Chapter Eighteen
RIVEN
“Poppy,” I croak, voice dry from drinking last night. I used to drink all night and wake up and rally with no issue. Man, I can’t hang anymore. It’s honestly embarrassing. “Poppy!”
“Shut up,” she groans back. The sound of quick, sloppy snaps pierce my ears. “Water and a healing tonic.” Snap. Snap. “Water and a healing tonic.” Then she groans. “Why isn’t the magic working?”
I snort and instantly regret it when zaps of pain reverberate off my skull. My hand, warm and steady, reaches up to palm my forehead. “I’m beginning to think we’ve been cursed.”
“I rebuke that.” She fakes a spit, warding off the bad energy of my words. I smile. Witches can be so adorably superstitious sometimes. “We’re not cursed. We’re prosperous and blessed.”
My eyes find the horizon. It’s late morning now. The sun is high, and I squint after looking for too long. A soft breeze rolls off the sea and into our bungalow, kissing my skin and making me feel a little bit more alive than I did upon waking.
Poppy rolls from bed, her pajama pants hanging low on her curved waist. Her tank top is hitched high on her abdomen, giving me a perfect look at the body Fate gifted her. Body, humor, intelligence, charisma, kindness. Talk about Fate giving in abundance.
She’s moving slower than normal today, the bottle of wine we shared dulling her typical limited grace to a bumping mess.
“Seven hells,” she curses under her breath when her foot collides with the bedpost. She rounds the corner into the bathroom, turning on the sink and splashing water on her face.
The night plays back to me in slow motion, the nagging thought that I’ve forgotten something lingering on the edge of my consciousness. Stag night. Strippers. Drinks. Poppy. Face masks. Drinks. Noah.
Shit.
“Poppy,” I whine, wishing so desperately to stay in bed all day and nurse my baby hangover. “I did something bad last night.”
“Elven crack?” she mumbles, head poking out of the bathroom. Her toothbrush dangles from her mouth, hair piled on her head, and a sheen of moisturizer on her face. The slightest bit of amusement is twinkling in her eyes.
“Worse.”
“Did you eat my chocolate the maid left on my pillow?” I can barely hear her with her mouth full of suds and toothbrush, and yet I’m amused by every bad joke she’s attempting to make.
“I would never do that. I value my life.”
She spits out her toothpaste and then posts up in the doorway, hip bumped out to rest on the wooden frame.
Her lips pucker, and her head cocks to the side.
I’ve seen this face before. Her mind is reeling as she tries to figure out something clever to say next.
“Did you make your shadows stand in the shape of a man, don a trench coat, and sneak in to the Moirai’s bungalow to steal the keys to a shiny boat I’m sure they have hiding around here somewhere so we can leave this love forsaken island, but they caught you and now you’re going to be locked away for a very long time and I’m being punished as an accomplice by not ever being able to leave this place? ” Clever witch.
“Worse.”
Poppy steps back into the bathroom, and shortly thereafter, I hear the distinct sound of the shower turning on. When she comes back out this time, she’s in a bathrobe, arms crossed as she awaits my answer.
“Just tell me already.”
“I got us invited to lunch by another couple.” Poppy groans so loudly I begin to think she’d rather me have stolen her chocolate.
“A double date? Seriously, Riven? Don’t you think it’ll be a little hard to convince another couple, who are seemingly falling in love, that we’re a real couple?” When I don’t immediately respond, she continues. “Who is it with, and do you think we can get out of it?”
“The warlock professor, Noah, and his fae match.” I can remember very little else over this headache. “He seemed really excited, like dorkily so. It feels cruel to cancel.”
Poppy perks up. “Aoife?”
“I think so.”
She chews on the inside of her cheek, eyes cast up in contemplation.
“Fine, I’ll go, but you need to take this.
” She tosses a bottle to me, and I attempt a smile.
I’d recognize her slimy green hangover potion anywhere.
“We’ll need to be believable, because the warlock sounds like a goody-goody narc and I’m not going to get cursed with seven years’ bad luck in love because you drank too much last night and can’t remember we’re supposed to be obsessed with one another. ”
I roll over, letting a goony look paint my features. “But, darling, I am obsessed.” She glowers at me, eyes desperate to roll, and then snaps her fingers. I feel the pulse of her magic, though no discernable shift makes itself known. “What’d you do?”
