Page 12 of Accidentally Ever After
“Now, regarding proper addressing of the king…” Thaelon continued, but was interrupted by the chamber door opening.
Caelen entered, dressed in what I now recognized as semi-formal attire—a silver tunic with intricate embroidery that left his arms bare and emphasized his broad shoulders, and those typical fairy pants that left little to the imagination. His hair was partially braided back, revealing the sharp angles of his face.
“Your Highness,” Thaelon said, bowing deeply. “We were not expecting you.”
“Clearly,” Caelen said, his eyes finding mine with amusement. “I thought perhaps Consort Morgan might benefit from a break in his studies.”
My heart did a stupid little flip at the sight of him. We’d had dinner together each evening, but during the days he was oftenoccupied with court business while I was trapped in endless lessons.
“We still have much to cover,” Thaelon protested weakly.
“I’m sure it can wait until tomorrow,” Caelen said firmly. “Unless you wish to contradict your prince?”
Thaelon’s wings flattened against his back. “Of course not, Your Highness. We shall resume tomorrow, Consort Morgan.”
As soon as Thaelon had scurried from the room, I slumped dramatically in my chair. “My hero. Five more minutes of proper napkin folding techniques and I might have impaled myself on a salad fork.”
Caelen laughed, the sound still thrilling me after a week of hearing it. “I thought you might appreciate rescue.” He moved closer, and I caught the now-familiar scent of him—thunderstorms and wild honey. “How are your lessons progressing?”
“Well, I now know seventeen different ways to bow and the proper term for addressing the third cousin of a minor noble from the Spring Court. Crucially important information.”
“Indeed,” he said, eyes twinkling. “One never knows when one might encounter the third cousin of a minor Spring noble.”
I stood, stretching muscles stiff from sitting for hours. “Please tell me you’re breaking me out of etiquette prison for the rest of the day.”
“That was my intention.” His wings extended slightly in what I now recognized as pleased anticipation. “I thought perhaps we might continue your education in a more… practical manner.”
“Meaning?”
“There is an aspect of fairy culture Thaelon is unlikely to address,” Caelen said, stepping closer. “One I believe would benefit you to understand.”
Something in his tone made my pulse quicken. “What aspect is that?”
“Wing etiquette between… intimate partners.”
I swallowed hard. Since our kiss in the grotto, we’d maintained a careful distance—friendly, flirtatious even, but without crossing the physical boundaries I’d requested. This felt like a deliberate step across that line.
“Is this part of my official consort training?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“Consider it an elective,” he replied, his voice dropping lower. “One you are free to decline.”
I should have declined. Should have stuck to my plan of keeping emotional distance while I figured out an escape plan.
Instead, I heard myself say, “I’m interested.”
His wings fluttered slightly—that telltale tremor Thaelon had so carefully avoided explaining. “Excellent. Shall we use my private study? It offers more… discretion than the instruction chambers.”
I followed him through the palace corridors, nodding awkwardly at passing courtiers who still stared at me like an exotic zoo exhibit. Caelen led me to a wing of the palace I hadn’t explored yet, eventually stopping before an ornate door inlaid with what looked like mother-of-pearl.
Inside was a surprisingly cozy chamber—still grand by human standards, but intimate by fairy ones. Bookshelves lined the walls, comfortable seating was arranged around a fireplace burning with blue-purple flames, and large windows overlooked a private section of the gardens.
“My sanctuary,” Caelen explained, closing the door behind us. “Few are permitted entry.”
“I’m honored,” I said, meaning it. The room felt personal in a way no other space in the palace did—there were books with creased spines, a half-finished chess game on a side table, a cloak tossed casually over a chair.
“Please, make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing to the seating area.
I chose a plush armchair, sinking into cushions that seemed to mold perfectly to my body. Caelen hesitated, then chose to sit on a low couch across from me rather than crowding me. The consideration in the gesture wasn’t lost on me.
