Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands (Emily Wilde, #2)

by Heather Fawcett

“Meanwhile, I would be sleeping more soundly without a marriage proposal from a faerie king dangling over my head.” “It would cease to dangle if you accepted.” He rested his hand over mine and teasingly ran his thumb over my knuckles. “Shall I write you an essay on the subject? I can provide an extensive list of reasons to acquiesce.”

Tbh you should have accepted by now. The guy cleans, sews you magic clothes, cares, funny, incredibly good looking, enchanted your pencils, has a magic cat… and is set to become king. JUST. SAY. YES.

“Did you enchant my pencil?” I demanded. “I enchanted all of your pencils,” he said without opening his eyes. “You always have at least one upon your person. I knew they would come in handy.” He added, as I continued to stare at him, “Well, I can’t carry a bloody sword around with me everywhere,” misunderstanding entirely. “Why didn’t you enchant your own pencils?” I groused. “I would have, but I can never remember where I put them.”

LMAO 🤣

“Can’t you sense what enchantments are stored in the stones?” I demanded. “No!” I threw my hands up in frustration. “Then why do you keep on breaking them?” “Because you told me to, you lunatic!”

😂 this made me laugh so much

“There is nothing trivial about good coffee.

“I think you just want to hold hands,” I muttered, though I did not mind. “That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly.” “You aren’t a gentleman.”

“Is there anything I can do?” “Yes,” he murmured. “Say that you’ll marry me.” “God.” So he was well enough to tease me, at least—that was some relief. “Perhaps I will refuse you here and now. Disappointment in love may provide a welcome distraction from the poison.” “Only you, Em, would refer to heartbreak as a distraction. I think I would receive a more sympathetic response if I asked to marry a bookcase.”

A smile broke across his face as he saw me barrelling towards him. He opened his arm, the one not holding the light, but he underestimated the ferocity of my embrace, and we toppled backwards into the grasses. “Emily?” he said dazedly. “Surely not. I must have inadvertently summoned Danielle de Grey. My Emily would never be so flamboyant in her affections.”

“What on earth are you doing? The creases, Em, the creases—” “I’ve had enough of things being complicated between us,” I replied. “I will never stop being terrified of the prospect of marrying you. How could I? It would make me queen of a land of nightmares. But I would like to settle this side of things, at least.” “This side of—?” I kissed him matter-of-factly.

I leaned close, breathing in the smell of his hair—the salt of sweat; smoke from the fire; and the distant smell of green leaves that never left him. “My answer is yes,” I whispered in his ear.

“I believe,” I said, “that I have to fetch his bloody cat.”

Em, I must confess—I am in awe of you. I believe I am also a little frightened.

Assassins are a monstrous breed. Either they attack when you are at your worst, or they are having a go at you on your birthday. I have never known a more dishonourable profession.

How I missed you. “It was only a day!” I can hear you reply. Well, a day is far too long. Do you know? Rose asked me why I was not more surprised by your feat. He does not understand you as I do, Em, but as you seem to consider him a friend now, I told him the truth: in order to be surprised, I could not have known already that you are capable of anything.

“I will be with you,” I said quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”