Chapter Thirty-Four
POPPY
The sky is offensively beautiful again. Only this time, it feels like it’s celebrating instead of mocking. I can see why this is the type of weather poets use as proof that Fate has a sense of romance because now I’m proof of it as well.
Riven and I are standing under a woven arch that glitters with delicate gold leaf. The same soft breeze is blowing through my hair. We’re standing in the same town square, and the same man is beside me holding my hand. But everything is so different.
Last time I stood here with Riven, he and I were starting our journey to faking it, and the time before that, cowardice and idiocy had convinced us both that we were okay just being friends. This time, we’re acknowledging to the world that we won’t settle for anything less than together forever.
The last week on the island was sun-soaked bliss.
We snorkeled, drank mojitos, and spent time with the other couples.
This morning, the ferryboat brought us back to Fate’s Fortune, where the final matching ceremony can take place in the Arena of Affection, in front of the fans who have been watching us from afar the entire month.
Speaking of, the crowd feels calmer this year, more reverent. Or maybe it’s just me that’s changed, not them. I’m looking at them through the eyes of a witch in love, after all.
The Crone steps forward, drawing eyes in and mouths closed. The Mother and Maiden flank her. “One at a time, you will step forward and speak your truth.”
“Riven and Poppy, you will go first.” The Maiden’s order is soft, eyes passing gently over us with approval.
Riven steps before the dais, holding me by the elbow to assist me up before stepping beside me and interlocking our fingers once more.
The contact has no hesitation. There’s no pause or question.
His hand finds mine immediately and holds it with reverence I didn’t think simple hand-holding was capable of.
I look up at him, the sunlight catching on his sharp cheekbones and pointed ears, shadows lingering near me.
One twists up, locking around my ring finger just like it did that day during the Return of the Exes: Brunch from Hells.
“Ready?” Riven whispers out of the corner of his mouth, as if the Moirai can’t hear him.
I huff out a gentle laugh at the silliness of such an act. “Yeah, I am.”
“Riven Shadowbane, Poppy Meadows, step up.” Upon the Mother’s direction, we feel the gentle pull of their magic bringing us into their orbit, standing so directly under the arch that the gold reflects off my eyelashes. We move in sync, no hesitation.
“Tell us of your match,” the Crone commands.
“She’s brilliant.” Riven speaks first with no deflection.
No lame joke or attempt at flirting. No slouch or emotional armor either.
When they say love changes a man, they aren’t kidding.
“Still stubborn, too.” The audience laughs.
Maybe I spoke too soon on the joke part, but he wouldn’t be him without them, I suppose.
His lips flicker with the promise of a grin.
“Though I don’t think she is any longer completely immune to my charm.
” I bite the inside of my cheek, hiding my own smile.
Guilty. “I once said she threw me off my game, but I was wrong.” He turns in, speaking to them while looking at me and holding both my hands in his.
“She is my game. My world, actually.” My throat tightens with emotion.
The man who jokes his way through life is now speaking as if every word matters? Yeah, that’ll choke me up every time.
The Maiden nods with approval. “And one truth you did not expect?”
He laughs, as if it should be obvious, but answers anyway.
“I didn’t expect to fall in love. To make what was fake real.
” His eyes lock with mine. “And not because I was missing how amazing she is; I’m not that blind.
” The crowd laughs again, softer this time.
“But because she deserves way better than me. But if I’m being honest, I’ve known she was home for a long time; I was just too cowardly to admit it. ”
“I once said that maybe not every match was meant to be true love,” I say, and my eyes flicker between his and the earnestness in them is heart-mending.
“Of the three times I thought it, I was right twice,” another chorus of laughter engulfs us, “but wrong the first time.” This time, the audience reacts in awe.
“Some love stories just take time to become what they’re meant to be.
I didn’t realize until I was on the Isle that my love for Riven was inevitable. ”
“And what do you want from this match?” the Crone asks for the crowd, but those of us on the island know that the oath Riven made to me is answer enough.
“I want her.” Riven’s words are quiet, as if they’re meant only for me to hear.
