Heather Fawcett Quotes

“For now, to keep myself sane, let me focus instead on the bluebells carpeting the forest floor; the misty sunlight that broke through the clouds, blurring the edges of things and turning the world to watercolors. The occasional glint of silver from the treetops. These are indeed baubles--- I climbed up into one of the oaks to check--- but larger than the ones mortals place on Yuletide trees, globes of delicate silver, hollow and light as eggshells. Something about them put me in mind of faerie stones, and I hastily released the bauble to drift back into the trees, among which it hovered like a puff of mist, disdaining the notion of gravity.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Silver Forest Fairyland Lupi Silva Baubles

“But before the sword could fall, there was a flash of black, a shadow rising from a hollow in the ground. Orga twined around Taran's feet, and he staggered, falling onto one knee. His sword sliced harmlessly through the air by Wendell's shoulder. "What's this?" Taran demanded. Then, to my astonishment, he added in a tone of affection, "Betrayal? I kept this one fed during your absence, Prince. I have always liked cats. It seems she has changed her mind about me, though." "Orga cares even less for my enemies than I do," Wendell said unevenly. "After this, you can expect her to spend the rest of her days orchestrating your demise.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Cat Familiar Protector Mythical Creatures

“Perhaps you can burrow down into the turf and make from the moss a quilt, as the rhyme goes, but I cannot."* *Pillows made of stones, Bed of old kings' bones, Quilt of moss and earth, Deep beneath the turf, Sleeps the faerie child, Dreaming of the wild, Hidden and unknown. --- From "Now the Faeries Sleep," a nursery rhyme originating in Kent, c. 1700.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

Bed Earthy Nursery Rhyme

“I followed his gaze on my pillow, upon which rested a thing I did not recognize, woolen and oddly shaped. I seized it abruptly, indignant. It was my jumper! "How---what have you---" "I'm sorry," he said, not looking up from the flicker and flash of the needle. "But you cannot expect me to live in close proximity to clothing that barely deserves the word. It is inhumane." I shook out the jumper, gaping. I could hardly tell it was the same garment. Yes, it was the same color, but the wool itself seemed altered, becoming softer, finer, without losing any of its warmth. And it was not a baggy square anymore; it would hang only a little loose on me now, while clearly communicating the lines of my figure. "From now on, you will keep your damned hands off my clothes!" I snapped, then flushed, realizing how that sounded. Bambleby took no notice of any of it. "Do you know that there are men and women who would hand over their firstborns to have their wardrobes tended by a king of Faerie?" he said, calmly snipping a thread. "Back home, every courtier wanted a few moments of my time." "King?" I repeated, staring at him. And yet I was not hugely surprised---it would explain his magic. A king or queen of Faerie, the stories say, can tap into the power of their realm. Yet that power, while vast, is not thought to be limitless, there are tales of kings and queens falling for human trickery. And Bambleby's exile is of course additional testimony.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Royalty Faeries Sewing Clothing Mended

“No, Emily--- it was you I worried about. From the first rumors I heard of you, of your cleverness, your high regard for my silly son, I knew you were the real threat. Mortals always are, aren't they? If you read the stories. The arrogant faerie prince who can make gold from straw is always undone by the humble miller's daughter, not some powerful rival of his own stature." My stomach grew queasy. I had never felt so out of my depth when conversing with one of the Folk, not even the snow king of Ljosland. Wendell had been right, but it was no comfort to know that his stepmother had been afraid of me. I am used to being underestimated by the Folk--- nothing could be more dangerous than the opposite.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

Threat Heroine Confronting Fears Evil Stepmother

“Egilson was prompt in preparing our supper, which was accompanied by a dozen buns and, perhaps as a form of apology for the lack of apple tart, a basket of greyish-blue fruits aptly named iceberries. Finn delivered the lot, along with his apologies---there were no apples to be had in Hrafnsvik, and he had no experience with bread pudding, but he hoped we would enjoy his briòsupa, which he and Krystjan guessed to be the closest Ljoslander approximation. It was made with rye bread and plenty of cinnamon, cream, and raisins, and smelled divine.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Dessert Local Food

