Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries (Emily Wilde, #1)

by Heather Fawcett

You would not think a scarf could be tailored, until you met Bambleby.

If anyone were to claim greater happiness in their careers than I do in poking about sunlit wildwoods for faerie footprints, I should not believe it.

“He’s prettier when he’s asleep, eh? You don’t notice that big mouth of his.”

I grow increasingly convinced that he obtained his doctorate by means of faerie enchantment, so difficult is it to imagine him applying himself to anything resembling work.

I’m afraid I was not much used to doing things for myself back then, and that included thinking.

Now, I have never been shot before, so we will have to add it to the list of pleasures I have experienced since making your acquaintance.

It’s a pity sword fighting isn’t de rigueur in the mortal world anymore. I could end every tedious argument with the department head by challenging him to a contest in the quadrangle.

“One doesn’t need magic if one knows enough stories.”

How was it that in trying to remove my foot from my mouth, I invariably managed to shove it in even deeper?

“One? That’s it? I’ve been with more men than that, and I don’t even like them.

girl😭

“You couldn’t be any less helpful if you tried. I think you are trying.”

“Oh, Em,” he said forlornly. “You are the cleverest dolt I have ever met.”

No, Em, you will come with me, and we will rule my kingdom together. You will scheme and strategize until you have all my councillors eating out of your hand as easily as you do Poe, and I will show you everything—everything. We will travel to the darkest parts of my realm and back again, and you will find answers to questions you have never even thought to ask, and enough material to fill every journal and library with your discoveries.”

this is the most romantic thing I've ever heard😭

the Folk, who dole out information like a miser does his coin excepting the occasions when they provide more enlightenment than one would care for,

How was it that I suddenly had faerie kings, plural, demanding to marry me?

Kindness. Generosity. Forgiveness.” He winced. “I admit, I struggle with these things myself.

I could have thrown my arms around him. Indeed, I almost did, but for some perverse reason, I found myself needing to argue with him instead.

I could not tell if he was terrible at drawing cats or if he simply had a terrible cat.

I suspect the latter lol

“How does one manage to affix toast to the ceiling?” I demanded. This had not been the most offensive example of the kitchen’s disorder, but it was the most perplexing.

They are coming to rescue me. I am not alone.

But you might say,” he added, examining his hands, “that I did most of the work.” “I would certainly not say that.”

Naturally, Wendell, in typical faerie fashion, had given Lilja a “gift” that created more problems than it solved.

Many of them wore their coats, for if there is one thing that unites scholars, it is complaining about the temperature of conference rooms.

“And just think—if you’d finished mulling over my proposal by now and said yes, we could have introduced you as Mrs. Wendell Bambleby. They would never stop talking about us.”