Page 5 of A Match Made in Error

But he made sure I didn’t belong to him three years ago.

The guy scoffs, throwing his arms up in light surrender. “Relax. It was a simple misunderstanding. I didn’t know she was your girl.”

“She belongs to no one but herself.” Riven tilts his head, still smiling, voice sweet as spun sugar. “And, buddy, I’m the most relaxed bastard in this bar.” Then the smile widens, a little unhinged. “I could remove your head and still sit by the fire, whiskey in hand, after.”

The man blanches. Riven steps closer until the behemoth has to step back or be chest-to-chest with death wearing dimples.

“Apologize,” Riven says softly, eyes drifting up and down the man’s form like he’s not impressed.

And Fate help him, the man does. Fast and mumbled before he scurries off into the cold night.

Riven watches him go, then exhales, the violent shimmer fading like the shadow slipping off his shoulders. He turns back to me, the sunshine returning, too bright and too quick, as if nothing happened.

“You okay?” he asks, dimples back, voice soft. My pulse is wild. It never gets familiar, the sight of Riven unsheathing his perfectly coiffed control to come to my aid.

Something low in my stomach flips. “Yes,” I swallow, reaching out to steady myself on the bar.

He smirks, probably reading every thought on my face. “Good.” A wink. “Would’ve been awkward if I had to bury a guy on a Thursday evening.”

“Because that’s when you steal the money from the roulette players in the backroom?” I joke around my shaky breath.

“It’s not stealing when you win it with skill.” His long canines are on display again as he smirks. I fight the urge to remind him that roulette is a luck-based game. He moves past me, brushing my arm, casual again as if he didn’t just defend my honor like a mythic hero with rage issues, and takes a seat at the bar once more. “See you tomorrow, Poppy,” he tosses over his shoulder. A statement, not a question, and after I just witnessed the lengths my best friend would go to defend me, I can’t deny him this simple request of watching him ruin his life for a month.

“Sure,” I give in. “See you tomorrow.” Surely the Festival can’t be any more painful as an attendee than it was as a contestant. At least as a spectator, I can eat an elephant ear and drink cider while my friend makes a fool of himself in front of the entire realm.

What are friends for, right?

Chapter Two

POPPY

Riven’s smirk lingers in my head as I step into the cool autumn night. A snap of wind howls down the alley, and I have to pull my cardigan tighter around myself to keep the chill from penetrating into my bones. Only a hundred steps around the building, and I’ll be at the stairs to my apartment. I can do this.

Lamplight shines off the rain-slicked street, and leaves cling to my boots, sticking to the sides and ruining the new shoe-shine I’d magically lacquered them with earlier. I growl. This is not helping my sour mood.

I’m irritated at Riven. His talking about the Festival and how he is going to enter it definitely triggered my mood. Watching Angora act like a privileged twat didn’t help either. She thinks the sun orbits her, and her actions tonight highlight the very reason Riven shouldn’t enter the Festival. What will she do if they aren’t matched…and what will become of him if they are?

From the edge of town, I stand overlooking where the cobblestones fade into dirt and watch the caravan of Festival trailers rumble in. Workers hop down with ladders and strings of lanterns, dragging bright fabrics, wooden booths, and enchanted signage across the clearing. Even half-built, the scent of sugared pastries and pine from the decorative garlands rides the breeze, mingling with the clang of hammers and the snap of canvases being unfurled. By tomorrow, it’ll be as dazzling as always. Banners shimmering, crowds laughing, the whole town pretending the show and the love it brings are miraculous instead of what they really are. A gamble. It's beautiful, yes. But to me, it’s all begun to feel like a grand, glittering shell. Hollow in the center where love is supposed to be.

And I need to get away from it. Now.

Soft light glows from my living room window, hazy in the growing mist. Just a staircase and a door standing between me and the cold and triggers of my past disappointment. Maybe I’ll conjure a bubble bath tonight and drink cocoa whilst watching a hologram play. A perfect night, honestly.

The only thing that would make it better would be if I had someone to share it with.

A pang of loneliness thrums in my chest, refusing to let the memories of my last festival fade.

I stomp up the stairs, anger roiling in my gut. It was supposed to be magic. A month of Fate-blessed challenges, of becoming known, being chosen. But all it ever gave me was endings and promises that dissolved once the crowd was gone. I used to believe that the Festival was spun from stardust and destiny, a place where the Moirai whispered your soulmate’s name straight into your bones. Now, it feels more like a cosmic joke I kept falling for. Three attempts, three disappointments, and not a single love worth keeping. The Festival didn’t bless me—it bruised me, over and over, until I learned to stop offering it my hope.

I’m done.

And now Riven is about to thrust himself into the very pit I long to avoid. Idiot.

Cool metal presses into my hand, the doorknob turning effortlessly as I mutter an unlocking spell, never having found my keys. My small apartment hugs me, cluttered plants whispering hello from their shelves and my half-finished crochet project winking from its perch on my couch. Welcome home.

My scarf uncoils with ease, the jacket on my back soon joins the others on the coat rack, and my shoes add to the pile by the front door.

I try to push the thoughts about tomorrow from my mind, but even from the edge of town, I can hear the sounds of the stalls being set up through my open windows. With the twist of my hand, the tea kettle starts boiling and a cinnamon tea bag floats behind me as I shut the cracked windows to cut off both the noise and the crisp autumn air from invading my space.