“I spotted Poe immediately. He was raking the leaves around his tree home, a lovely aspen. The whiteness of its bark seemed brighter than the other trees, the knotholes darker; the moss creeping up the south side was luxurious with fat purple flowers, and the leaves were a riot of green in every shade with veins of pure gold. It was, in short, the prettiest tree in the Kyrrðarskogur, which was Wendell's doing, but Poe was clearly taking his responsibilities as the owner of such a fine specimen seriously. He had built a trellis against the tree, up which climbed a vine of wild roses, and he had made little furrows in the ground to irrigate the tree's roots.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

Gardening Faerie Old Friend Birch Tree

“Did you realize you were capable of inspiring affection in others?" "Only narcissists and layabouts, I thought." He leaned back, a smile playing on his mouth. "You know, Em, you could make life so much easier for yourself if you tried to be liked once in a while.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Likable

“The Winter Gardener" is a similar tale, with the titular gardener replacing the shoemaker, but in this story, the gardener is merely a mortal woman who does not possess a secret identity. After the queen sacrifices herself to save her realm, the gardener plants a snowdrop over her grave, which grows as large as a tree and scatters its seeds across the realm; the tale is often used as an explanation for the perceived advantages of Irish snowdrops over those of other countries.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

Gardener Irish Folklore Footnote Snowdrop

“We stood upon a hill, green and studded with pale stones. Below us was forest, bluebells undulating among the trees, a tide of purple dissolving into shadow. There was a lake-- no, two lakes, the second a mere line of glitter in the distance. At our back, behind the nexus and extending to the northern horizon, were mountains of indigo and layered shadow, some darkened to black by the moody sky overhead, some greyed and smudged by shafts of sunlight. Must I even say it? It was beautiful--- of course it was. The forest in particular, which glinted here and there with silver as the wind rode the branches, as if someone had clambered into the canopy to hang baubles. And yet I had the sense that I was not seeing the entirety of it, that the shadows were thicker here, more obscuring, than those in the mortal realm, and many of the details were clouded by a dreamlike haze. Even now, as I write these words--- I am still in Wendell's kingdom!--- I find the memory of that view trying to slip from my mind like a bird darting through the boughs, so that I catch only the flickering edge of it. Perhaps there is some enchantment embedded in the place, or perhaps it is simply too much for my mortal eyes to take in. Where the Trees Have Eyes.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

Lakes Forest Shadows Fairyland Lupi Silva

“The resulting garment was black, of course. But it was like no fabric I'd ever seen before, liquid and faintly glimmering. He had ordered each of his guardians to donate several of their feathers, and these he had woven into the material. They were not visible exactly, except as a suggestion of wings when the cloak caught the wind. It was a garment that needed no adornment, for it was like something snipped out of a dream, and he gave it none, apart from the row of buttons. I would have expected him to pick the finest of those I had gathered, but instead he chose a selection that would represent all the regions of his realm: silver from the Weeping Mines and the lower tributary of the Tromlu River; carved oak from the antlers of one of the hag-headed deer; colored marble from the Blue Hooks. The effect was more impressive than if he had adorned himself in jewels, for together the buttons possessed an enchantment that made strange images flit through my mind when I looked upon them, memories of places I'd never seen. A shadowy grove around a narrow standing stone; a flash of mist-shrouded water tumbling down a sheer cliff.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Lupi Fairy Magic Silva Representations Cloak Garment

“I gazed at the horn, the long, corkscrew curve of it, the tip so sharp it was not actually visible to my mortal eyes, except as the narrowest of shadows. It filled me with the strangest desire to touch it, as if it were a spindle and I the hapless witch-touched maiden.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

Poison Sleeping Beauty Horn Faun

“The walls of the compartment were covered in flowering ivy. The floor had turned into some sort of stone, damp and mossy, and one of the walls seemed to have vanished entirely, offering a view of a lantern-lit path that bent towards several shadowy dwellings, turreted and roofed in green turf. Wendell lay asleep in his bed like a forest king in his leafy bower, oblivious, covered in blankets apart from a foot that stuck out.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Enchanted Faerie Magic Compartment

