Chapter Twelve
RIVEN
The applause hits first. Then the cheers. And then the Moirai’s voice, cutting through it all.
Perfect.
I roll my shoulders, drag a hand through my wet hair, and let the noise anchor me back in my body. Back in control. Back in the version of myself that knows how to perform.
Poppy’s still looking at me like I just rewrote the laws of magic. Like something meant something.
It didn’t.
It was good timing.
Good acting.
Good instincts.
We sold it, and they’re all eating out of the palms of our hands and begging for more.
We can see a hologram of the audience in Fate’s Fortune, sitting in the arena, cheering our names.
The eldest Moirai lifts her staff again, eyes glinting. “One more round,” she announces. “Final pairing. Highest heart rate spike wins, or first fall loses. Whichever comes first.”
And of course, we’re against Angora and her perfect, glowing, infuriatingly tall new match, Lord Erik.
I glance at Poppy, giving her my easiest grin. The one that I know she knows says, we’ve got this, not, you almost undid me in front of the entire realm, like everyone else likely thinks it does.
“What we just did,” I whisper. “Flawless practice. The crowd loved it. You’re committing to the bit beautifully, by the way.” Poppy rolls her eyes, but her cheeks pink anyway, and Fate help me—that might be the most entertaining thing I’ve seen all week.
This is fake. Obviously.
A performance.
A very convincing, occasionally distracting performance.
Though neither of our bodies seem interested in that distinction. Not when we’re tangled around one another, and certainly not when she’s looking at me like she was on that stump
Probably just adrenaline.
Or the island’s aggressively romantic atmosphere poisoning our brains. Moirai magic at work against our wills.
She blinks. “The bit?”
“Faking it,” I remind her gently, like she didn’t just look like she forgot how to breathe two minutes ago while forcing herself to stare at me in awe.
“Performance. Strategy. Mild emotional manipulation. Fate, you’re amazing.
” The whole thing about not feeling seen, I thought it was real for a moment, but then I saw her watching the heart rate monitor.
Poppy is so much cleverer than I thought.
It had me second-guessing things there for a moment.
Of course she doesn’t feel that way. She’s stunning and incredible and too good for any man here.
We step back into the waves, water sloshing around our calves, bracelets glowing again as we make our way to the rock platforms just offshore.
Lock in.
Win the challenge.
I’ll let the physical sensations wash over me—her heat, the closeness, the way she’ll look at me to sell it.
I can use it. Channel it. Let the energy sharpen me.
This is just another round.
And we are clearly very good at pretending.
Pros at this now, we easily settle on the stump in the same position we were in before. Why fix it if it isn’t broken? We’re so in sync, we don’t even have to speak as we climb up and she gets settled into my arms.
Wonder how Angora and her lord are doing? I snort and turn my head, expecting to see her rolling her eyes and telling him off for messing up her hair or something.
Her face is in his neck—she wouldn’t be so mad that she’d be biting him…would she? Her head is rearing back now. She’s not going to headbutt him, is she? No, she’s crying. See. I knew she wouldn’t be enamored with him long.
Wait.
Is she laughing?
She isn’t biting him; she is nuzzling him and, Fate help us all, she is licking him. She was as frigid as a Foxhole-stamped cube of ice when she was with me, and now she is…giggling? With him? The other matches are oohing and awwing. The Moirai smile as they watch them grope one another.
I need to step it up. They cannot be the most desirable couple here. I won’t allow it.
“Just for the record,” I say lightly, “this is the part where I pretend you’re mine and forget it’s a lie.”
“What?” Poppy asks, but it’s too late to answer; I’m already acting.
“Careful, love,” I say loud enough for others to hear, but quiet enough that it feels private, “you can’t keep looking at me like that in public, or I’ll start acting like we’re alone.
” I turn my lip to her ear once I’m sure I have their attention.
“Hold still,” I murmur. “I need them to believe you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Smile like you actually like me, sweetheart.
The realm’s watching, and I’ve got a reputation to uphold.
” I nuzzle into her neck, nipping at the soft skin that smells like vanilla and bad decisions covered in coconut sunscreen.
“Tell me to stop if you need me to.” I know me, and I’m sure I’ll take it too far if allowed.
“What are you doing?” Poppy hisses through a smile.
“Trying to win.”
“That’s dumb.” Even in her annoyance with me, she sounds the part.
“We should kiss,” I insist. “That will really sell it.”
She scoffs. “No.”
“Yes,” I lick up the column of her throat, noting the shiver that runs up her spine and the spike in her bracelet.
“Why?” she bites out, her thighs tightening around me like she’s afraid I’m going to drop her.
“Because then we will win,” I say as if it’s obvious.
“I love kissing, so my heart rate will spike, plus it’ll piss Angora off, which I know is an added bonus for us both.
When we first started dating, she hated that I never wanted to make out with her because the lip stuff she wears tastes like eels.
” Poppy doesn’t answer—she doesn’t say no, but she also doesn’t answer. “Please, Pop.”
“For Fate’s sake, fine,” she groans before bracketing my jaw with her hands and pressing her lips to mine. She kisses me hard and fast without softness, like she’s angry. Angry at Fate.
I pull back, breathless. “That was unfair.” My heart is going wild, so wild that Angora must’ve snapped her neck to watch us, sending her off-balance and toppling into the water as a result.
