Page 10 of A Match Made in Error

Even though I’m breathing.

Even though I’m fine.

“I’m okay, Riven. You saved me.” My words are hushed, an attempt to hide them from the nosy crowd that’s pressing in.

“Even still,” he adds quietly, shadows writhing tighter, “someone needs to pay.” His grip tightens, protective and possessive all at once. “Who did this?”

Before I can tell him that I don’t know and that this is a silly witch hunt, a voice—deep, ancient, and vibrating straight through my bones—rises from my hand.

“Roll,” it demands.

I gasp and look down.

A die rests in my palm.

Not a die.

The die. One of the two Dice of Destiny. The one rolled to find a match in the Festival of Fates.

It’s warm and humming and etched with runes that glow like embers against my skin.

Riven’s gaze snaps to it instantly. “Why do you have that?” he asks, sharp now, all humor gone.

“I don’t know,” I whisper. Panic claws up my throat. “I didn’t—this isn’t⁠—”

I fling it away.

The die vanishes midair.

Then reappears in my hand.

“Roll!” the voice booms again, louder this time, rattling the stone beneath us, shaking lanterns from the air.

“No!” I shout, clutching my fist to my chest. “I didn’t enter. I didn’t consent. I’m done with this.”

Riven doesn’t move.

He stays seated, solid and unyielding, my weight still anchored in his lap. One arm bands around my back, the other braced against the ground like he’s decided this is where he’ll make his stand. His shadows that had flared moments before retreat—but not far. They coil close, watchful, waiting.

The Crone rises.

Her staff strikes stone.

Once.

The sound silences the arena.

“Roll,” she commands, voice carrying the weight of centuries. “Fate demands it, and we do not deny Fate. Or else Fate may take from you what you desire most.”

My hands shake, and no matter how long I glare at the Moirai, their verdict is unwavering.

Riven’s chin dips, his mouth close to my ear. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, low and fierce. “This isn’t a big deal, and we’ll figure it out later. Whatever happens, I’ve got you.”

I swallow hard and let the die fall.

It clatters across the stone.

Spins.