“Golden feathers began to fly through the air, and the wedding guests could not at first make sense of it. The oíche sidhe kept whacking and whacking until the serving girl split apart like an overripe plum and became what she had been long ago, though neither she nor the mother who raised her had guessed it---a golden raven, one of the three enchanted birds that the prince had released to bring strife to the kingdom. The serving girl flitted out the window, free at last, while the oíche sidhe dusted their hands and went smilingly back into hiding. They stopped pomading chickens and turning pajamas into evening wear, which was ultimately a relief to the duchess, who had been down to her last nightgown. As for the prince, the serving girl's disappearance finally gave him a purpose in life. He retreated to the wilderness to learn magic from witches and any Folk who would teach him. Eventually he succeeded in turning himself into a raven, whereupon he flew off in search of his beloved. In the northeast of Ireland it is said that he is still searching for his golden bride to this day, and that if you listen closely, you can hear her name in the croaking of the ravens.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Golden Ravens Irish Folklore Faerie Prince Faerie Tale

“You know that I am one of the foremost living experts on the ways of the Folk," I said. I was not worried about bragging, for this was a simple statement of fact. "That is the problem," Lilja replied. "Yes, I know that you know the Folk, but there is a difference between knowing and feeling. Those of us who live among them would never trust the tall ones. For all you have read about and studied the Folk, you have never truly lived with them, dear. They are like--- like nature. Can you understand the feeling of a winter night, or a spring wind, if you have only read about it?" This was an uncomfortable echo of something Farris had said to me once. I pursed my lips and replied, "All right. Let us accept for the sake of argument that you possess a truer understanding of the Folk than I, that books and academic knowledge are secondary to lived experience. What then would you have me fear?" She hesitated. "Power," she said at last. "In our stories, it is the great ones--- the lords and ladies, the monarchs and generals, that one must avoid above all else. They are the true monsters lurking in the night." This again! I thought. Aloud I said, "I have heard a similar opinion recently from another friend of mine, who seems to think Wendell will abandon me to die of exposure or some such, I suppose when he becomes tired of me." "Oh, no!" Lilja said. "That is not what I meant--- I don't believe for a second that Wendell would harm you. But I worry there will come a day when you no longer recognize him. And what hurt is worse than that?”

Source: Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

Romantasy Dark Academia Concerns Overpower Faerie King

“Looking back now, I wonder if I was observant enough. Certainly I was alert---I always am, during fieldwork---but I suspect that the unfamiliarity of the landscape, the high, dark mountains swaddled in snow, lulled me into a belief that no living thing could accost me here, certainly nothing fae, creatures I have spent my career associating with greenery and water and life. Fortunately, my reflexes are sharp. The instant the light flared through the trees, I halted and gripped my coin. It was a grayish light with no warmth in it, like a star. A wind moved through the trees, and there came a whisper of bells. Had I not been touching metal, I might have been bespelled, and as it was my head still spun a little, but I am used to brushing against faerie enchantments and stood my ground.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

Prepared Faerie Observant Experienced Encountered

“Upon the bed sat a boy, pale as moonlight on new snow. I stopped short, for the creature was nothing like the changelings I have encountered before---ugly, spindly things to a one, with the brains of animals. The boy's long hair was bluish and translucent, and upon his skin was a glimmer like frost. He was beautiful, with an uncanny grace, his eyes sharp with intelligence.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

Mythical Creatures Otherworldly Changeling Little Boy

“The forest has a different quality now, girded with winter. It no longer dozes among its autumn finery like a king in silken bedclothes, but holds itself in tension, watchful and waiting. Its moments like that, I am reminded of Gauthier's writings on woodlands and the nature of their appeal to the Folk. Specifically, the forest as liminal, a "middle-world" as Gauthier puts it, its roots burrowing deep into the earth as their branches yearn for the sky. Her scholarship tends towards the tautological and is not infrequently tedious (qualities she shares with a number of the continental dryadologists) yet there is a sense to her words one only grasps after time spent among the Folk.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

