Page 18 of Accidentally Ever After
“I understand you are adapting to court life,” he continued. “Learning our ways, our customs.”
“I’m trying,” I said honestly. “There’s a lot to take in.”
“Indeed.” His gaze swept over me, lingering disapprovingly on my human clothing. “And yet you resist the most basic adaptations, such as appropriate attire.”
I glanced down at my jeans and button-up. “I find these more comfortable.”
“Comfort,” he said, as if the word tasted bad. “A human preoccupation. In the Seelie Court, appearance and station are intertwined. By refusing to dress appropriately, you diminish my son’s standing.”
Anger flared in my chest, but I tamped it down. “I wasn’t aware of that, Your Majesty. I’ll take it under consideration.”
The king leaned forward slightly. “See that you do. Now, to the matter at hand. It has come to my attention that you and my son have become… intimate.”
Heat flooded my face. How the hell did he know about that? Had someone been spying on us in Caelen’s private study?
“That’s… personal,” I managed, mortified to be having this conversation in front of the entire court.
“Nothing involving the royal family is personal,” King Orion said coldly. “Particularly not when it concerns the succession.”
“Succession?” I repeated, confused.
“My son is heir to the Autumn Throne,” the king said, as if explaining to a particularly slow child. “His consort plays a role in that future. A human consort… complicates matters.”
“I don’t see how my being human affects Caelen’s ability to rule,” I said, forgetting formality in my confusion.
Titters of laughter rippled through the watching courtiers. Lady Ellaria’s smile widened, something cruel in her eyes.
“Of course you don’t,” the king said dismissively. “You are ignorant of our ways. In Seelie tradition, the consort’s essence mingles with the ruler’s over time, influencing their magic and their reign. A human essence…” he paused, his disgust evident, “would weaken the throne.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said before I could stop myself. “Caelen is still Caelen, regardless of who he’s with.”
The temperature in the throne room seemed to drop several degrees. The king’s wings extended slightly, a gesture I now recognized as aggression.
“You dare question our most sacred traditions?” he asked, voice dangerously soft.
I opened my mouth to backpedal, but before I could speak, the throne room doors opened with a resonant boom.
Caelen strode in, dressed in full formal regalia—a midnight blue tunic with silver armor over it, his hair elaborately braided with silver threads, a circlet of what looked like white gold resting on his brow. His wings were fully extended, nearly spanning the width of the wide aisle, and his expression was thunderous.
“Father,” he said, his voice carrying easily in the hushed room. “I was not informed of this audience.”
King Orion’s expression remained impassive, but his wings twitched in what might have been irritation. “I was not aware I needed your permission to speak with your consort.”
“Permission, no,” Caelen said, coming to stand beside me. “Courtesy, yes.” He placed a hand on the small of my back, the touch both possessive and supportive. “What matter is so urgent it requires ambushing Blake before a full court?”
The casual use of my first name was clearly deliberate—a statement of intimacy and defiance.
“We were discussing appropriate behavior for a royal consort,” the king said coolly. “Including proper attire and respect for our traditions.”
Caelen’s hand remained steady on my back. “My consort is still learning our ways. I find his progress admirable, given the circumstances of his arrival.”
The subtle emphasis on “circumstances” was not lost on the king, whose wings twitched again.
“Be that as it may,” King Orion continued, “there are expectations that must be met. Traditions that must be honored. The Spring Conjunction approaches, and your consort will be formally presented to the other courts. He must be prepared.”
“And he will be,” Caelen said firmly. “Under my guidance, not through public interrogation.”
The tension between father and son was palpable, the air practically crackling with it. I had the distinct impression I was witnessing a power struggle that had been brewing long before I entered the picture.
