Page 10 of Accidentally Ever After (Wings & Whispers #1)

As the meal progressed, I became aware of a subtle shift in the atmosphere. Courtiers who had previously ignored me began glancing my way with what appeared to be reassessment. My small victory over Ellaria had apparently earned me a measure of respect—or at least curiosity.

After the main courses were cleared, the king rose, signaling a change in the evening’s proceedings. Servants cleared the center of the hall, and musicians appeared on a small dais I hadn’t noticed before.

“The dancing begins,” Caelen explained, rising and offering me his hand. “As is tradition, the royal family leads the first dance.”

Panic flashed through me. “Dancing? No one said anything about dancing. I don’t know fairy dances!”

“Follow my lead,” he said simply, pulling me to my feet. “Trust me.”

We descended from the high table to the cleared space in the center of the hall. King Orion was already there with Lady Ellaria on his arm, her triumphant smile making it clear she considered this another victory.

The music began—strange, otherworldly sounds that somehow formed a coherent melody despite using scales I’d never heard before. Caelen drew me into position, one hand at my waist, the other holding mine.

“The steps are simple,” he murmured. “Three forward, two back, turn, repeat. Feel the rhythm.”

I tried, I really did. But fairy dancing, like everything else in this realm, operated on principles that didn’t quite align with human ones. The rhythm seemed to shift unpredictably, and what Caelen called “simple” steps involved movements that sometimes defied gravity.

“I’m going to humiliate myself,” I whispered as I narrowly avoided stepping on his foot for the third time.

“No,” he said firmly. “You are going to surprise them.”

Before I could ask what he meant, he tightened his grip on my waist and suddenly we were no longer bound by the floor. His wings extended, lifting us several inches into the air as we continued the dance pattern.

Gasps rippled through the watching crowd. Flying during the formal dance was apparently not standard procedure.

“Caelen,” I hissed, clutching his shoulders as my feet lost contact with solid ground. “What are you doing?”

“Adapting the dance to suit my consort’s abilities,” he said, loud enough for those nearby to hear. “As any considerate partner would.”

We spun through the air, the steps that had been awkward on the ground becoming fluid when gravity was removed from the equation. Caelen’s wings guided our movement with graceful precision, and I found myself relaxing into his secure hold, trusting him to keep me from falling.

“Show-off,” I accused, but couldn’t help smiling.

“For you, always,” he replied, his eyes warm on mine.

Other couples had joined the dance now, though all remained earthbound. King Orion watched our aerial display with narrowed eyes, while Lady Ellaria’s expression had soured considerably.

“Your father doesn’t approve,” I observed as Caelen guided us through another airborne turn.

“My father rarely approves of anything I do,” he said lightly. “It is practically a tradition in itself.”

The music shifted, signaling a change in partners. Before I could panic, Caelen deftly returned us to the ground, landing smoothly beside the king and Lady Ellaria.

“Traditional partner exchange,” he explained quietly, then transferred my hand to his father’s while taking Ellaria’s reluctantly offered one.

I found myself face to face with King Orion, his cold violet eyes assessing me with undisguised criticism. His hand was cool on my waist, his grip just short of uncomfortable.

“An interesting interpretation of the ceremonial dance, Consort Morgan,” he said as he led me into the steps, which were thankfully performed on solid ground. “My son seems determined to rewrite traditions to accommodate you.”

“He’s very considerate,” I replied carefully.

“He is very rebellious,” the king corrected. “A trait I had hoped he would outgrow.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so I focused on not stepping on the king’s feet—a transgression I suspected might actually result in amphibian transformation.

“The Spring Conjunction approaches,” King Orion continued. “You will be presented to the other courts as Caelen’s consort—a position of significant visibility and political importance. Are you prepared for such scrutiny?”

“I’m learning,” I said honestly.

“Learning is not the same as knowing,” he countered. “The other courts will not be as… forgiving… of human missteps as we have been.”

“We?” I couldn’t help asking. “You’ve been forgiving?”

A cold smile touched his lips. “If I had not been, you would know.”

Before I could respond to the veiled threat, the music changed again, and I was passed to a new partner—a fairy lord whose name I vaguely recalled from one of Thaelon’s lessons. As we danced, I caught glimpses of Caelen with different partners, his expression polite but distant.

