Page 87 of A Match Made in Error

“I know.” His smile is self-deprecating.

“Honestly, I’m trying really hard not to ruin everything. Because I’ve been dreaming of this moment for the entire Festival, and I’ve felt like a fool because I convinced myself you weren’t thinking of me the same way.”

He considers my words for a moment, hand finding mine under the water again and lacing our fingers. “I don’t think I ever stopped thinking about you. I just pretended to, or categorized it as just friends. I wanted to see you all the time because we were friends. I wanted you to stay in Fate’s Fortune because we were friends. I wanted to spoon you in bed because we were friends.”

“The last one feels far-fetched,” I giggle, head falling on his shoulder in an act of practice. We’ve sat like this a thousand times, but never while having a conversation like this. A conversation that will determine the future of our relationship.

“I know,” he laughs, planting a kiss on my forehead before continuing. “You looked beautiful that night, by the way, when we were first matched three years ago. I didn’t say it because I thought if I stayed your friend, I could handle it.”

“Handle what?” I ask, sitting up to look into his gold-flecked eyes.

“Not being enough for you.” He steals my breath away. An act that, though I’ve danced around the thought of love all my life, has never happened. “I think I’ve always known I wanted to be with you, and then I felt that pulsing, sinking feeling when I was first matched, and like a coward, changed my mind when I got too close.” His head lulls over, eyes piercing into mine once more. I sit up straight, trying hard to stay grounded while my head and heart threaten to float away from me. “I pushed it down because I was scared. You scared me. But now I know that you’re the only person I feel safe wanting.” He swallows, hand reaching out to hold my jaw once more. “I’m sorry. I should’ve chosen you the first time.”

“You want to be with me?” Maybe a stupid question, but I had to be sure.

“Yes.” His answer is definitive. No pause. No hesitation. So assured and confident, it brings me to tears in an instant, because I want this, I want him, and now that we’re here, I don’t know what I’d do if he changed his mind like he is so prone to doing.

His eyes bulge, alarm contorting his handsome features. “What’s wrong?”

I hiccup, drawing in a long breath before answering. “I’m afraid you’ll change your mind again when we’re not on this love island, forced to expose our true feelings for one another and share the same bed every night. I’m your only option here.”

Riven goes very still. Then he nods once, like I’ve just confirmed something he’s known all along.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “Then don’t take my word for it.”

He reaches for the dagger on the sand and draws it across his palm. Blood wells bright against his skin, and I gasp when he catches my wrist gently.

“Listen to me,” he says, voice steady in a way that terrifies me. “What I’m about to do isn’t Festival magic. This isn’t Fate. This is far, far older.” He presses his bleeding hand to mine, painting it with warm crimson blood. “I bind my life to yours by choice,” he murmurs, words threading into the air like shadow. “I will not abandon you. I will not betray you. I will not turn from you when it’s easier to leave.” The magic stirs. Promising and unmistakable. A binding spell. The same one that the couple after us completed three years ago at our first matching ceremony. Tears well in my eyes at the gravity of his words. “If I break this vow,” he continues, eyes never leaving mine, “let my strength fail and shadows leave me. Let my power rot. Let death find me swiftly and without mercy.” The spell ignites, wrapping around us both like tiny golden threads.

My breath stutters. “Riven⁠—”

“I know this is serious,” he says softly. “That’s the point.” The magic seals with a sound like a heartbeat, and I feel the shift in my chest. One that only comes with a blood oath.

He releases my hand, and I eye the blood smear as if it means the world.

Because it does.

“I don’t need Fate to tell me who I belong to,” he says, voice breaking at last. “I choose you. Even if it kills me. One way or another, you’re going to be the death of me, Pop. And now, I’m begging for it.” That’s Riven. The man who leaps without thought. The man who’s bound himself without being asked.

I feel my throat tighten, eyes burning. All I’ve wanted my whole life, achingly so, is for someone to choose me like this. Someone who wouldn’t wait for Fate to decide whether I am worth keeping. And now Riven has. This vow cannot be taken back. Cannot be faked. Cannot be survived if betrayed. To betray such a bond would mean inevitable death.

Not only can it not be undone, but it has to be given voluntarily without coercion or sway. Only words spoken from the soul can be counted. He swore it without sway of charm or fear. As desperate to have me believe his word is true as I am to be loved by him. He who knows me, good and bad, and has chosen me still.

All my life, I have witnessed devotion, but now I have it myself. I know that not only is Riven’s word unable to be broken, but his soul swears he never wants it to be anyway.

Also, this will make the Moirai furious, which is an added bonus.

“Well?” Riven says, pulling me from my spiraling mind and reminding me it’s been far too long since I’ve spoken.

“I feel like anything I try to say after that will pale in comparison.” We both laugh, a soft, nervous tension settling over us. We know what comes next, and the anticipation is creeping over us like his shadows. I find his eyes, sun-flecked and earnest, and pour out my soul. “I want to be with you too. I think I have for a long time, but it was quieter, and I pushed it to the side in pursuit of a husband when the man who liked me despite myself was beside me all along.”

“So…” His eyes drift around the spring. “What now?” His brow quirks mischievously, the old Riven returning now that the emotional weight is off his shoulders.

“Rumor has it, this next part is your expertise,” I tease.

He slides his body closer to mine. “If you want me to kiss you, just say so. No need to resort to psychological warfare.”

He tilts my head back. “Okay, I want you to kiss me.” My words are breathless, and I can hear my heart beating in my ears.