Page 11 of Accidentally Ever After (Wings & Whispers #1)

I mentally kicked myself for the slip. “His Highness,” I corrected belatedly.

“No, no,” Faelan said, waving away my correction. “I find it charming. The court could use more authentic connection and less rigid formality.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Between us, many of the younger nobles share that view.”

“Really?” I asked, surprised. “I got the impression everyone here worshipped tradition.”

“Not everyone,” he assured me. “Some of us recognize the need for our realm to evolve. To perhaps… reconnect with the mortal world in ways beyond occasional amusement.”

The political implications weren’t lost on me, even with my limited understanding of fairy politics. “That sounds like a potentially controversial position.”

“Change always is,” he agreed. “Which is why your presence here is so significant. A human consort to the prince suggests new possibilities, new connections between realms.”

Before I could respond to this intriguing revelation, another fairy approached—this one female, with butterfly wings in shades of sunset orange and copper hair that seemed to move of its own accord.

“Lord Faelan,” she said, her voice like warm honey. “Monopolizing the prince’s consort? How unlike you to be so bold.”

“Lady Sorcha,” Faelan greeted her with a slight bow. “I was merely introducing myself to our realm’s newest addition.”

“Of course you were,” she said with a knowing smile. Her eyes turned to me, warm and curious. “Consort Morgan, I am Lady Sorcha of the Amber Citadel. Your performance this evening has been most… illuminating.”

“Thank you?” I said, not entirely sure if it was a compliment.

“It was meant as one,” she assured me, correctly reading my uncertainty. “Few would have handled Lady Ellaria’s barbs with such composure, especially one new to court.”

“Or returned them so elegantly,” Faelan added with a grin. “Your response at the high table was masterful.”

I felt myself relaxing further as I realized these two, at least, seemed genuinely friendly rather than hostile or coldly assessing.

“I’m still learning the rules,” I admitted. “Sometimes I worry I’ll say the wrong thing and end up as a frog.”

They both laughed, though Lady Sorcha’s eyes widened slightly. “Has someone threatened transformation?” she asked, suddenly serious.

“Not explicitly,” I said quickly. “It’s just something I worry about.”

“Such magic would require royal sanction,” Faelan said, his tone reassuring. “And I doubt Prince Caelen would permit it, regardless of his father’s wishes.”

“Speaking of His Highness,” Sorcha said, glancing across the hall, “he appears to be looking for you, Consort Morgan. And he does not seem pleased to find you in our company.”

I followed her gaze to see Caelen making his way toward us, his expression carefully neutral but his wings held stiffly in what I now recognized as concern or possibly irritation.

“Is there a problem with me talking to you?” I asked, confused.

Faelan and Sorcha exchanged glances. “Let’s just say that those who favor more progressive policies are not always in favor with the king,” Faelan explained delicately.

“And by association, those who speak openly with such progressives may find themselves subject to… scrutiny,” Sorcha added.

Before I could process the implications, Caelen reached us, his wing brushing possessively against my back as he positioned himself slightly between me and the other fairies.

“Lord Faelan, Lady Sorcha,” he greeted them with perfect courtesy, though I could feel the tension in him. “I see you’ve met my consort.”

“Indeed, Your Highness,” Faelan said, bowing. “We were just discussing the fascinating differences between our realms.”

“A broad topic,” Caelen observed neutrally.

“And one worth exploring further,” Sorcha added, her warm eyes moving between Caelen and me. “Perhaps at a more appropriate occasion.”

“Perhaps,” Caelen agreed, though his tone suggested no such occasion would be forthcoming.

The two fairies took the hint, bowing respectfully before drifting away to join other groups.

“They seemed nice,” I said once they were out of earshot. “Are they friends of yours?”

Caelen’s expression was complicated. “Politically aligned on certain matters, but ‘friend’ would be an overstatement in court context.”

“They said they’re part of a progressive faction,” I pressed. “One that supports more connection with the human world. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“It is… complicated,” he said, guiding me toward a less crowded area of the hall. “Lord Faelan and Lady Sorcha represent interests that align with some of my own views, yes. But their approach is sometimes more… aggressive than diplomatic. My father watches them closely.”

“So me talking to them puts a target on my back?” I guessed.

“Not precisely, but it does signal political alignment,” he explained. “I had hoped to introduce you to court factions more gradually, after you had a firmer grasp of the complexities.”

“Sorry,” I said, genuinely contrite. “I didn’t realize casual conversation was making a political statement.”

His expression softened. “You couldn’t have known. Court interaction is a minefield even for those born to it.” His wing brushed against my back again, a gesture of reassurance. “You’ve done remarkably well tonight, Blake. Better than I could have hoped.”

The praise warmed me. “Even with the dancing disaster?”

“Especially with the dancing,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Your willingness to try, to adapt—it speaks volumes to those watching.”

The evening continued for several more hours, a blur of introductions, careful conversations, and more of that berry-flavored fairy alcohol that made everything slightly more tolerable.

By the time the king finally rose to signal the event’s conclusion, I was exhausted but strangely exhilarated.

I’d survived my first formal court function without causing an international incident—a win by any standard.