“Removed the sugar from your elixir.” Her smile is evil and adorable at the same time.
“Enjoy!” The bathroom door slams. My head shakes, eyes panning across the sea-blue waters once more before I uncork the bottle and bring it to my lips.
Poppy’s right. Going on a double date is going to be different than convincing people in a crowd that we’re a real couple.
For her sake, I need to lock in.
Thank Fate that the table Noah and Aoife picked is shaded. My eyes were so sun-sensitive on the walk here that Poppy mocked me and then used her magic to place this ridiculous hat on my head. It’s ugly, and I think for women, but the wide straw brim does hide my eyes from the sun’s baneful rays.
We’re on a different part of the island, pretty much as far south as you can get without stepping into the sea and wading into the kraken’s domain.
The little café sits on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the glistening water.
Tables draped in flowy white linens dot the paved patio, and helpers of Fate in crisp uniforms take orders and deliver food to the few couples who are eating here.
Noah picks off a plate of fresh fruit, bread, and honey, while the woman with him, who I can only assume is his match, talks about the structure of the bread, pulling it apart with her fingers.
In the back of my headache-riddled brain, I think I remember him telling me she’s a baker.
Noah is a little more intense in the light of day, face pinched in hard lines and posture perfectly straight, but I can see the way Aoife’s warm energy is grounding him. She puts a hand on his arm when she sees Poppy and me approaching, and he nearly melts into her touch.
“Aoife!” Poppy squeals before taking off in a run. Dirt kicks up around her feet but soon settles as she pulls Aoife into a hug. “This one saved me from going insane last night,” Poppy says, her arm slung around the fae’s shoulder. “We were the only sane ones there.”
“That’s a scary thought,” I tease. Aoife’s laugh lights up the space.
Literally. A beam of light pulses from her chest at the involuntary outburst. A light fae.
I’ve never met one in person, not because our kind hate one another or anything, but because we’re both rather elusive.
Shadow fae sticking to the Ombra, and the light fae to the Lucerna, an equally mysterious town far from where I grew up.
“He’s funny,” Aoife whispers loudly to Poppy, causing her cheeks to blush. That’s it, Pop. Play the role of a doting match. It’ll be harder here to successfully fake it. There’s no crowd or spectacle to hide behind now.
“Riven,” I stick my hand out for Aoife to shake and then clap Noah on the back. “Are you hurting as much as I am today? Last night did a number on me.”
“He probably didn’t drink an entire bottle of wine straight from the bottle last night, like you did,” Poppy says, sitting in the chair I pulled out for her and winking at me over her shoulder.
“Oh, sounds like you two had some sexy fun last night,” Aoife teases, and now it's Noah’s turn to blush.
Poppy snorts, choking on the juice in her hand. A laugh bubbles out of me, genuine and immediate. Honestly, it’s not a bad reaction to the question.
“Don’t mind her.” I drape my arm across the back of her chair and pull it closer and closer to mine until our thighs are touching and I can rest my arm on her shoulders.
“Poppy’s shy.” Poppy looks at me with painted-on adoration, but I can feel the desire to glare rolling off her.
I grab the mug before me, bringing the warm cappuccino to my lips.
“She didn’t seem shy last night when she was talking about how big it is.” Aoife’s words rattle around my brain. I choke, then laugh under my breath.
“Careful,” I murmur in a way that’s seemingly private but loud enough for them to hear, “keep talking like that and I’ll start thinking you’re proud of me.”
“I didn’t say that.” Poppy steals my mug and takes a drink, pulling back to reveal a thin foam mustache. My thumb reaches out, wiping it from her lip slowly and then holding her gaze as I bring it to my mouth and suck the foam off.
“So hot,” Aoife fake-gasps.
“I think Aoife is telling one of her jokes,” Noah says adoringly.
Poppy’s eyes are still on me, mouth dropped open slightly. That’s it, babe. She’s doing a great job of making it look like she wants me.
“I was, but after seeing that, I don’t doubt it.” Aoife forks a wedge of melon and drops it on Noah’s plate at the same time he spoons all his grapes onto hers. Like they’re in perfect sync. Like a real couple. I grab my fork and stab the croissant on Poppy’s plate.
“Hey!” She snatches it back. “Get your own.”
I wish I had the ability to speak into her mind. To tell her this is a part of playing the cutesy, in-love couple.
Wait!