Page 66 of A Match Made in Error

Oh.

Oh no.

It isn’t Rodrick who unsettles me as the Moirai intended. I know this as certainly as I know my own name.

It’s Angora’s hand on Riven and the way he looks comfortable standing there with her.

It’s the realization that I do not want to watch him succeed in making her—or any other maiden—want him like he wanted to when I agreed to this whole fake dating plot.

Through the haze, Rodrick is still speaking, but I have no idea what he’s saying. Because, not for the first time since we arrived on this island, I feel it clearly. Jealousy and temptation.

And it has nothing to do with my past.

At least, not the past sitting across from me.

Chapter Twenty-Three

RIVEN

The Moirai must have been really bored when they came up with this challenge. Why else would they come up with a challenge that is borderline torture for most of us? Tension hangs heavy like fog over the sea early in the morning. A few people look pleased, almost moony-eyed over their ex-lovers, but most of us look like we're being asked to chew and swallow glass.

Angora’s voice, shrill and rapid, prods my eardrum with violent intention. How did I ever tolerate this? And why, in Fate’s name, did I think joining the Festival just to progress our physical relationship was a good idea? Right now, that feels like a lifetime ago.

“And so, I told Erik that I think summering in his parents’ southern estate would be amazing. Think of the clothes I could buy there! I mean, they practically invented silk. Wouldn’t I look fabulous draped in silk?” I’m so distracted that I barely remember that this estate probably doesn’t exist, and the caring part of me that wanted to tell her is distracted by watching over Poppy. Why’d they have to sit her so far away?

“Absolutely fabulous.” My voice is so flat you could balance a ball on it. She continues on, but I tune it out when an angelic laugh cuts through the tension permeating the space around me.

My eyes snap to the table on the opposite side of the room. Poppy’s laughing with him. Her head is tossed back with carefree abandon I’ve scarcely seen since we entered the competition. Why is she laughing like that? Has this whole thing suppressed her so much that Rodrick is bringing her joy? I know how much she hates him. He broke her heart and is one of the reasons she decided to come to Fate’s Fortune in the first place.

Did he just touch her hand?

My fingers tighten around the dainty salad fork beside my plate.

Don’t stab him. Don’t stab him. Don’t stab him.

The Moirai should know she deserves someone better. A heavy sigh heaves my chest. Well, they did put her with me twice, so maybe their matching skills aren’t as good as I want them to be. Rodrick turns his hand over, an act I’ve done a million times. A smile, a wink, and an offer to hold my date’s hand. It’s a classic move. And he’s not going to pull any moves on Poppy.

“Careful, friend,” I call out across the club to Poppy’s table. Rodrick looks up, a smug look on his punchable face. “She smiles like that just being nice, but it seems to give men ideas above their station.”

“Including you?” he quips back instantly.

I smirk darkly, playing the role the Moirai would expect a love-drunk fool to when another man tries pushing in on his territory. “Especially me.”

Angora, shockingly, is austere and silent when I finally pull my eyes back to the table. “So, how long have you been in love with Poppy?”

“What?” I laugh incredulously.

“You’re acting so jealous.” Her voice is gentle, as if she’s speaking to a frightened child instead of a grown warrior.

“That prick is pushing it. I’m protecting her.” Besides, I’ve never seen real love to even know where to begin. I knew that from the moment I met Poppy. She wanted love, true love, and a fae from a toxic home with more battlefield experience than domestic warmth was not the one to give it to her. In my family, love ruins things, and the last thing I wanted to ruin was her. I knew then that the friendship we formed in those few weeks wasn’t worth risking.

“It’s okay if you like her,” Angora says, a giggle hidden behind her manicured hand. “I have Erik now.”

“I don’t—” I stop short. I’m not allowed to say it, not without blowing up everything Poppy and I have been faking. Plus, that statement wouldn’t be true, and I can’t bring myself to say it. Of course I like Poppy. She’s my best friend.

“I don’t blame you. She’s kind and stunning.” Angora looks over her shoulder, catching Poppy in a stream of island sunlight shining on her face. Angora looks back, a grin on her face that looks like a cat that’s eaten a canary. She thinks she’s got me. That she’s right. But it’s not like that. I just can’t deny that she is both kind and stunning.

“Angora, I⁠—”