Riven and Poppy: 1
Angora and the douche lord: 0
“Unfair?” Poppy asks, and I watch Angora and Erik wade in front of us on her way to the beach.
“Yeah, because I want to do it again.” Her breath catches.
Mine nearly does too, which feels deeply inconvenient.
“I’m definitely not supposed to. We have an audience after all, and I am a gentleman.
” My response is rehearsed, as in I’ve definitely said it before to another female, but I can’t stop it from coming out.
I lean into Poppy, lips ghosting across the shell of her ear.
“If that’s how you fake it, I can’t imagine how you do it for real.
And bonus points for getting me half-hard on a live magical broadcast.” Not a lie.
Poppy snorts softly, rolling her eyes in that way she does when she’s trying not to smile, and something warm twists unexpectedly low in my chest.
Dangerous.
Not the kiss.
The fact that making her laugh feels better than the kiss did.
Which is ridiculous, because the kiss was phenomenal.
Obviously, this is all just the game getting to me. The island. The forced proximity. The way she keeps forcing herself to look at me like I’m worth more than the worst things I think about myself.
That’ll mess with a man eventually.
Still…
When she ducks her head, smiling despite herself, I catch myself wondering what it would take to make her look at a man like that when no one else is watching.
To do it for real and not for show.
“Challenge complete!” the Mother’s proud voice interrupts any response Poppy was about to give.
I carry Poppy to the beach again, hoping to look over and see the jealousy burning in Angora’s eyes.
Honestly, I’d be happy to see some women in Fate’s Fortune wearing shirts with my face on them.
Anything to validate that gnawing in my chest.
But…what the hell is Erik doing hugging her like that? They just lost.
She is…laughing. Again. Is she laughing at his joke even though they lost? She hates losing. She once yelled at me for thirty minutes for losing spades at her couples-only game night.
Don’t stare. Don’t stare. Oh, Fate, I’m staring.
“You look jealous,” Poppy quips, wiping her lips like she’s trying to remove our kiss from them. Why does that sting? “She’s not worth it.”
“I’m not jealous,” I snap back. “I’m observationally furious.
” And I’m not jealous. Not of them in that way.
I just don’t understand what about me brought out the worst in Angora when she’s so…
nice with Erik. Angora makes eye contact and starts to walk over, hand-in-hand with her match.
“Quick, look in love.” I sling an arm over Poppy’s shoulder and tug her into my side, nearly knocking her over.
“Congrats, you two,” the lord says.
“There you are, looking so cozy again,” Angora adds with, what looks like, a genuine smile. “And just think, you almost didn’t enter the Festival.” She says it like a joke, but I can see something twinkle in her eye. A hint of jealousy, perhaps? She rubs her eye. Nope. Just sand.
“Well, I didn’t know what Fate had in store, but I suppose the Moirai knew better.” Truth. They knew better than to match me with Angora. A truth that Poppy knows, but I feel her flinch beside me, nonetheless.
“Okay, well…bye, Poppy,” Angora starts, looking me up and down before continuing.
“Bye, Riven.” They walk to the front of the group, standing before the Moirai as they hand out emotional resonance scores.
The Moirai and the audience have always scored the couples at the end of each trial or check-in based on how compatible they think they are.
Usually, the couple with the highest score earns a night in Amor Domus, a cabin spelled to give its inhabitants anything their heart desires. I wonder what the prize is here.
“Riven and Poppy.” The Maiden’s eyes pass over the crowd until she finds us. With a smile on her lips, she says, “An eighteen.” The number flashes above our heads. “Not bad at all for your first trial.”
Arm still around her shoulder, I pull her in. “All according to plan,” I hum.
“Riven, that was not a plan.” She shrugs out of my hold when the Moirai’s attention flutters to the next couple. “That was a whim and a prayer.”
“Last couple, Angora and Erik. Fourteen.”
I snort and have to force myself not to outwardly gloat. “We beat them.” I can feel Poppy’s weighted sigh.
“That means that Poppy and Riven have earned a coveted prize,” the Maiden starts.
“Exclusive access to a secluded hot spring for the entire Festival,” the Mother continues. I’ve heard of this spring. Of the healing properties and the sexy rendezvous that can be had there. I bet Angora is pissed. That shouldn’t bring me as much joy as it does.
The Crone brings it home. “You may use this spring for relaxation or bonding, but whatever you use it for, only you will be able to enter.” She waves her hands, and our palms flash with a key sigil before it quickly disappears.
“That sigil will work as a key to give you exclusive access.” She turns her attention away from us to address the full group.
“Tomorrow night, we will meet at the beach for a bonding activity. Until then, your time is yours to enjoy the island.”
The other couples branch off one by one. Some walk away, others use magic to poof themselves away, but Poppy stands still.
“Want to go to the hot spring?” I flip my hand over, looking at the place where the sigil had flashed. “Might be nice to relax after all that.” I wave a hand at the place in the water where the rock platforms had been.
“You can go.” Poppy turns on her heel, and I swear I can hear irritation in her voice. “I need a shower, a nap, and to eat a hot fudge sundae in bed.” Unceremoniously, she snaps her fingers and leaves me on the beach alone, wondering what just happened.