Page 18 of Accidentally Ever After (Wings & Whispers #1)
“The Covenant of Seelie Bonding,” she translated, “states clearly that for a consort bond to be valid, both parties must enter into it with full knowledge and consent. Any bond formed through deception or coercion is inherently flawed and subject to dissolution by order of the High Court.”
My heart sank as I realized where this was going. Caelen’s hand found mine beneath the table, squeezing reassuringly.
“And your point, Lady Ellaria?” Caelen asked, though we both knew the answer.
“My point, Your Highness,” she said with exaggerated patience, “is that your human consort did not knowingly consent to the bond. By his own admission, he believed he was signing a catering invoice, not a marriage contract. This constitutes deception, rendering the bond invalid under ancient law.”
Murmurs broke out around the table again, some councilors nodding in agreement.
“If I may,” Caelen began, his voice controlled despite the tension I could feel radiating from him, “the initial signing may have occurred under unclear circumstances, but the bond has since been validated through multiple traditional channels. Most notably, during the Festival of Lights, where we experienced a full convergence, witnessed by hundreds.”
This revelation caused a stir among the council. Convergence during the festival was rare and considered deeply significant.
“A physical reaction does not negate the flawed foundation,” King Orion countered. “The Covenant is explicit on this point. Initial consent must be informed and freely given.”
“Then perhaps,” came a new voice from the chamber entrance, “we should ask the consort himself.”
All heads turned to see Lady Sorcha entering, her sunset-colored wings glowing in the crystal-refracted light. She approached the table with confidence, bowing respectfully to the king before addressing the council.
“Forgive my intrusion, but as Keeper of the Covenant, I believe I have relevant perspective to offer.”
I hadn’t known Lady Sorcha held such an official position. From Caelen’s surprised expression, this was news to him as well.
“The Keeper has right of address in matters of bonding,” the silver-winged councilor acknowledged.
King Orion looked displeased but nodded grudgingly. “Proceed, Lady Sorcha.”
She turned to me, her warm eyes direct. “Consort Morgan, while it appears the initial contract was signed without your full understanding, the Covenant also recognizes that bonds may be validated retroactively through affirmative choice. Do you, at this moment, freely choose to be bonded to Prince Caelen?”
I understood the significance of the question immediately. She was offering a legal loophole—a way to validate our bond despite its questionable beginnings.
“I do,” I said without hesitation, my voice stronger than I expected. “I choose Caelen, freely and with full understanding of what that means.”
Lady Sorcha nodded, seemingly satisfied, but King Orion leaned forward, his massive wings shifting restlessly.
“A convenient claim,” he said coldly. “But the human has spent two months under the influence of the bond magic, which, as we all know, creates artificial attachment. His current sentiment cannot be considered truly ‘free.’”
“That is not entirely accurate, Your Majesty,” Lady Sorcha countered. “Bond magic enhances existing compatibility but cannot create genuine affection where none exists. If Consort Morgan feels attachment now, it is because the potential was always present.”
“Regardless,” the king pressed, “there is precedent for testing such claims. The Ritual of Unbinding would temporarily suppress the bond magic, allowing the human to make a truly uninfluenced decision.”
My stomach dropped. “Ritual of Unbinding?”
“A temporary suspension of the bond’s magical effects,” Caelen explained quietly. “It would essentially… reset you to your state before the contract was signed.”
“For how long?” I asked, not liking where this was going.
“Twenty-four hours,” Lady Ellaria supplied, looking entirely too pleased. “During which time you would be returned to the mortal realm to consider your choice without magical influence.”
The implication was clear: they believed that once free of the bond’s effects and back in my own world, I would choose not to return.
“This is unnecessary,” Caelen protested, his wings now held rigidly against his back. “The convergence at the Festival of Lights proves the depth of our connection.”
“The law is the law,” King Orion said with finality. “If your bond is as genuine as you claim, your consort will choose to return. If not…” he spread his hands in a gesture of false regret, “then the match was clearly not meant to be.”
