Page 2 of Accidentally Ever After (Wings & Whispers #1)

I woke up in sheets so soft they felt like sleeping inside a cloud. For one blissful moment, I thought maybe I’d dreamed the whole fairy wedding disaster. Maybe I’d splurged on nice bedding with my catering payment.

Then I opened my eyes to a ceiling that appeared to be made of mother-of-pearl and reality came crashing back.

“Fuck me,” I groaned, pulling the impossibly soft pillow over my face.

“Is that a request or an expression of dismay?” came a smooth voice from across the room.

I yelped and sat bolt upright. Prince Caelen—my husband, apparently—stood by a set of towering windows, silhouetted against what looked like the actual Aurora Borealis.

He wore only a pair of loose silk pants that hung low on his hips, leaving his chiseled torso bare.

His wings were partially extended, catching the light in hypnotic patterns.

“Expression of dismay,” I croaked, clutching the sheet to my chest despite being fully clothed in the t-shirt and boxers I’d worn to bed. “Definitely dismay.”

Caelen’s mouth quirked. “Understandable. You’ve had quite the transition.” He moved toward the bed with that ethereal grace all fairies seemed to possess, like gravity was more of a suggestion than a law. “Did you sleep well?”

“I was unconscious as soon as I walked through that fairy circle thing,” I admitted. “What did you people do to me?”

“Realm transfer can be taxing on humans,” he said, perching at the edge of the massive four-poster bed. “Your body needed to adjust to the magical saturation of our atmosphere.”

Up close, I could see that what I’d initially taken for unusual paleness was actually a subtle pattern on his skin—swirls and whorls that caught the light like mother-of-pearl.

His eyes were even more startling in daylight (if that was indeed daylight outside and not some fairy light show)—violet with flecks of silver.

“So,” I said, trying to sound casual, “about this whole marriage thing. There’s got to be a way to undo it, right? No offense.”

His wings twitched slightly. “You wish to dissolve our union before it has even begun?”

“I didn’t even know it had begun! I thought I was signing a catering invoice!”

Caelen’s expression softened. “My father’s methods were…

unorthodox. For that, I apologize.” He ran a hand through his loose platinum hair, and I definitely did not notice how the movement made his arm muscles flex.

“However, the magical binding cannot be easily undone. The Seelie matchmakers identified you as my ideal consort, and the magic accepted our match.”

“But we don’t even know each other,” I protested.

“A circumstance we now have ample time to remedy,” he said reasonably.

I took a deep breath. “Look, I have a business. Clients. Bills. I can’t just vanish into fairyland—”

“The Autumn Court of the Seelie Realm,” he corrected again.

“Whatever! The point is, I have a life!”

“Had,” Caelen said mildly. “Your new life is here, as my consort.”

I glared at him. “And if I refuse?”

“As was explained, breaking the contract would result in your transformation into a rather unappealing amphibian. Additionally, once bound to the realm, humans cannot survive long periods in the mortal world without magical intervention.”

“So I’m trapped.”

His wings drooped slightly. “I had hoped you might come to see it as an opportunity rather than a prison sentence.”

I flopped back against the pillows. “An opportunity to what? Be eye candy for a fairy prince?”

His eyebrows rose. “You think I find you decorative?”

“Don’t you?” I snapped. “Isn’t that why your dad tricked me into signing that contract? To get his son a pretty human pet?”

Caelen’s wings flared out suddenly, nearly spanning the width of the massive bedroom. The effect was startlingly intimidating, and I instinctively pressed back against the headboard.

“I am not my father,” he said, voice low and intense. “The matchmakers identified you as compatible with me in spirit, mind, and body. Not as a pet or a plaything, but as a partner. A consort is a position of high honor in our realm.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling slightly chastened but still thoroughly freaked out. “Well… still. I didn’t consent to any of this.”

His wings folded back, and he seemed to compose himself.

“You are right. For that reason, I will not rush you. You will be given time to adjust to your new circumstances.” He stood, moving toward a door I hadn’t noticed.

“Your chambers are connected to mine, but you need not share my bed until you are willing.”

The phrasing made something flutter in my stomach that I absolutely refused to acknowledge.

“I’ve arranged for a guide to show you the palace and help you select appropriate attire,” he continued. “I have council meetings until this evening, but I would be honored if you would join me for dinner.”

“Do I have a choice?” I asked.

His lips curved in that not-quite-smile. “In this, yes. You may dine privately if you prefer.”