Rooted Forest Middle World

“Now, Shadow has never been fond of clothing, but he seemed to sense the importance of this particular imposition on his dignity, and held still while Wendell measured and draped him in iterations of what became a fine coat. It was a soft, velvety black, embroidered with a kingly amount of silver, which Wendell somehow made from a handful of the silver buttons I had found. He had decided to make Shadow intimidating--- to which I did not object, knowing this would lessen the dog's embarrassment--- and so he had taken tendrils of fog and attached them to the cloak like billowing ribbons, so that Shadow seemed to carry a mist with him everywhere like the spectral beast that he is. Together with the glitter of the silver, the effect was--- well, mythic.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

Dog Shadow Silver Fog Grim Dressed Up Fairy Magic Cloaked

“Below us was a frozen lake. It was perfectly round, a great gleaming eye in which the moon and stars were mirrored. Lanterns glowing the same cold white as the aurora dangled from the lake's edge to a scattering of benches and merchant-stands, draped in bright awnings of opal and blue. Delicious smells floated on the wind---smoked fish; fire-roasted nuts and candies; spiced cakes. A winter fair.* * Outside of Russia, almost all known species of courtly fae, and many common fae also, are fond of fairs and markets; indeed, such gatherings appear in stories as the interstitial spaces between their worlds and ours, and thus it is not particularly surprising that they feature in so many encounters with the Folk. The character of such markets, however, varies widely, from sinister to benign. The following features are universal: 1) Dancing, which the mortal visitor may be invited to partake in; 2) A variety of vendors selling foods and goods which the visitor is unable to recall afterwards. More often than not, the markets take place at night. Numerous scholars have attempted to document these gatherings; the most widely referenced accounts are by Baltasar Lenz, who successfully visited two fairs in Bavaria before his disappearance in 1899.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

Fairs Winter Faeries Markets Magical Realm Footnote Gatherings

“And if you are going to be an old hen about it and waste your time clucking over every scrap of clutter, you should know in advance that I won't be assisting." "Old hen!" he exclaimed. "Well, of course you won't help. You'll spend the evening in your preferred manner, hunched over in some dark corner like a troll.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

Bickering Lovers Spat

“The fox melted back into the shadows of the cave, but not before I sensed something terribly amiss about it, which jarred at my awareness like a toothache. "Emily," Rose murmured. I turned. Several more of the little vulpine Folk, perched upon a log on the bank--- for naturally they were Folk, like the one I'd observed briefly by the cottage; I felt irritated at myself for not realizing it before. Even at close range, they looked a great deal like foxes in all but their faces, which reminded me of a human infant, all overlarge eyes and small rosebud mouths. They might have been small children wearing costumes, but for the unnerving glint of very small, but very sharp teeth, and the wet, all-black of their eyes. They darted in and out of the meadow grass, which was riddled with foxholes, so quick it was difficult to ascertain their number, except that it was great.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Features Faeries Fox Facial Features

“As soon as I opened my eyes, my vision was obscured by a large quantity of black fur, a cold, wet nose, and an enormous tongue. I was not offended at all--- quite the contrary--- and let Shadow lick my cheeks before burying my face in his neck. "Poor dear," I murmured. "There, there--- you needn't worry about me leaving you again!" He has been like this each morning since my return, but I can scarcely object. I missed him as much as he missed me, and have vowed never again to venture anywhere he cannot follow.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Dog Shadow Grim Reunited

“Somehow, one of the women found time to knit a jacket for Shadow which, combined with the other gifts, left me unaccountable flustered---given my companion's size, it would have taken her hours. Bambleby and I entertained ourselves at the cottage by coaxing a recalcitrant Shadow into his new raiment, which was patterned with flowers and equipped with a jaunty hood. The dog hung his head in abject embarrassment until his tormentors deigned to relieve him of this woolen pillory, and he spent the next hour pointedly ignoring me.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Dog Jacket Hoodie Poor Baby