I don’t stop my smile this time. “And I want him.”
Not because Fate matched us, but because we chose it.
The die appears in Riven’s hand again. Is it glowing brighter this time?
Within it, threads of gold and shadow intertwine, as if reflecting the sunshine incarnate shadow fae who holds them.
He looks at me before rolling and then unceremoniously tosses the die into the well.
Because it doesn’t matter. No matter the number, we will be together until death claims us, and again even after if I have any say in it.
A flickering nineteen lights up on the crystal above us, and then the Moirai step back, their magic building around us.
I hold my breath.
We’ve earned a soulbond.
Light threads from the ground, and Riven’s shadows tighten around our ankles in response. Cool air and warm sensations intertwine around the dais, pulsating between us.
My soul opens, the tendrils of my magic reaching, searching, and then finding him. They wrap around him, around us, pulling and binding until I can’t tell where I end and he begins. Our hands tighten, bodies drawing in, vibrating under the weight of magic and our new connection.
When the magic settles, we’re still holding one another.
“You’re stuck with me now,” Riven says with a smirk. “Fate says so.”
“Even if I wasn’t, I choose you.” My words are definitive. “Every day, for forever.”
“Good.” He kisses my forehead, and the awws from the audience shatter the love bubble we’d been in. Honestly, I’d nearly forgotten about them. “Because I’m never again pretending I don’t feel the same.”
It’s with great irony that I realize that once, we stood here and let each other go. Now, there is no version of this world where we would.
We step back into the crowd of matches, my fingers tangled tightly with Riven’s as couple after couple step before the Moirai to decide their futures.
When Noah and Aoife step forward, the entire atmosphere softens. Noah looks terrified, and Aoife looks delighted by this fact.
The Maiden grins knowingly. “And what do you wish to become of your match?”
Aoife answers first, voice bright and immediate. “His. I want to become his.”
Noah’s expression crumbles so openly it makes my chest ache. He looks at her like every good thing in the world somehow ended up standing in front of him.
“If she’ll have me,” he says softly, “I’d be a fool to choose anything but being hers.”
The die glows gold before it even stops rolling. A twenty. Like they deserve.
The crowd erupts.
Aoife laughs as Noah pulls her into his arms, kissing her like he forgot anyone else existed, and beside me, Riven mutters, “Gods, they’re aggressively in love.” I smile so hard my cheeks hurt. “Just like us.”
Not long after, Angora and Erik step before the Moirai.
The contrast is almost comical.
The Crone watches them both with ancient amusement. “What do you wish to become of this match?”
Angora lifts her chin elegantly. “He’s a lord,” she says simply, smoothing a hand over her gown. “Of course I want to continue the match.”
Erik flashes a grin sharp enough to cut glass. “And she’s gorgeous, so I’d say we’re both winning here.”
Riven coughs suspiciously beside me.
The Mother sighs like she’s personally exhausted by them.
But when I look at Angora now, I feel…nothing sharp anymore.
No bitterness.
No jealousy.
No triumph.
Honestly, just a little pity about the bomb that’s soon going to be dropped on her about her match’s wealth. Honestly, I may even feel a strange sort of fondness from a distance. Because maybe, in their own odd way, they could be perfect for each other.
Erik rolls the die in his hands, and shockingly, a seventeen glitters above them.
Maybe they are two people chasing glitter and appearances and ambition with enough confidence to power the entire realm. Maybe sometimes love simply looks like two people choosing the same dream.
The thought settles warmly inside me, smoothing away the last remnants of resentment I’d been carrying.
By the time the final couple leaves the dais, the sky has melted into streaks of gold and violet above the arena.
Around us, soulbonds glow faintly against skin.
Couples laugh and cry and kiss beneath lantern light while the Moirai watch from their glittering thrones, which look suspiciously like they are decorated with ancient stars, weaving fate thread by thread.
Riven’s hand squeezes mine, and together, hand in hand, we leave the Festival knowing our story doesn’t end here.
If anything—it’s only just beginning.
Turns out, when it came to us, Fate wasn’t wrong.
Just early.