Page 9 of Accidentally Ever After (Wings & Whispers #1)

Three weeks into my unexpected life as a fairy consort, I found myself standing in front of a full-length mirror, barely recognizing myself. Gone were my comfortable human clothes, replaced by traditional Seelie formal wear that left me feeling simultaneously overdressed and underdressed.

The ensemble consisted of fitted black pants made of some material that moved like liquid shadow, soft leather boots that came to mid-calf, and the real showstopper—a tunic of midnight blue silk that shimmered with embedded crystals that caught the light with each movement.

The tunic was sleeveless, showing off my arms (which Caelen had assured me were very appealing by fairy standards), and featured an open back that would have been scandalous for human formal wear but was apparently the height of fashion for consorts.

“The open back honors your prince’s wings,” Melronna had explained while fitting me. “It suggests your bodies join completely when embracing.”

The sexual implications had made me blush, but I had to admit—the outfit looked good. Different, alien, but good.

“You clean up well for a human,” came a familiar voice from the doorway.

Caelen leaned against the frame, watching me with those hypnotic violet eyes.

He was already dressed in his own formal attire—black pants similar to mine but with silver embroidery down the sides, boots that came higher on his calves, and a tunic that matched mine in color but featured elaborate silver armor over the shoulders and chest. His hair was partially braided back, silver threads woven through the platinum strands, and a circlet of white gold rested on his brow.

“Thanks,” I said, still fidgeting with the tunic’s high collar. “I feel like I’m playing dress-up.”

“You look like you belong,” he countered, entering the room fully. His wings were partially extended, a sign of the pleasure he took in my appearance. “The court will be impressed.”

Things between us had been… complicated since our conversation about the Spring Conjunction. We still shared meals, still talked, still occasionally shared a bed when the physical attraction became too much to resist. But there was a new hesitancy between us, a careful distance maintained.

“That’s the goal, right?” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “Impress the stuffy fairies, convince them I’m not completely hopeless as a consort?”

“Something like that,” he agreed, coming to stand behind me. His hands settled lightly on my shoulders, his reflection meeting mine in the mirror. “Tonight is important, Blake. Many of those attending have the king’s ear. Their impressions matter.”

“No pressure,” I muttered.

His lips curved slightly. “You will do fine. Just remember Thaelon’s lessons.”

“Bow to the quarter for lesser nobles, slight nod for equals, don’t speak until spoken to, don’t pick my nose in public,” I recited.

“I don’t recall that last one being in Thaelon’s curriculum,” Caelen said, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“I added it myself. Seemed important.”

He laughed, the sound still doing funny things to my insides even after weeks of hearing it. His hands squeezed my shoulders gently. “Your humor is one of your most charming qualities, though perhaps employ it selectively tonight.”

“I’ll save my best material for you,” I promised.

Something warm flickered in his eyes. “I look forward to it.” His hands slid down my arms in a casual caress. “There is one more element to complete your ensemble.”

He produced a small box from inside his tunic, opening it to reveal what appeared to be an ear cuff made of the same white gold as his circlet.

“A gift,” he said, lifting it from the box. “May I?”

I nodded, and he carefully attached the cuff to my right ear. It was surprisingly comfortable, curving along the shell of my ear in a way that accentuated its rounded, human shape rather than trying to mimic the pointed fairy ears.

“In our culture, consorts traditionally wear a token of their bonded’s rank,” Caelen explained. “This marks you as mine.”

The possessive statement sent a shiver down my spine. “It’s beautiful,” I said, touching it gently. “Thank you.”

“It suits you,” he said, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror.

For a moment, that careful distance between us seemed to evaporate, and I could see something vulnerable in his gaze.

Then he stepped back, composing himself.

“We should go. It would not do to be late to your first formal court function.”

The great hall of the Autumn Palace had been transformed for the evening’s banquet.

The usual crystalline walls now pulsed with warm amber light, and the ceiling seemed to have been replaced by a canopy of autumn leaves in impossible colors—scarlet, gold, purple, and blue—that shifted and rustled though there was no wind.

Tables draped in midnight blue and silver stretched the length of the hall, already filling with fairy courtiers in their finery. At the far end, a raised dais held the high table where the king would sit with his closest advisors and family.