“Toss me one of your pencils!" "Have you gone mad?" I cried even as I removed the pencil from my cloak pocket and threw it at his head. It began to transform before it even reached him, elongating and flashing through the shadows--- a sword. I regretted aiming for his head then, but Wendell caught it with the grace of a trained swordsman, which of course he was. Watching Wendell with a sword is like watching a bird leap from a branch--- there is something thoughtless about it, innate. One has the sense that he is less himself without a sword, that wielding it returns him to the element most natural to him. He drove the sword into the nearest sheerie, and before it had fallen he had spun round to slash at the one behind him, slicing it open like overripe fruit. The other three fell just as easily.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

Sword Recklessness Pencil Faerie King Fairy Magic

“This queen seems no better." He came close to me, looking me up and down as a glint of mischief came into his eyes. "But mortals can be entertaining. And they do not break as easily as some think." Wendell's expression went from one of bemusement to towering fury with such abruptness that both Taran and I fell back a step; Taran afterwards looked annoyed as a cat following a moment of gracelessness. There came a terrible rumbling sound, coupled with that same wet rustling with which I am all too familiar, as if the attentive oaks were uprooting themselves en masse and lumbering in our direction. "You are speaking to a queen of Faerie," Wendell said, and it seemed as if the rustling leaves were in his voice.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Trees Protective Romantasy Faerie King Fairy Magic

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

Source: Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

Capable Surprise Limitless No Boundaries Surprised Capable Of Anything

“A faerie crouched beside me. It was very small, its frame skeletal with a face full of teeth and two sharp black stones for eyes tucked beneath a ravenskin that it seemed to wear as a sort of cloak, but the skin had been poorly cleaned and the eyes were absent. It had all the substance of cobwebs and was both there and not there; viewed from certain angles, it was merely the shadow of a stone, and from others, a live raven. It was digging around in my pockets with fingernails the length again of its spindly arms and sharp enough to slit my throat without my noticing the injury immediately.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Appearance Invisible Faerie Mythical Creatures Otherworldly

“I fetched a pair of metal tweezers from my pack and carefully plucked a leaf from the frost. It was lovely, segmented like a maple and white as the trunk and boughs, though it also had a coating of short white hairs, like some sort of beast. I placed the leaf within a small metal box I habitually use to collect such samples, many of which have found their place in the Museum of Dryadology and Ethnofolklore at Cambridge.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

Tree Sample Leaf Fieldwork Otherworldly

“Rose asked me why I was not more surprised by your feat. He does not understand you as I do, Em, but as you seem to consider him a friend now, I told him the truth: in order to be surprised, I could not have known already that you are capable of anything.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

Heroine I Believe In You

“Establishing contact with the common fae of this region may lead us to your door." He looked dubious. "You were lucky with Poe. Your luck will run out if you aren't careful." "I'd wager it ran out long ago, as I'm presently traipsing round the world on an errand for an indolent monarch," I replied acidly”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Seeking Help Smart Mouth

“If this is a shortcut," I said, "then we will be bypassing a great deal of Where the Trees Have Eyes." "Hum!" Snowbell said. "I suppose so. The Weeping Mines, for one--- terrible waterfalls where the high ones harvest their silver. The Gap of Wick, which a nasty boggart has claimed for his own. Also the darkest part of the forest, the lands of the hag-headed deer, which they call the Poetry. And many other perils besides." He said it in his usual bragging tones, assuming that I would be nothing but grateful. And I was, I suppose, but another part of me wept at the thought of finding my way to the Silva Lupi, a place of scholarly legend, so magnificently fascinating and terrible, and then hurrying through like a busy shopper at a market.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Dark Fantasy Dark Academia Faeries Mythical Creatures Fairyland Lupi Silva

“Evelyn Dadd documents her observations of blacksmithing in a troll village in the Kainuu region of Finland in the most recent (1909) edition of her undergraduate textbook, ”Introduction to Dryadology: Theory, Methods, and Practice”.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Suomi Torille

