The Lost Sisters (The Folk of the Air, #1.5)

by Holly Black

Or maybe it’s another horror story. It seems like the difference is mostly in where the ending comes.

Fairy tales have a moral: Stay on the path. Don’t trust wolves. Don’t steal things, not even things you think no normal person would care about. Share your food but don’t trust people who want to share their food with you; don’t eat their shiny red apples, nor their candy houses, nor any of it. Be nice, always nice, and polite to everyone: kings and beggars, witches and wounded bears. Don’t break a promise. Be bold, be bold, but not too bold. It’s important that we learn the lessons our mother didn’t.

She turned to me, head tilted, her expression pure confusion. As though I had no reason to be afraid of a broken heart. She had no idea how dangerous a broken heart could be. You do, though. You know.

I have never seen a look like that on anyone’s face before, a look of such pure malice that I took an involuntary step back. You had the nerve to grin at him.

You know what fascinates me about you? You’re a hungry person sitting in front of a banquet, refusing to eat.”

“Envy. Fear. Anger. Jealousy. They’re all spices.” He laughed at my expression. “What is bread without salt? Desire can grow just as plain.”

It’s terrible to be a girl trapped in a story. But you can be more than that. You can be the teller. You can shape the story. You can make all of Faerie love you.”