Page 21 of Accidentally Ever After
“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 hereyes. “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.
As the meal progressed, I became aware of a subtle shift in the atmosphere. Courtiers who had previously ignored me began glancing my way with what appeared to be reassessment. My small victory over Ellaria had apparently earned me a measure of respect—or at least curiosity.
After the main courses were cleared, the king rose, signaling a change in the evening’s proceedings. Servants cleared thecenter of the hall, and musicians appeared on a small dais I hadn’t noticed before.