I looked around the table, reading the expressions of the council members. Some seemed uncomfortable with the king’s proposal, but most appeared to be accepting its necessity. Even Lady Sorcha looked resigned.
“When would this ritual happen?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Immediately,” the king said. “Before tomorrow’s presentation ceremony.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then the legitimacy of your bond remains in question,” he replied smoothly. “The other courts may refuse to recognize it, which would have… significant political implications.”
I understood the threat. Without formal recognition from the other courts, our position would be weakened, possibly endangering Caelen’s standing and certainly derailing our policy initiatives.
I turned to Caelen, searching his face. “What do you think?”
His expression was torn, conflict evident in the rigid set of his wings and the tension around his eyes. “I believe in our bond,” he said softly. “But I would not force you to remain if given a true choice.”
The selflessness in his statement made my decision clear. “I’ll do it,” I said, turning back to the council. “I’ll undergo the ritual.”
King Orion smiled, triumph barely concealed. “Excellent. The preparations will begin immediately. The ritual must be performed at moonrise—approximately three hours from now.”
“I wish to spend that time with my consort,” Caelen said, his tone making it clear this wasn’t a request.
“Of course,” the king conceded magnanimously. “Lady Ellaria will come for you when the ritual chamber is prepared.”
As the council meeting adjourned, Caelen led me quickly from the Crystal Chamber, his wings held so stiffly I worried they might crack. We walked in tense silence until we reached a small garden courtyard, private and empty of other fairies.
Once we were alone, he turned to me, his carefully maintained composure cracking. “Blake, I am so sorry. This is my father’s final attempt to separate us before the conjunction. I should have anticipated it.”
“It’s not your fault,” I assured him, reaching up to touch his face. “And it won’t work. I’ll go through their ritual, spend a day on Earth, and come straight back to you.”
“You don’t understand,” he said, distress evident in his voice. “The Unbinding Ritual doesn’t just temporarily suspend the bond. It erases all memory of it.”
I stared at him, stunned. “What?”
“For twenty-four hours, you will have no memory of the past two months,” he explained, his wings drooping. “You will remember everything up to the wedding, then nothing until you find yourself back on Earth. To your mind, no time will have passed.”
The implications hit me like a physical blow. “So I won’t remember you? Us? Everything we’ve shared?”
“Not during those twenty-four hours,” he confirmed, pain evident in his eyes. “The ritual creates a window of pure choice, untainted by experience or magical influence.”
“That’s not fair,” I protested. “How can I choose based on something I can’t remember?”
“That is precisely my father’s point,” Caelen said bitterly. “He believes that without the memory of our time together, you will have no reason to return.”
I paced the small courtyard, trying to process this new information. “So I’ll just… what? Wake up on Earth thinking I somehow got home after the catering job? Won’t I be confused about the missing time?”
“The ritual includes a temporary memory substitution,” he explained. “You’ll believe you simply returned home after the event and continued your normal life. Only when the twenty-four hours expire will your true memories return—if you have chosen to return to the fairy realm.”
“And if I don’t?”
His expression grew even more pained. “If you choose to remain in the mortal realm, your memories of this time will remain suppressed permanently. You will continue your human life believing these two months never happened.”
The cruelty of the arrangement took my breath away. “And you? What happens to you if I don’t come back?”
“I would retain all memories,” he said quietly. “And live with the knowledge that, given a true choice, you preferred your former life.”
I stopped pacing and moved to him, taking his hands firmly in mine. “Listen to me, Caelen. That’s not going to happen. I am coming back to you. I choose you—now, when I have all my memories, and I’ll choose you again when I don’t.”
“How can you be certain?” he asked, vulnerability evident in his voice. “Your life will be there, waiting for you. Your business, your friends, everything you missed. And you’ll have no memory of what we’ve shared to draw you back.”
I considered this, trying to think of a solution. “Can you leave me some kind of message? Something that will explain what’s happening?”
