Three Festivals Ago #2
Riven shifts his weight, arms folding like armor. “I also learned that comfort can be more dangerous than war,” he says lightly. “War you see coming. Comfort sneaks up on you.” He smirks for the crowd, but his jaw is tight.
He exhales through his nose and uses a laugh to cover the softer emotion hiding there.
“I didn’t expect her to be the kind of person I could stay up talking with. About nothing. Or everything. Whatever.” He waves a hand as though dismissing his own words. “Didn’t even have that kind of intimacy with my fellow soldiers in the barracks and they saw my di-”
The Mother snaps her fingers, closing his mouth with her magic. “Language. There are children present.” Behind magically closed lips, Riven snickers, and my cheeks warm to a nearly uncomfortable degree.
Another snap, and he finishes his thought. “She surprised me, is all. In a good way.”
The Maiden beams, finding his answers hopefully romantic.
“And you, witch?” the Crone asks, her seemingly all-knowing eyes passing over me.
I smooth my palms over my skirt, grounding myself. My heart thrums too fast. Stupid, given that this match is ending, not beginning.
“One truth?” I echo. “I didn’t expect to learn that not every match is meant to be a love story.
Sometimes…” I glance at Riven, his cocky smile deepening my blush despite our platonic bond.
“Sometimes, the person you’re paired with is meant to be a friend.
A real one. And that kind of bond can matter just as much as the sweep-you-off-your-feet kind.
” A ripple of shocked murmurs travels through the crowd.
I add, gentler still, “Platonic love surprised me. How strong it can feel. How safe.” My voice dips. “I didn’t know I needed that.”
After the audience settles some and Riven grips my hand so tight I feel like his knuckles must be whitening, I continue.
“One truth I didn’t expect,” I say softly, “is that a bond doesn’t have to be romantic to matter.
That friendship can be deep and loyal and…
enough.” My eyes flick to Riven, finding him smiling down at me with care in his eyes.
“Maybe even more than enough.” What I don’t say is the soliloquy playing in my mind like a love sonnet as I look into his golden eyes.
I didn’t expect you. Didn’t expect the way I’d like your laugh, your stupid jokes, the way you look at me like I’m the only one who makes sense in a room full of noise.
Didn’t expect to feel a spark with someone who doesn’t want to be kept.
So I’ll call it friendship. I’ll call it enough.
Even if there’s a tiny, traitorous part of me that wishes this ceremony could have gone differently.
“So what do you want from this match?” The Maiden’s sharp tone earns her a smack on the hand from the Crone.
“We want to remain friends,” I answer swiftly before my tongue betrays me. Friends. We’re friends.
Beside me, Riven’s smile falters for the first time all ceremony. His jaw ticks, just barely. He shifts his weight, hand flexing at his side like he wants to reach for something but can’t. Or won’t.
I keep my gaze trained forward, pretending not to notice the way his breath leaves him sharply. From the corner of my eye, I see a muscle jump in his cheek.
He clears his throat, offering a quip to the crowd.
“Well, she is the wise one between us.” The Moirai smile.
The audience laughs. And I bite the inside of my cheek when he releases my hand.
“I’m not ready to settle down.” He raises his arm, hand rubbing the back of his neck in a charmingly nervous gesture.
“And she deserves a prince, not a retired soldier who slings ale.” Another laugh from the crowd as he tells his self-deprecating joke.
I’d hardly refer to his upscale bar, where drinks can cost up to a gold piece, a place where one slings ale, but I’m new to bartending, so who knows.
“Well,” the Crone begins. “Poppy, if you still yearn for love this time next year, we welcome you to re-enter the Festival of Fates.” My heart flutters.
A new beginning. The sense that Fate isn’t done with me yet fills my chest and settles into the cracks that years of being overlooked and not chosen have created.
“Next couple.” And just like that, our time in the Festival has ended.
I’d expected more pomp and circumstance if I’m being honest.
The couple after us doesn’t roll an eighteen.
Her wail is heartbreaking, and the silent tear that rolls down his face says it all.
It feels cruel that Riven and I rolled what they desire and chose to walk away from it.
Without an eighteen or higher, the Moirai will not bind their souls.
Their die has come up short, a respectable seventeen that is so close but not enough.
It only earns them polite applause and nothing more—until the male steps forward, slicing his palm without flinching, and presses the blood-slicked cut to his match’s trembling hand.
He whispers a vow older than the Festival itself, a binding spell spoken only by those willing to wager their lives.
Not a soulbond, but enough that betrayal would mean death.
A death swift and absolute. The magic flares, fierce and gold, and the woman laughs through tears as the crowd gasps.
I feel my throat tighten, eyes burning. I tell myself it is beautiful—tell myself I am happy for them—but what I really want, achingly so, is someone who would choose me like that. Someone who wouldn’t wait for Fate to decide whether I am worth keeping.
Riven nudges my shoulder gently, pulling me from my wet-eyed gaze at the now-kissing couple, and offers his hand once more for me to hold as we descend the stairs from the stage and venture into the world.
“Friends,” he repeats, like a promise. “I’ve got your back if you’ve got mine.
” Once more, he drops my hand and turns to face me.
When he holds out his hand this time, it's positioned like he wants to lock arms, as his brothers-in-arms did in the war.
I nod, swallowing down emotion, and press my arm to his, wrapping my fingers as tightly around his veiny muscles as I can. “Friends,” I say back.
“Let’s get you back to the bar then—you’ve got a new apartment to decorate.” He slings his arm around my shoulder, tucking me protectively against his side as we push through the nearly feral crowd.
As we make our way to the outskirts of town, a small smile lifts the corners of my lips. The Moirai gave me hope. I know that my real love story hasn’t even started yet, and I will allow that to be as exciting as it is terrifying.