“The mountains I saw through the break in the fog were familiar, and yet something was off about them. They seemed too dark, somehow, and the nearest was riddled with hollows where tiny lights glimmered. The fog shifted again, and I was gazing at a luxuriant rose garden. The flowers were fat and healthy, but the garden itself was overgrown and had the air of abandonment, the rosebushes almost swallowing their trellises, some of which had collapsed. A little wind blew back the heads of the nearest roses, and I felt as if they were turning to gaze at me.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Illusion Faerie Enchantment Rose Garden Supernatural Fantasy

“Naturally, Wendell's apartments are absurdly comfortable, and somehow there is the atmosphere of a forest about them, though I know this makes little sense. The ceilings are very high, rather like the canopy of an ancient grove--- I suspect he has enchanted them somehow--- and always there is the sound of rustling leaves, though this abruptly ceases if you listen too closely. I would have expected a lot of luxurious frippery from faerie royalty, but his furnishings are simple--- a scattering of sofas, impossible soft; a huge oak table; three magnificent inglenook fireplaces; and a great deal of empty floor through which an impossible little breeze is always stirring, smelling of moss. For decoration there is the mirror from Hrafnsvik with the forest reflected inside it and a few silver baubles, sculptures and vases and the like, which catch the light in unexpected ways, but that's it. And, of course, the place is so clean one feels one may sully it by breathing too hard.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Mirror Faerie Residency Rustic Charm Homey

“We came next to a side door that led us back to the courtyard, where the ice now ran red with blood, then he made us all leap through a window that brought us to a winter garden, filled with flowers the color of twilight punctuated with violent hedges, their leaves black and spiky and their berries bright with poison.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Escaping Palace Winter Garden Courtyard Magical Beauty Dark Beauty Perilous Beauty

“Many of the nobilities are exceedingly fond of the Hanging Pools, where the river Brightmist spills down a ravine and forms a series of crystalline ponds, perfect for bathing in. And then there is the forest of Wildwood and its bog, hunting grounds forbidden to all but the monarchy and our chosen companions, where one finds uncommonly large boars and the rarest species of deer, which possess antlers of pure silver...”

Source: Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

Geography Forest Fairyland Bog Pools Hunting Ground

“He would never abandon me as Orga is so often abandoning Wendell. Dogs are proper companions, not the physical manifestation of caprice.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

Shadow Dogs And Cats Preferable

“Faerie stones can be found in a variety of regions, being particularly common in Cornwall and the Isle of Man. They are unimpressive in appearance and hard to recognize with the untrained eye; their most distinguishing feature is their perfect roundness. They seem primarily to be used to store enchantments for later use or perhaps for the purposes of gift-giving. Danielle de Grey's 1850 Guide to Elfstones of Western Europe is the definitive resource on the subject. (I am aware that many dryadologists today ignore de Grey's research on account of her many scandals, but whatever else she was, I find her a meticulous scholar.) A faerie stone with a crack down it has been spent and is thus harmless. An intact stone should be left untouched and reported to ICAD, the International Council of Arcanologists and Dryadologists.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

Stones Profession Faerie Magic Stone Side Note

“She is sending assassins after you because she thinks we are engaged, and thus her mad faerie logic tells her that I will devote my life to seeking revenge against her if she murders you." "That's generally how these things go. You know the stories." Of course I did. Deirde and the River Lord; The Princess of Shell Halls.* *Deirde was an Irish queen who sent her army into Faerie to avenge the death of her faerie husband at the hands of his brothers. The Princess of Shell Halls is likely of French origin, a variant of La princesse et le trône de sel. "Sel," meaning salt, was likely mistranslated as "shell," but the framework of the story is the same: a faerie princess of an undersea kingdom dedicates her life to avenging the death of her betrothed, the prince of an island realm. This despite the fact that leaving the sea condemns her to a slow death, to which she eventually succumbs only after murdering the last of the conspirators in her fiancé's murder.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

Princess Vengeance French Language Footnote Deirdre Sad Love Story

“Neither of us was hungry, but we managed to force down a little of Poe's bread, which was, as ever, delicious, buttery with a hint of chocolate, and very refreshing. Having finished the water we had brought with us, we were now forced to drink from creeks and streams. I was not happy about this, but there was no alternative.* *In some stories, drinking from faerie streams has the same effect upon mortals as faerie wine.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Enchanted Sustenance Footnote Faerie Wine