I sighed. “No, dinner’s fine. Maybe you can explain more about what exactly a ‘consort’ does around here.”

Something flickered in his eyes that made my heart rate spike. “Indeed. Until this evening, then.”

After he left, I explored the room—rooms, actually.

I had a suite that included the bedroom, a bathing chamber with a pool-sized tub, a dressing room, and a sitting room with bookshelves filled with volumes in languages I couldn’t read.

Everything was beautiful in that alien fairy way—materials that shouldn’t exist in those colors, furniture that seemed to have grown rather than been built, light that came from nowhere and everywhere.

A knock at the door revealed a fairy woman with butterfly wings in shades of turquoise and gold.

“Consort Morgan,” she said, bowing deeply. “I am Melronna, assigned to assist with your transition to court life.”

“Just Blake is fine,” I said, uncomfortable with the formality.

“That would be improper,” she said, looking scandalized. “You are the prince’s chosen one.”

“Yeah, about that—”

“Shall we begin with attire?” she interrupted, sweeping past me into the dressing room. “His Highness has commissioned an entire wardrobe for you, but adjustments will be needed.”

The “wardrobe” turned out to be what could only be described as sexy fairy lingerie. Gossamer shirts that were practically transparent, pants that clung like second skin, and robes that seemed designed specifically to fall open at the slightest movement.

“These are… clothes?” I asked, holding up what appeared to be a shirt made of silver spider webs.

“The finest silks from the moonworm colonies,” Melronna said proudly. “This one would complement your coloring beautifully.”

I tried on a few items, each more revealing than the last. The fabrics felt amazing against my skin—cool and warm simultaneously, like being touched by a summer breeze—but I felt ridiculous.

“Don’t you have anything more… substantial?” I asked, tugging at a shirt that kept slipping off one shoulder.

Melronna looked puzzled. “Do humans typically conceal their physical forms?”

“Generally, yeah. Especially when we first meet people.”

“But the prince has already claimed you. Why would you hide your form from him?”

I sighed. “It’s complicated. Human modesty or whatever.”

She nodded sagely. “Ah, a courtship ritual. You wish Prince Caelen to work for the privilege of seeing your form fully. How delightfully primitive.”

“That’s not exactly—”

“I shall find garments with more coverage,” she declared, disappearing into what seemed to be an endless closet. She returned with outfits that, while still more revealing than anything I’d wear on Earth, at least covered the essential bits.

After I was dressed in midnight blue pants that hugged every curve and a silver tunic that laced up the front (Melronna had insisted on leaving the top three laces undone to “honor tradition”), she led me on a tour of the palace.

To call it overwhelming would be like calling the ocean “a bit wet.” The palace seemed to be partially grown, partially built, with living trees forming columns and crystal spires catching the light from the ever-changing sky.

Everywhere we went, fairies stopped to stare at me, whispering behind delicate hands.

“Why is everyone looking at me like I’m an exhibit at the zoo?” I whispered to Melronna.

“It has been several centuries since a human was brought to court,” she explained. “And never as a royal consort. You are quite the novelty.”

“Great,” I muttered. “Just what I always wanted to be—a novelty act.”

By the time dinner approached, I was exhausted from trying to remember the names of various court officials, understanding the complex hierarchy of the Seelie Court, and mostly from sucking in my stomach all day in these clingy fairy clothes.

Melronna escorted me to what she called the “informal dining chamber,” which was still the size of a ballroom, with a ceiling that appeared to be open to the star-filled sky above.

Prince Caelen was already there, rising as I entered. He’d changed into formal attire—a midnight blue tunic embroidered with silver constellations that matched my outfit suspiciously well, and fitted black pants. His hair was partly braided back, showing off those pointed ears and sharp cheekbones.

Why does he have to be so damn beautiful? I thought bitterly. It would be easier to maintain my righteous indignation if he looked like a troll.

“Consort Morgan,” he said, bowing slightly. “You look… remarkable.”

“Thanks,” I said awkwardly. “Melronna helped.”

“She has excellent taste.” His eyes lingered on the open lacing at my throat, and I resisted the urge to tug it closed.

Dinner was served by silent attendants who seemed to appear and disappear like smoke.

The food was incredible—familiar enough to be recognizable but with flavors I couldn’t begin to describe.

The wine (at least I assumed it was wine) filled my veins with gentle warmth and made the edges of my anxiety soften.