Page 17 of Accidentally Ever After (Wings & Whispers #1)

“The Spring Court caravan has been spotted at the eastern border,” Melronna reported, her butterfly wings fluttering with excitement. “They will arrive by nightfall.”

“And the Summer delegation?” Caelen asked, reviewing the elaborate scrolls spread across the table in our chambers.

“Already settled in the South Wing,” Melronna confirmed. “The Winter Court representatives send word they are delayed by adverse conditions in the Frost Passes but expect to arrive by tomorrow’s midday.”

I listened to these reports with growing anxiety, fidgeting with the formal tunic Melronna had laid out for my “official presentation” the following evening.

After two months in the fairy realm, I’d grown somewhat accustomed to court life, but the Spring Conjunction represented a new level of scrutiny—and finality.

Once I was formally presented to the four courts as Caelen’s consort, our union would be irrevocable by fairy law. The binding that had begun with a misunderstood signature and deepened through our physical and emotional connection would become permanent in every sense.

It should have terrified me. Two months ago, it would have. But now, after everything we’d shared—especially since the Festival of Lights—the prospect of a permanent life with Caelen filled me more with anticipation than dread.

Still, there was a small, nagging doubt I couldn’t quite silence. Not about Caelen, but about what I was giving up. My business. My apartment. My human friends who probably thought I’d disappeared off the face of the earth. My entire former life.

“Blake?” Caelen’s voice broke through my brooding. “Are you well?”

I realized Melronna had left, and Caelen was watching me with concern, his wings held in that slightly rigid position that indicated worry.

“Just nervous about tomorrow,” I said, which wasn’t entirely a lie. “Lots of important fairies judging my every move.”

He approached, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. “You have mastered our customs admirably. The other courts will find no fault in you.”

“Except the whole being human thing,” I pointed out.

“That,” he said with surprising firmness, “is an asset, not a liability. Your perspective has already influenced court policy for the better.”

It was true. In the past weeks, I’d gradually taken on more than just the ceremonial aspects of being a consort.

Caelen had begun including me in policy discussions, valuing my “human perspective” on matters ranging from resource management to diplomatic relations.

I’d even helped draft a proposal for renewed contact with the mortal realm—carefully regulated, but more open than the current isolationist approach.

“I suppose,” I conceded. “Still, tomorrow feels… big.”

“It is,” he agreed, his hand moving to cup my face. “But we face it together.”

I leaned into his touch, drawing comfort from the contact.

Since the Festival of Lights, our connection had deepened in ways that still sometimes surprised me.

I could sense his emotions more clearly now, just as he could sense mine —a development that made hiding my occasional doubts increasingly difficult.

“There is something else troubling you,” he said, proving my point. “Something you’re not saying.”

I sighed, moving away to look out the window at the bustling palace grounds below, where servants prepared for the arriving delegations. “I’ve been thinking about home. About Earth.”

Caelen was silent for a moment. “You miss it,” he said finally, a statement rather than a question.

“Parts of it,” I admitted. “Not enough to want to leave permanently,” I added quickly, turning to see the concern in his expression. “But there are things—people—I left behind without any explanation. My business I built from nothing. Friends who probably think I’m dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“I see.” His wings drooped slightly, despite his attempt to maintain a neutral expression. “You wish to return.”

“To visit,” I clarified. “To tie up loose ends. To let people know I’m okay, even if I can’t tell them the whole truth.” I moved back to him, taking his hands in mine. “This is my home now, Caelen. You are my home. I just need… closure, I guess.”

Relief softened his features. “Of course. After the conjunction, we can arrange a brief visit to the mortal realm. I could accompany you, if you wish.”

“I’d like that,” I said, smiling at the thought of introducing Caelen to my world. “Though we’ll need to work on your cover story. ‘Fairy prince’ might raise some eyebrows.”

“I can glamour my appearance,” he reminded me. “Though you would still see my true form.”

“Convenient,” I said, reaching up to trace the elegant point of his ear. “Though I’m quite fond of these.”

He caught my hand, bringing it to his lips. “After tomorrow’s presentation, we can begin planning your visit. The bond will be strong enough then to allow extended time in the mortal realm without ill effects.”

