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

by Heather Fawcett

“Dear Emily,” he said as I sat down, not troubling to lift his head from his hand but smiling at me slantwise. “You look as if you’ve come from a wrestling match with one of your books. May I ask who won?”

We are so back

“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.”

“Someone poisoned you last night,” I said bluntly. “Likely a poison brewed in your own kingdom, to ensure its efficacy.” He looked thunderstruck, then hurt. “It was my birthday party.”

Wendell, meanwhile, remained sat in his chair with the blanket over his legs, looking interested but not particularly alarmed by the proceedings. He was having tea.

“This faerie king, as Bran has termed him, does not seem to be made of strong stuff.”

BACK TF UP I WILL FIGHT YOU

“My answer is yes,” I whispered in his ear.

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

AbOuT tiMe get the cat over here

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

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.