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

by Heather Fawcett

“Ðangssaus,” Finn said. “My father thought you might enjoy it. It’s a kind of—” He searched for words. “Relish? Made from seaweed. It’s for toast.”

If you do not admit kindness from others, you cannot be surprised when they fail to offer any.”

would questioning him lighten the sadness or make it worse? Should I (oh, God) attempt to hug him?

Anyway, I did not much want to fight him—he looked a mean sort, and I was resentful that after all the effort I’d expended, here was yet another trial to keep me from my supper—so

“Oh dear,” he said. “That’s how I know you’ve really and truly been enchanted—you are getting mushy. You will kill me later if I enjoy the moment, so I’ll leave you to profess your gratitude to the walls. And anyhow, I must finish your dress.”

If I frightened my cat as I had Shadow, she’d ignore me for days, or possibly put a curse on me, but then cats have self-respect.

“Thank you,” and kissed his lopsided mouth. It had the effect of stunning him into silence, which I enjoyed almost as much.