Page 93 of A Match Made in Error

Riven’s hands tighten around mine, and for a moment I fear the worst. He hates being lied to and detests being deceived even more. Will he lash his shadows out? Throw a few punches? Get us banned from the Commonwealth and force us to beg the shadowland of Ombra to allow us refuge there?

“Thank you,” Riven says, stealing the breath from my lungs. His voice is grounded and filled with earnest emotions. “I don’t know how long it would have taken unless you intervened.” The other contestants laugh, and I lean in, wrapping my free hand around his bicep and kissing it.

“Some souls do not find each other the first time,” the Crone agrees.

“Or the third,” someone in the group yells, sending another wave of laughter around the beach.

“Some must break or rebel,” the Mother adds.

“And some must see what they stand to lose if they keep running.” The Maiden’s final words hit home, right in my soul where Riven’s blood bond rests.

“I felt like I’d been forsaken by Fate,” I admit, voice cracking. “All those years of being forgotten.” I swallow down the emotion. “They were worth it though.” I look up at Riven, from freckled skin to golden-hued eyes.

“You were never forgotten, child. We were simply preparing him. The most stubborn contestant of all.” She gestures to the other matches. “Each of you has a special, unique connection.” I look across the crowd, and the interlaced fingers and heads resting on shoulders. Somehow, for the first time in decades, it seems every match is in harmony. “But this one, we’ve toiled for.”

“Right person, wrong time,” the Maiden says, looking at Riven. “Until now.”

“Why didn’t you just tell us?” Riven asks, the soft sea breeze blowing his hair. “Or force me to see reason?” Years of one-night stands and riotous behavior flash in his eyes. “She shouldn’t have had to suffer because I was an idiot.”

“We cannot force,” the Maiden answers as if it’s obvious. “Only nudge.”

“Your nudging sometimes felt a lot like being stabbed repeatedly with a knife,” Riven retorts dryly.

“And yet…” the Crone smirks. “It still took you three years to see it.” Another round of laughter at Riven’s expense, but in the mirth, the Crone’s eyes narrow. She studies him, from joined hands to the place above his heart, where I can see his sigil shimmering.

“You rushed what should be Fate’s call.” Silence falls. “A blood-bound oath.” A beat, silence settling around us like death. Pain smarts my molars as I grind my back teeth together. “You may have received a soulbond…had you waited.” Silence once more turns to whispers as the other matches speculate about what this will mean.

Riven doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t second-guess. “I couldn’t risk it.”

The Moirai exchange a look. It’s not quite angry—though sometimes it’s hard to tell—but it definitely doesn’t seem approving either. Maybe…intrigued? Sweat slicks my palms, and I can feel the slight tremor in Riven’s normally steady hand. Will they banish us? Curse us?

Threads of light begin to shimmer around us. My eyes close, a flinch shuttering my body in anticipation of the Moirai’s fury. “Fate may have guided them,” the Crones voice shakes. “But this—this was a choice. Their choice.” Like a judge endorsing a document, she decrees, “Fate approves!” and the cheers begin. “A celebration is in order. You all should enjoy your last week here as a true vacation.” And her snap sends them all into stark white light once more.

Chapter Thirty-Three

RIVEN

Though it was only just morning, it now looks as if twilight is slipping into night. Hopefully, the Moirai magic is altering reality and not stealing time. Now that my eyes have been opened to Poppy, I don’t want to lose a single second with her.

Long wooden tables are set on the sand. Glowing lanterns line the perimeter, and a massive bonfire crackles in the distance right by the shoreline. Servers wait in the wings, trays with umbrellaed drinks waiting to be handed to us. I wonder if they ever get a break from this insanity.

The ocean rolls in slow rhythmic waves beyond the party, matching energy with the contestants filtering past me. The music, some kind of wild drumming, calls couples to dance at the center of the party.

This whole thing mirrors our first couple of days here perfectly. Even Poppy standing beside me, hand in mine.

But this time: no pretending, no distance, no tension.

The island may not be different, nor are the Moirai, but we are.

My fingers tighten around hers.

Thank Fate for that.

We break apart, reluctantly, when servers bring us drinks and hang back as the rest of the matches move deeper into the party.

Poppy walks with me on the beach, her body casually bumping mine with a shy smile on her lips.

“I don’t know what you’re being coy for.” My hand finds hers again without thinking. “You’ve already seen what Fate bestowed me.” The warmth of her palm in mine is grounding against the loud party and cool sea breeze.