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

by Heather Fawcett

He tucked his hands into his vest pockets and leaned back in his chair in what I have come to see as his Department Head posture.

I understand now why the folklore of the Alps is so rich—the many folds and crevices in the mountainsides could hide any number of faerie doors opening onto dozens of stories.

I understand the office of queen will be mine for the taking, should I want it.” “Yours and no one else’s,” he said, reaching for my hand.

I can't handle them lol

every time I learn something new about Wendell’s cat, it makes me less inclined to make her acquaintance,

Naturally, it is now as snug as the winter den of some fanatically hygienic bear.

Useless, temperamental little monsters, the lot of them.” “A characterization solely applicable to the common fae, I’m sure,”

“Is there anything I can do?” “Yes,” he murmured. “Say that you’ll marry me.”

With its uncertain proportions and ghostly atmosphere, it struck me as the sort of faerie-made place into which one could disappear like spare change into a sofa.

The faerie laughed. “How stupid mortals are!” Which I know from experience is often a faerie’s way of saying yes.

“I believe the best gift would be your continued absence from Ljosland,” I replied. “Poe seems to prefer to admire you from afar.

He drew back, examining me with a perplexed smile. “I like the way you talk. And everything else about you, in fact. Is that not clear by now?”

🥹❤️

“Other women snore, or talk in their sleep. I don’t recall ever being woken by the sound of vigorous pencil scratching.”

“Only you would put footnotes in your diary,” was his only comment.

For the Folk are terrible indeed, monsters or tyrants or both, but are they not also ridiculous?

“That was a very silly story,” I said. “Was it supposed to cheer me up?”

My guilt had not lessened, but there was hope mixed up with it now.

even though I was reasonably certain my hunch was correct, “reasonably certain” is not an ideal scenario where potential faerie monsters are concerned.

“Oh, damn your faerie logic to hell.”

If the lesson I was meant to learn was that I was too close to the Folk, that I trusted in them too much, then I would refuse to learn it where Shadow was concerned.

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

Well, if he wanted romance and high drama, he should have asked Danielle de Grey to marry him.

Bloody Wendell! Naturally he could have me tearing my hair out even when he was unconscious.

Probably off breathing frost against the villagers’ windows or sharpening the icicles, or whatever it was the winter Folk did for amusement when the world rolled round to their season.

“What the bloody hell,” I exclaimed, too incensed to be more articulate.

whenever Shadow ate a spider, which he is disturbingly fond of.

😭

I don’t know if I have ever felt more out of my depth than I did hunting for that bloody cat.

When I finally found her, I do not think it was through any skill of mine, but rather because the creature decided that she would not mind being found.

The cat gave me what I can only describe as a withering look.

It was a little like trying to maintain a grip on a bag of wasps.

Nor did I think Wendell was different from other Folk, particularly—kinder, less enigmatic, or somehow more human. I simply didn’t care. I loved him, and I suspected that I would grow to love this beautiful, horrifying place if given the chance. I wanted the chance. I wanted Faerie, its every secret and its every door.

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

And why is it that my enemies always come at me when I am tired and hungry? Why cannot I deal with my stepmother’s hirelings on a full stomach, having had a good night’s rest in some comfortable bed?

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.

in order to be surprised, I could not have known already that you are capable of anything.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But I do not believe I could ever be frightened of someone who cannot stir out of doors if his cloak has a wrinkle.”

And then we will proceed into Wendell’s realm all together, an army of miscellaneous nightmares.

Naturally, I am beside myself with excitement to be returning to Wendell’s realm. No, I have not forgotten the horrors that I endured there, which nearly included a descent into madness. Truly, there is something wrong with me.