As Caelen and I entered, a hush fell over the gathered fairies, all eyes turning to assess us. I straightened my shoulders, remembering Thaelon’s endless coaching on proper posture.

“His Royal Highness, Prince Caelen Luminaris of the Autumn Court,” announced a herald by the door, his voice magically amplified. “And his consort, Blake Morgan of the Mortal Realm.”

Caelen’s hand rested lightly at the small of my back—a gesture of support I deeply appreciated as we processed through the hall. Courtiers bowed as we passed, though I noted some bows were deeper than others, and several nobles barely inclined their heads at all.

“Factions,” Caelen murmured, sensing my observation. “Those who bow deeply support my policies. The others are my father’s traditional allies.”

“Your father has more allies than you do,” I whispered back.

“For now,” he said cryptically.

We reached the dais and took our places at the high table, to the right of the king’s empty seat. As we settled, I became aware of whispers spreading through the hall, eyes darting between me and someone approaching from a side entrance.

Lady Ellaria glided toward the high table, a vision in crystalline splendor.

Her gown—if it could be called that—appeared to be made of living crystal that flowed like water around her perfect form.

Her stained-glass wings were fully extended, catching the light dramatically, and her pale hair was adorned with what looked like diamond dewdrops.

“Subtle,” I muttered under my breath.

Caelen’s lips twitched. “Ellaria has never favored understatement.”

She reached the high table and curtseyed deeply to the empty throne, then turned to Caelen with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Your Highness,” she said, her musical voice carrying. “You look magnificent this evening.”

“Lady Ellaria,” Caelen acknowledged with a nod. “Your attire is, as always, striking.”

Her eyes flicked to me, taking in my formal wear with a barely concealed sneer. “And Consort Morgan. How… interesting… to see you embracing our ways. The tunic is almost adequate.”

Before I could respond with something that would definitely get me turned into a toad, trumpets sounded, announcing the king’s arrival. The entire hall rose as King Orion entered, his massive wings fully extended in a display of power that seemed unnecessary but very on-brand.

The king took his place at the center of the high table, with Lady Ellaria seated to his left—a position of honor that made her smile smugly in my direction. Other high-ranking courtiers filled in the remaining seats, and the feast began.

Course after course of fairy delicacies appeared—foods that defied human description, glowing, shifting, occasionally moving on the plate.

I’d grown accustomed to fairy cuisine over the weeks, learning which items were safe for human consumption and which might cause interesting side effects.

Still, I ate cautiously, hyperaware of the eyes watching for any misstep.

“You are doing well,” Caelen murmured after I successfully navigated a particularly challenging dish that required specific eating implements. “The court is impressed by your adaptation.”

“I had a good teacher,” I replied, meaning both him and Thaelon.

“Indeed you did,” came Lady Ellaria’s voice from across the table. She had apparently been eavesdropping. “Though one wonders how much true understanding accompanies the rote memorization of our customs.”

“Understanding comes with time,” Caelen said before I could respond. “Something my consort has had precious little of, yet has used remarkably well.”

“Of course,” she said, smile still fixed in place. “One must make allowances for… limited capacities.”

I felt Caelen tense beside me, his wings shifting in irritation. Before he could speak, I placed a hand lightly on his arm.

“Limited capacities are challenging,” I agreed pleasantly. “I’m grateful for your understanding of your own, Lady Ellaria.”

There was a moment of stunned silence before someone down the table hastily turned a laugh into a cough. Ellaria’s perfect features froze, her wings stiffening.

“You mistake my meaning, Consort Morgan,” she said, voice brittle.

“Do I?” I asked innocently. “My apologies. Human misunderstanding, I’m sure.”

Caelen’s wing brushed against my back—a subtle gesture of approval that warmed me more than any verbal praise could have.

“Perhaps,” King Orion interjected smoothly, “we might discuss matters of broader interest. The preparations for the Spring Conjunction, for instance.”

The conversation shifted to diplomatic concerns, and I was grateful to be temporarily forgotten. I focused on my food, trying to recall everything Thaelon had taught me about formal dining etiquette.