Page 91 of A Match Made in Error

There is no version of this world where I let anything happen to her. No future where I don’t choose her. No end where I walk away. Even if she wakes up tomorrow and realizes she’s made a terrible mistake in loving me, I’ll still be here. Forever.

Fate, I hope I don’t mess this up. A heavy sigh releases from between my lips. But I’ve ruined less important things with significantly less effort.

I pull my gaze from Poppy’s taut, sun-kissed skin and eye the entrance to the spring. It’s dark, a palm-frond-covered entrance hiding us from the world, even if magic would let them in. I wonder if the Moirai have vanquished the pirates yet. Or if they still exist, out for blood.

Maybe I should feel bad for not helping the others. My eyes fall back to Poppy. She is safe, and that’s all that matters. Plus, almost every other contestant on this island is blessed with some kind of magic. I have no doubt they all fared well without my help.

Regardless, it’s a problem for the morning.

I press a quiet kiss to her temple and pull her in. I settle in, letting myself relax to the sound of her breathing and the crackling fire. For now, everything important to me is safe and contained. I don’t think I’ve ever been so relaxed.

I solemnly swear that whatever comes next—Fate’s righteous indignation or my own spectacular ability to ruin things—I’m never letting her go.

Chapter Thirty-One

THE MOIRAI

Earlier that night. Before the pirate attack.

The looms move rapidly, showing that the thread of control did not snap within Riven despite the self-revelatory power of the truth serum.

“It is time for more drastic measures.” The Crone hates lies, and Riven has been lying to himself for too long at the cost of another’s soul. Fate whispers from beyond in a tongue only the Moirai can decipher. “An illusion, yes, that will do it. But they will not know.”

The Mother hesitates, her fingers pausing as the image becomes clear in the fabric before her. “This will hurt him.”

The Maiden speaks up, ever hoping to ingratiate herself to both Fate and the older Moirai. “But it will reveal what the truth serum did not.”

The tone in the Moirai’s mountain home is cold and reverent. Unapologetic in method as long as the will of Fate is followed.

“They will survive it. All the matches will.” The Crone waves her hand, and a flash echoes in the sky. Storm clouds roll in, and the firing of a cannon on the distant sea responds.

“Fate does not test the unready, but sometimes, the unwilling fall in Fate’s crosshairs.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

POPPY

Back in the Sacred Spring

Consciousness starts to pull at me as my brain rests in the state halfway between sleep and consciousness. The fire is no longer crackling as it was when I fell asleep, but I can still smell the ozonic scent of warm water wafting from the spring.

I stir slightly, pressing into the warm body under me. My head rises, a steady rise and fall, moving with Riven’s breaths. His arm is wrapped around me, protecting me even in his rest.

Riven.

I’m lying on Riven’s chest.

It all comes back to me in a rush, stealing the breath from my lungs. The pirate attack. Riven’s confession. The blood oath. Riven wants me. Riven chose me. Heat flushes my cheeks as the two parts of my brain war: the side that has fallen in love with him this month vs. the part that no longer trusts love entirely.

I slowly blink my eyes open. The steam from the spring is thinner now in the warmer morning air, drifting lazily around Riven’s shadows that hover above it like a curious storm cloud. I inhale deeply, though my heart is racing, letting the faint salty scent of the sea calm me. I shift against him, considering getting up to conjure clothing for my body, which I’m suddenly remembering is entirely naked.

“Careful,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep. “If you sneak away, I’m going to think you regret our night together.” Wakes up, and the first words out of his mouth are flirty and mocking. Classic Riven. It’s probably good he woke up, because knowing me, I was likely only moments away from spiraling. My throat tightens when he pushes up and looks me up and down with hunger. Maybe the panic isn’t fully gone, actually.

“Don’t do that.” He clicks his tongue in disapproval and pokes the space between my furrowed brows.

“Do what?” I deflect, but I can hear the nervousness in my voice. I should trust him. Want to trust him. He did a death-binding blood oath for coven’s sake, and yet I fear what would happen if I gave him my heart and this ended. I survived losing Rodrick, but I don’t think I can survive losing Riven.

“That thing where you start overthinking and decide I’ve ruined your life.” I laugh nervously, snapping my fingers and conjuring clothing on both our bodies so I can have this conversation at least physically concealed, if not emotionally. “You confessed first, just to be clear,” he adds with a smirk. “I’m the victim here.” The lightness of his voice is disarming. As is the visual shimmer of his blood oath over his heart.