He shook his head. “The ritual prevents external influence. Any attempt to circumvent it would invalidate the test.”
“Then I’ll have to trust myself,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “Trust that whatever drew me to you in the first place—whatever the matchmakers saw—exists independently of our shared memories.”
He didn’t look convinced. “My father has arranged for the portal to return you to your apartment in the mortal realm. You will simply wake there, believing you never left. What would possibly compel you to seek return to a realm you have no memory of visiting?”
It was a valid question, and one I didn’t have a good answer for. How would I, with no memory of the past two months, know to look for a way back to the fairy realm? Why would I even want to?
“There has to be a way,” I insisted, unwilling to accept defeat. “Some loophole, some…”
A thought struck me suddenly. “The Festival of Lights. You said we had a convergence—that parts of us merged permanently.”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “The star essence created a permanent connection between us. Even in different realms, you would sense me on some level, though without your memories, you might not understand what you were feeling.”
“That’s it, then,” I said, hope rising. “I’ll feel the connection. It might not make sense to me, but I’ll feel something pulling me back to you.”
“Perhaps,” Caelen conceded, though he still looked doubtful. “But would it be enough to make you seek a way back to a place you don’t remember?”
I thought hard, trying to put myself in the position of my future memory-wiped self. What would make me believe in fairy realms? What would convince me to seek a way back to a place I had no memory of?
“The fairy circle,” I said suddenly. “In Richmond Park. That’s how I came here the first time, right? After the wedding?”
“Yes,” Caelen confirmed. “It’s one of the stable crossings between realms.”
“So all I need to do is find my way back there,” I reasoned. “If our connection is as strong as we believe, I’ll be drawn to it even without understanding why.”
It was a tenuous plan at best, relying on feelings and instincts rather than concrete strategy. But it was all we had.
“I have faith in you, Blake,” Caelen said, bringing my hands to his lips. “And in what we share. But my father has stacked the odds heavily against us.”
“When has that stopped us?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood. “We’ve been defying expectations since day one.”
A small smile touched his lips, though his eyes remained troubled. “Indeed we have.”
We spent the remaining time before the ritual wrapped in each other’s arms in our chambers, saying everything that needed to be said while we still could. I memorized the feel of his wings around me, the sound of his voice, the unique scent of him like thunderstorms and wild honey.
“Remember,” he murmured against my hair, “the convergence created a bridge between us. Follow that feeling, even if you don’t understand it. It will lead you back to me.”
“I will,” I promised. “No matter what it takes.”
When Lady Ellaria came to escort us to the ritual chamber, I felt a strange sense of calm. Whatever happened in the next twenty-four hours, I knew with bone-deep certainty that I would find my way back to Caelen. I had to.
The ritual chamber was deep beneath the palace—a circular room with walls of black obsidian that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
In the center stood a raised platform inscribed with runes that glowed with blue-white light.
King Orion waited there, along with several council members and a fairy I didn’t recognize, dressed in formal robes with silver markings.
“The Unbinder,” Caelen explained quietly. “She will perform the ritual.”
“Consort Morgan,” the king greeted me with false warmth. “Are you prepared for the trial?”
“It’s not a trial,” I corrected, meeting his gaze steadily. “It’s a formality. I’ll be back.”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “We shall see.”
The Unbinder gestured for me to step onto the platform. Before I did, I turned to Caelen one last time.
“I love you,” I said firmly, loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Remember that when I’m gone. And know that I’m coming back.”
“I love you too,” he replied, his wings extending slightly despite the formal setting. “I will be waiting.”
With that, I stepped onto the platform. The runes beneath my feet flared brighter, their light crawling up my legs like living things. The Unbinder began to chant in a language I didn’t understand, her hands weaving complex patterns in the air.
The last thing I saw before the light engulfed me completely was Caelen’s face—determined, loving, and afraid all at once. Then everything went white, and I knew no more.