Page 19 of Accidentally Ever After
“Very well,” the king said finally. “I shall leave his preparation in your hands. But be warned—the other courts will not be as forgiving of human… inadequacies… as you seem to be.”
Caelen’s wings flared wider, a clear display of anger, but his voice remained controlled. “Thank you for your concern, Father. If that is all, Blake and I have matters to attend to.”
Without waiting for dismissal, Caelen turned, his hand still on my back, guiding me toward the exit. The court parted before us like water, whispers following in our wake.
Once we were safely in a private corridor, Caelen’s controlled facade cracked. His wings trembled with barely suppressed rage, and the patterns on his skin glowed with agitation.
“I apologize,” he said, voice tight. “I should have anticipated this. My father’s games are typically more subtle, but he must be truly concerned to act so openly.”
“He doesn’t like me very much,” I observed, trying for lightness but failing.
Caelen’s expression softened as he looked at me. “His approval is irrelevant. The bond is between us, not him.”
“He said something about my human ‘essence’ weakening the throne,” I said, the words still stinging despite my attempt to dismiss them. “Is that true?”
Caelen sighed, leading me to a window alcove where we could speak privately. “It is a very old belief, from a time when the barriers between realms were more permeable and interspecies unions more common. Some traditionalists still hold that a ruler’s power is influenced by their consort’s nature.”
“So it’s fairy racism,” I translated.
A surprised laugh escaped him. “An oversimplification, but not entirely inaccurate. The truth is, there is little evidence for such claims. The last human-fairy royal union was centuries ago, and that reign was prosperous by all accounts.”
“Why does it matter so much to him?” I asked. “Is he really that worried about you being magically contaminated by my human cooties?”
Caelen’s expression grew thoughtful. “I suspect his concern is more political than magical. A human consort represents change—an opening to the mortal realm, new perspectives, potential shifts in policy. My father has ruled the same way for millennia. Change threatens him.”
“So I’m a political statement,” I said, not sure how I felt about that.
“You are far more than that,” Caelen said firmly, taking my hand in his. “To me, at least.”
The simple statement made warmth bloom in my chest. “What’s this Spring Conjunction he mentioned?”
“A gathering of all four Seelie courts—Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. It happens once a decade, hosted by each court in rotation. This year, it is the Spring Court’s turn to host.”
“And I’ll be… presented? Like a show pony?”
His lips twitched. “Not quite so objectifying, but yes, you will be formally acknowledged as my consort before the other courts. It is… significant.”
“How significant?” I asked, suddenly suspicious.
“It would make our union official in the eyes of all Seelie. Before the conjunction, the binding could technically be dissolved by the High Council, though the process is complex. After… it becomes permanent.”
“Permanent as in forever?” I clarified, panic rising. “No take-backs, no escape clauses, just eternal fairy marriage?”
Caelen’s expression grew guarded. “You still seek an escape, then.”
It wasn’t a question, but the hurt beneath his controlled tone was unmistakable.
“I don’t know what I want,” I admitted, which was true. “This has all happened so fast, Caelen. Two weeks ago, I was just a caterer trying to make rent. Now I’m in a magical realm, married to a fairy prince, being called before the king to discuss my inadequate human essence. It’s a lot to process.”
His wings drooped slightly, but he nodded. “Of course. I should not expect you to embrace a permanent arrangement so quickly.” He released my hand, stepping back slightly. “You have time before the conjunction to consider your path. No decision must be made today.”
The withdrawal—both physical and emotional—left me feeling cold. “Caelen…”
“It is alright, Blake,” he said, his regal mask slipping back into place. “I have duties to attend to. Perhaps we might speak more at dinner?”
Before I could respond, he bowed slightly and walked away, his wings held stiffly against his back in a way I now recognized as emotional containment.
I watched him go, conflicting emotions churning in my chest. Part of me wanted to run after him, to tell him I didn’t want an escape clause, that whatever was growing between us was worth exploring further. Another part—the practical, human part—reminded me that I had a life back on Earth, a business I’d built from nothing, friends who must be wondering where I’d disappeared to.
