Page 9 of Accidentally Ever After
He stopped walking, turning to face me fully. “Why would you think that?”
I shrugged, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “She’s one of your kind. Understands your customs. Probably knows which fork to use at fancy dinners. Doesn’t need flying lessons.”
Caelen studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, in a movement almost too quick to follow, he reached out and caught my hand in his.
“Blake,” he said, his voice lower and more intense than I’d heard it before, “the matchmakers do not make errors. If they selected you, it is because you possess qualities that complement me in ways Lady Ellaria and her kind never could.” His thumb traced small circles on my palm, sending shivers up my arm. “Your difference is not a liability. It is precisely what makes you valuable.”
The sincerity in his voice made my chest tighten. “You don’t even know me,” I said, but it came out weaker than I intended.
“I am learning,” he countered, stepping closer. “I know you value honesty. You face fear with humor. You see beauty where others might not.” His free hand rose to touch my face, cool fingers tracing my cheekbone. “And when you flew with me last night, you trusted me despite every reason not to.”
I swallowed hard, unable to look away from his hypnotic gaze. “That’s not much to base a marriage on.”
“It is a beginning,” he said simply. Then, his hand still cupping my face, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against my forehead—a touch so light I might have imagined it if not for the tingling warmth it left behind.
He released me and stepped back, leaving me slightly dazed. “Now,” he said, his tone lightening, “would you care to see the moonbloom pond? The flowers only open for those they deem worthy.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and followed him deeper into the gardens. My forehead still tingled where his lips had touched, and the ghost of his thumb tracing circles on my palm seemed burned into my skin.
It’s just the magic bond, I repeated to myself. But with each passing hour, I was finding that harder to believe.
The moonbloom pond turned out to be a secluded grotto hidden behind a curtain of luminescent vines. Inside, a small pool of silver-blue water reflected the strange light from above, and floating on its surface were closed buds that looked like water lilies made of mother-of-pearl.
“They’re beautiful,” I said, kneeling at the edge of the pond.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Caelen replied, kneeling beside me. “Place your hand just above the water’s surface.”
I did as instructed, holding my palm a few inches above the still pool. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, one of the closed buds drifted toward my hand. As it approached, the petals began to unfurl, revealing an interior that glowed with soft blue light.
“It likes you,” Caelen said, sounding pleased.
“How can a flower like someone?” I asked, fascinated as more buds began drifting toward us, opening as they came.
“Moonblooms respond to genuine souls,” he explained. “They can sense deception or malice. Many courtiers cannot get a single bloom to open for them.”
“So they’re like flowery lie detectors,” I said, watching as a particularly large bloom opened directly beneath my hand.
“In a manner of speaking,” he agreed. He placed his own hand near mine, and several more blooms opened in response, their glow intensifying.
“They really like you,” I observed.
“I am their prince,” he said with a hint of humor. “They are obligated to like me.”
“I doubt these flowers care about royal titles,” I said. “They just know you’re decent.”
He looked surprised, then pleased. “You think me decent?”
“Well, you haven’t had me executed for sassing Lady Fancy Wings, so that’s a point in your favor.”
He laughed, the sound echoing softly in the grotto. “I find your ‘sassing’ refreshing.”
As we knelt there, hands hovering over the increasingly radiant flowers, I became acutely aware of how close we were—shoulders nearly touching, his wing occasionally brushing against my back in a way that seemed almost deliberate.
“Can I ask you something?” I said, watching the blooms pulse with light.
“Anything.”
“Your wings… they seem really sensitive. When I accidentally touched one at the wedding, you reacted like…” I trailed off, unsure how to politely say ‘like I’d touched somewhere inappropriate.’