I nodded, feeling some of my anxiety ease. The prospect of being able to visit Earth, to properly say goodbye to my old life rather than having it abruptly severed, made the permanence of tomorrow’s ceremony less daunting.

“Now,” Caelen said, his tone lightening, “we should review the ceremonial proceedings once more. The Spring Court is particularly attentive to proper protocol.”

I groaned theatrically. “More bowing practice? I thought I finally had the Winter Court reverence down.”

“Indeed you do,” he assured me with a smile. “But the Spring greeting involves a specific hand gesture that—”

A sharp knock interrupted us. Before Caelen could respond, the door burst open, and Lord Faelan strode in, his emerald wings agitated.

“Your Highness,” he said, bowing hastily. “Forgive the intrusion, but this could not wait.”

Since our first meeting at the formal banquet, Lord Faelan had become something of an ally. As leader of the progressive faction at court, he supported Caelen’s more open policies and had been instrumental in gathering support for our proposal on renewed human contact.

“What is it, Faelan?” Caelen asked, instantly alert.

“The king has called an emergency session of the High Council,” Faelan reported, his expression grave. “He claims to have discovered new information regarding the consort bond that requires immediate attention.”

My stomach dropped. “What kind of information?”

Faelan’s eyes met mine, uncharacteristically serious. “I’m not certain, but my sources indicate he plans to challenge the legitimacy of your union before the visiting courts.”

“He cannot,” Caelen said, his wings flaring in anger. “The bond is sanctioned by the matchmakers. It cannot be dissolved without mutual consent.”

“Unless,” Faelan said carefully, “it was formed under false pretenses or coercion.”

The implication hung in the air between us. King Orion had tricked me into signing the marriage contract—a fact that, if presented properly, could potentially invalidate our bond.

“When is this council session?” Caelen demanded, already moving toward the door.

“Beginning now,” Faelan said grimly. “In the Crystal Chamber.”

“I’m coming with you,” I said, following Caelen.

He paused, turning to me with concern. “The High Council is traditionally closed to consorts until they are formally presented.”

“I don’t care about tradition,” I said firmly. “This is about our bond. I should be there.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. “Very well. But stay close to me, and let me speak unless directly addressed.”

We followed Faelan through the palace corridors at a pace just short of running, passing startled servants and courtiers who flattened themselves against walls to avoid our hasty procession.

The Crystal Chamber was in a part of the palace I’d never visited—a tower that seemed to be made entirely of clear, faceted crystal that refracted the late afternoon light into rainbow patterns.

Inside, the High Council was already assembled—twelve of the highest-ranking nobles from the Autumn Court, seated at a round table with King Orion at its head. Lady Ellaria stood at his right hand, a satisfied smile playing at her lips that made my skin crawl.

All eyes turned to us as we entered, conversations halting mid-sentence.

“Ah, my son,” King Orion said, his tone falsely pleasant. “How convenient that you should join us. We were just discussing your… situation.”

“So I’ve heard,” Caelen replied coldly. “Though I find it curious that I, as the subject of this discussion, was not formally summoned.”

“An oversight,” the king said dismissively. “Please, join us. Though I’m afraid your… companion… must wait outside. This is a closed council.”

“My consort stays,” Caelen said firmly, his wings extending slightly in challenge. “As this matter concerns our bond directly.”

Murmurs rippled around the table. One elderly fairy with silver wings cleared his throat. “The prince is within his rights, Your Majesty. Tradition allows for the presence of affected parties in matters of bonding.”

The king’s expression tightened momentarily before smoothing into practiced neutrality. “Very well. Be seated, both of you.”

Two empty chairs remained at the table. Caelen guided me to one, taking the other himself. I was acutely aware of the stares from the assembled council members—some curious, some hostile, a few seemingly sympathetic.

“Now,” King Orion continued once we were seated, “as I was explaining to the council, concerning information has come to light regarding the formation of the consort bond between Prince Caelen and the human, Blake Morgan.”

“What information?” Caelen demanded.

The king gestured to Lady Ellaria, who stepped forward with a scroll. “Our court historian has been researching precedents for human-fairy unions,” she explained, her musical voice carrying easily in the chamber. “While examining the archives, she discovered this.”

She unrolled the scroll, revealing text in a shimmering script I couldn’t read.