Chapter Four #4
My eyes roll, and my mouth opens to rebuke the ridiculous idea, but he straightens, unfazed and ready to defend his idea before I even shoot it down.
“Oh, I know, I know. We could just be polite. Do the challenges. Smile like good little contestants and avoid the curse.” His gaze darkens, voice dropping.
“But Fate dragged you back onto that stage without your consent. That deserves consequences.” He tilts his head, mock-thoughtful.
“Riven, what would that accomplish besides getting us cursed for seven years if we’re caught?
As much as I hate Fate right now, I think this is something best dealt with gracefully.
” Though playing in their face and messing with their game sounds fun.
“What about Angora?” I ask, and he just shrugs carelessly.
“She should get to see what she’s lost.” He gestures to himself.
“We’ll fake it…loudly. Obnoxiously. Make a mockery of their precious Festival while we’re at it and save my reputation as the man everybody wants.
” His grin turns sharp. “And if Angora doesn’t choke on jealousy, I’ll be shocked.
” Then, quieter, he adds, “You don’t owe Fate grace, Pop. Let me help you misbehave for once.”
As much as I hate to admit it, the mischievous glint in his eyes has me feeling something other than panic and fear for the first time since I was pulled into the matching arena.
Why shouldn’t we have a little fun with it?
They did this to us. Why should we suffer when we can make this fun?
And there’s no expressed rule about faking affection… maybe this is the loophole we needed.
My eyes pass over Riven, from impish grin to rippling muscles.
I trust him. Far more than I trust Fate, and fake dating him, having the realm see his affection for me, feels better than another year of being the loser everyone thinks nobody wants.
Plus, unlike the previous years, I know I won’t be heartbroken after this one.
“Just to stick it to Fate?” I ask hesitantly.
His grin widens, eyes sparking with the quiet triumph of a man who’s successfully talked his best friend into something reckless and is enjoying it far too much.
The expression of someone who knows exactly how much trouble this will cause and can’t wait to watch it unfold.
His eyes flick between mine, warm and wicked all at once, like he’s not just corrupting me, but welcoming me into a very exclusive, very ill-advised club.
“Yeah.” He nods. “If Fate’s going to drag you into this, it will have to deal with me in the process, and I’ve been told I’m one devious bastard. ”
My panic ebbs away, a smile making its way onto my suddenly chapped lips. I put my hand out for him to shake. “Here’s to sticking it to Fate.” Following the rules has gotten me nothing and nowhere. At least this time, the Festival might be fun.
His palm is warm in mine, calluses scratching against my smooth skin. “Here’s to...”—his eyes drift up as he searches for the right words—“making Fate choke on its own theatrics.” I snort. His eyes twinkle with mirth. “Too much?”
“Maybe a little.” We turn, his arm slinging casually over my shoulders as we move back to the backstage area to receive our next instructions.
“What about, to being a problem on purpose?” His head tilts, resting on mine as I consider his words, watching a little swirl of leaves dance across the cobblestones in front of us.
“Better, but not quite there yet,” I encourage him. What? He is a lot of things, as he’s well stated, and entertaining is one of them.
“Oh, what about, to you trusting me to catch you when you fall?” My heart tightens because it’s true.
Riven has been there for me through bad breakups, worse haircuts, the exploding cauldron incident, literally catching me midair today, and more.
We’ve had slumber parties, Solstice celebrations, knife-throwing lessons, and I know without a doubt that if no one in the realm has my back, that means Riven is dead.
“I like that.”
“Hells yeah.” He snaps his free hand enthusiastically and rights his head. “Riven and Poppy, sticking it to Fate, taking the edge off your panic, and stealing a little joy back while we’re at it.”
When we step behind the stage once more, we see the Moirai conferring in low, ominous tones.
My foot presses into a crunchy leaf, and the sound of shattering foliage draws their attention. Their eyes snap up in unison, shoulders relaxing as if they feared we’d run off after the spectacle they’d made of us. “There you are,” the Maiden bustles. “We were about to send out a search party.”
The Mother steps forward, her voice carrying easily over the chaos outside, calm and absolute.
“You are granted this night to settle your affairs,” she intones.
“Say your goodbyes. Leave your messages. The life you know pauses here.” Her gaze flicks between us, measured.
“At first light, your assigned handler will arrive at Poppy’s residence to escort you to the Isle of Fate.
All necessities will be provided—shelter, sustenance, and tools for the trials.
” A faint, knowing smile touches her lips.
“You may each bring one bag, as conjuring items from off the Isle will not be possible.” My heart nearly stops.
A month of no conjuring what I need? “Choose wisely. Some comforts are worth their weight in magic.” The staff taps the stone once.
“Rest tonight, for tomorrow, Fate takes custody.” She snaps her fingers, and that pesky golden ring of magic dances around us, tightening, tightening, tightening until I know binding magic has been sealed around Riven and me.
Magic that will pull us together if we stray and burn if we deny our match.
Riven brushes his lips against my ear, murmuring though the Moirai are walking away from us. “Looks like you’re stuck with me now.”
“I already was.” I breathe, unsteady once again, spine stiff under his casual arm. “Is this a mistake?”
He looks down at me, and all I can think is that this isn’t how it was supposed to be.
He is supposed to be with Angora, and I was supposed to be with someone years ago, who looked at me similarly to how Riven is now, but more earnestly and tinted with romance instead of friendship.
Like he was choosing me and was more than happy to do so.
None of this is fair.
Riven smiles. “If it’s a mistake, it’s of the best kind.”