By the time the formal dances concluded, I had been passed between at least a dozen fairy nobles, each taking the opportunity to subtly assess me. Some were openly curious, others barely disguised their disdain, and a few seemed genuinely interested in how a human was adapting to court life.

When I was finally returned to Caelen’s side, I was exhausted from the constant scrutiny and the effort of remembering proper etiquette with each new partner.

“You did well,” he murmured, his hand resting protectively at the small of my back.

“I feel like I just went through the world’s most passive-aggressive job interview,” I replied under my breath.

His lips twitched. “An apt description of court interactions.”

The formal portion of the evening concluded, the gathering shifted to a more relaxed atmosphere. Courtiers broke into smaller groups, servants circulated with beverages that glowed and occasionally changed colors, and the music became more ambient.

Caelen guided me to a relatively quiet corner, procuring two goblets of a blue-violet liquid that tasted like wild berries and midnight. I drank gratefully, the fairy beverage instantly soothing my frayed nerves.

“I notice several of the Eastern Province nobles sought you out for dance,” Caelen observed. “That is significant.”

“Why?” I asked, still struggling to keep track of fairy politics.

“They traditionally align with my father’s conservative faction. Their willingness to engage with you suggests shifting alliances—or at least curiosity.”

“So me not falling on my face during the dance was actually politically important?” I asked, only half-joking.

“Everything at court has political implications,” he confirmed. “Including my decision to adapt the dance.”

“Which pissed off your dad,” I noted.

“A not unwelcome side effect,” Caelen admitted, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Though my primary motivation was ensuring your comfort.”

Before I could respond, a shadow fell across us. Lady Ellaria stood there, her crystalline gown capturing and refracting the light in a way that was almost painfully beautiful.

“Your Highness,” she said to Caelen, completely ignoring me. “The king requests your presence for a discussion with Lord Thalior regarding the border concerns.”

Caelen’s wings stiffened slightly—the only outward sign of his annoyance. “Now?”

“Affairs of state wait for no one,” she said with saccharine sweetness. “Not even for… entertainment.”

The slight was obvious, her implication that I was merely Caelen’s diversion rather than his consort.

“Very well,” Caelen said, his voice cooling to that formal tone he used when annoyed. He turned to me. “Will you be alright for a few moments?”

“I’ll manage,” I assured him. “Go do your princely duties.”

He squeezed my hand briefly before following Ellaria toward a group of serious-looking fairies gathered near the king. As soon as he was out of earshot, I exhaled heavily, leaning against a crystalline column for support. The constant performance was exhausting.

“Tired already, human? The night is still young.”

I turned to find a fairy I didn’t recognize watching me with amusement. He was tall, even by fairy standards, with wings of deep emerald green and hair so black it seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.

“Just pacing myself,” I replied cautiously.

He laughed, the sound like distant wind chimes. “Wise. The Autumn Court’s gatherings are known for their… endurance.” He offered a formal bow. “Lord Faelan of the Eastern Glades. I don’t believe we had the pleasure of dancing earlier.”

I returned the bow, carefully measuring it to the quarter depth Thaelon had drilled into me for lesser nobles. “Consort Morgan. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Impressive,” he said, looking genuinely surprised. “You bow with perfect depth for my station. Someone has been training you well.”

“Instructor Thaelon,” I admitted. “Though I still mix up the Spring Court salute with the Summer Court greeting.”

“An understandable confusion. They are needlessly similar,” he said with a dismissive wave. “Tell me, Consort Morgan, how are you finding our realm? Is it as the human stories depict?”

“Not exactly,” I said, relaxing slightly at his friendly tone. “Fewer tiny people with butterfly wings, more intimidating politics and complicated table settings.”

He laughed again, seeming genuinely amused. “Human stories rarely capture the tedium of court life, do they? It’s all dancing under moonlight and granting wishes.”

“The dancing part is accurate, at least,” I said, glancing toward the center of the hall where couples still moved in complex patterns.

“Indeed.” His eyes followed my gaze, then returned to me with new interest. “The prince’s display during the opening dance was… unprecedented. Flying during the ceremonial exchange is not typically done.”

I shrugged, unsure how politically to respond. “Caelen thought it would be easier for me.”

“Caelen,” Lord Faelan repeated, raising an eyebrow at my use of the prince’s given name. “Such informality. How… refreshing.”