Page 35 of Accidentally Ever After
By the time dawn lightened the sky, we had explored every possibility the festival paint offered, discovering new depths of pleasure and connection that transcended the physical. When we finally made our way back to the palace, painted skin now merely shimmering rather than glowing, I was exhausted but filled with a contentment so profound it felt like physical weight in my chest.
“The paint will fade within a day,” Caelen explained as we collapsed into his bed, limbs tangled comfortably together. “Though the connection it facilitated remains.”
“Good,” I mumbled, already drifting toward sleep. “Don’t think I could handle walking around that sensitive all the time.”
His chuckle was the last thing I heard before sleep claimed me, his wing a comforting weight across my body, his heart beating steadily against mine.
When I woke many hours later, the painted patterns had indeed faded to faint traces on our skin. But something of the connection remained—a heightened awareness of Caelen, as if part of him now resided within me and vice versa.
“A side effect of the convergence,” he explained when I asked about it. “The star essence we shared created a permanent bridge between us. Distance will not sever it now.”
“So I’ll always be able to feel you?” I clarified, not sure if the prospect was comforting or slightly alarming.
“Not thoughts or specific emotions,” he assured me. “More a general awareness—knowing if I am well or in distress, sensing my approximate location relative to yours. It is meant to ensure bonded pairs can find each other if separated.”
I considered this. “That’s actually pretty useful. Like fairy GPS.”
He laughed, still delighted by my human references even when he didn’t fully understand them. “Something like that, yes.”
As we dressed for the day—back in our regular clothes rather than festival attire—I caught him watching me with an expression of quiet wonder.
“What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious.
“I am simply… happy,” he admitted, the simple statement carrying surprising weight. “Happier than I believed possible.”
I crossed to him, rising on tiptoes to kiss him lightly. “Me too. Who knew accidentally marrying a fairy prince would work out so well?”
His arms encircled my waist, wings extending to wrap around us both in that embrace I’d grown to love. “The matchmakers knew,” he said with absolute certainty. “They always do.”
For once, I didn’t argue with his faith in fairy matchmaking. After last night, I was inclined to believe a little more in destiny myself.
Chapter 9
“The Spring Court caravan has been spotted at the eastern border,” Melronna reported, her butterfly wings fluttering with excitement. “They will arrive by nightfall.”
“And the Summer delegation?” Caelen asked, reviewing the elaborate scrolls spread across the table in our chambers.
“Already settled in the South Wing,” Melronna confirmed. “The Winter Court representatives send word they are delayed by adverse conditions in the Frost Passes but expect to arrive by tomorrow’s midday.”
I listened to these reports with growing anxiety, fidgeting with the formal tunic Melronna had laid out for my “official presentation” the following evening. After two months in the fairy realm, I’d grown somewhat accustomed to court life, but the Spring Conjunction represented a new level of scrutiny—and finality.
Once I was formally presented to the four courts as Caelen’s consort, our union would be irrevocable by fairy law. The binding that had begun with a misunderstood signature and deepened through our physical and emotional connection would become permanent in every sense.
It should have terrified me. Two months ago, it would have. But now, after everything we’d shared—especially since the Festival of Lights—the prospect of a permanent life with Caelen filled me more with anticipation than dread.
Still, there was a small, nagging doubt I couldn’t quite silence. Not about Caelen, but about what I was giving up. My business. My apartment. My human friends who probably thought I’d disappeared off the face of the earth. My entire former life.
“Blake?” Caelen’s voice broke through my brooding. “Are you well?”
I realized Melronna had left, and Caelen was watching me with concern, his wings held in that slightly rigid position that indicated worry.
“Just nervous about tomorrow,” I said, which wasn’t entirely a lie. “Lots of important fairies judging my every move.”
He approached, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. “You have mastered our customs admirably. The other courts will find no fault in you.”
“Except the whole being human thing,” I pointed out.
“That,” he said with surprising firmness, “is an asset, not a liability. Your perspective has already influenced court policy for the better.”
