze drifting through, rattling the hanging shell garlands overhead. Somewhere down the beach, waves crash softly against the shore, lazy beneath the morning sun.

Noah settles into the bench with a grateful sigh while Aoife immediately curls herself against his side like she belongs there.

Disgustingly adorable.

“So,” Riven asks, stirring honey into the tea Noah had handed me, “how was your time with Erik last night?” Noah had stopped by to invite Riven for a drink, but I think he was too drained from the trial to even consider it.

Noah snorts. Actually snorts into his coffee. “Lord Blowhard?”

Riven nearly chokes on his drink beside me, coughing into his fist while I laugh and lean in to speak to Aoife conspiratorially. “I see what you like about him.”

Aoife beams at Noah like he personally hung the stars over the island.

Fate. They’re nauseating.

Then the realization strikes me, and I whip to Riven. “Wait. Erik was invited?” Shocking, honestly. I can’t see Noah liking him at all.

“He heard me invite Riven. He was walking by as I left your bungalow.”

“My shadows heard the whole thing.” Riven lifts the mug lazily, sunlight catching the gold in his hair. “Sorry for abandoning you to his pompous ass. Feels cruel, in hindsight.”

“The apology is appreciated,” Noah says solemnly. “I survived, but barely.”

Aoife rolls her eyes fondly. “He spent the entire evening talking about his family estates and noble bloodline, which would almost be impressive if he hadn’t picked someone who studies the peerage for fun.”

Noah grins over the rim of his mug, eyes glittering with mischief. “His family hasn’t held meaningful influence in decades. Their manor house is practically collapsing into a beet field somewhere north of Brim Hollow.”

I blink. “You’re joking.”

“Oh, no,” Noah says with alarming delight. “They’re technically nobles, but wealthy? Fate, no. Their estate is in the middle of a farming village so remote, I’m fairly sure the cows outrank the townspeople.”

My hand flies to my mouth to muffle a laugh.

“And he’s here acting like he owns half the realm?” Riven asks beside me, voice threaded with disbelief.

“Apparently,” Noah says dryly. “Honestly, I almost admire the commitment to the performance. I assume the lavish townhouse he mentioned is rented, but eventually, the illusion has to crack.”

A laugh escapes Riven, low and surprised, but when I glance at him, something in his expression shifts.

Not smugness.

Not satisfaction.

Something quieter.

For a moment, his gaze drifts toward the sea, honey-gold eyes distant beneath the sunlight. There was a time he would’ve enjoyed hearing this. I know there was. Angora hurt him more deeply than he lets anyone realize, and some bruises leave bitterness behind long after the pain fades.