“Which of the Irish kingdoms is yours?" "Oh---it's the one you scholars call Silva Lupi," he said. "In the southwest." "Wonderful," I murmured. Faerie realms are named for their dominant feature---statistically, the largest category is silva, woodland, followed by montibus, mountains---and an adjective chosen by the first documenting scholar. Ireland has seven realms, including the better-known Silva Rosis. But Silva Lupi---the forest of wolves---is a realm of shadow and monsters. It is the only one of the Irish realms to exist solely in story---not for lack of interest, of course, a number of scholars have disappeared into its depths.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Ireland Kingdom Faerie Realm Silva

“Yes, I wanted to remain here in Faerie, with Wendell. Yes, I knew it went against reason and common sense--- ordinarily two of my strengths. My arguments with Rose had been nonsense all along, because the truth was that I agreed with him. Of course it wasn't a sane decision to befriend a monarch of the Folk, let alone marry one, particularly if he reigned over the Silva Lupi. 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. If there was danger in my decision--- and I knew there was--- then so be it. I would accept danger, if it meant I could have this.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

Fantasy Romance Realization Of Love Faerie Prince

“I realized that part of me had been waiting for Wendell to make a miraculous recovery. To rescue us all, as well as himself, just when we needed him most. It would fit the pattern of innumerable stories. But perhaps Wendell wasn't part of his kingdom's story anymore. Or he was, but merely as a footnote, a trial for his stepmother to overcome as she rose from powerful to unstoppable-- to irrevocably weave herself into the fabric of her world, as the king of Ljosland had. And if he was a footnote, what did that make me? I leaned close, breathing in the smell of his hair--- the salt of sweat; smoke from the fire; and the distant smell of green leaves that never left him. "My answer is yes," I whispered in his ear.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Falling In Love Fantasy Romance Marriage Proposal Faerie Prince

“He was swishing his hand absently through the rushing water, looking as pleased as a cat in a sunbeam. His beauty seemed to me to have assumed an even more ethereal quality since we'd stepped through the door--- was it my imagination? His hair was like dark gold lit by firelight.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Faerie Prince Magical Beauty

“If you do not allow me to come, I shall write to my father." I gave a sharp breath of laughter. "You think he will sympathize with your desire to go charging into Faerie? I will rise in his esteem for refusing you--- though admittedly this is because his expectations of me are at ground level." "You don't understand," she said. "I shall write to him to say that you have given me little in the way of supervision, and allow me to wander the mountains at all hours, despite the danger. And then, after I have sent the letter off, I shall follow you into the nexus. And what will happen, do you think, if I do not catch up to you?" We gazed at each other in silence for a long moment. Ariadne looked pale, and several times she had the appearance of biting back an apology, but she did not apologize. Nor did she drop my gaze. "You wretched brat," I finally said. "I will tie you to your bed.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

Niece Blackmail Smart Mouth

“The loveliness of the view outside stopped me in my tracks. The mountain fell away before me, a carpet of green made greener by the luminous dawn staining the clouds with pinks and golds. The mountains themselves were lightly ensnowed, though there was no threat of a sequel in that cerulean canopy. Within the hinterlands of the prospect heaved the great beast of the sea with its patchy pelt of ice floes.”

Source: Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

Dawn Sunrise Mountains Natures Beauty Scenic Beauty

“I have come for a throne this time." He smiled, and my legs wobbled with relief. "Have you?" he said. "Well, why not? This kingdom has been ruled by halfbloods and housekeepers; a mortal queen is hardly going to lower us further." And just like that, I was on solid ground. Solider, at any rate; whatever else this man was, he was every bit as snobbish as the majority of the courtly fae. "Why not take the throne yourself, if you are so bothered by the pedigree of its previous occupants?" I asked, which was brazen, but then many of the courtly fae are charmed by boldness in mortals, in much the same way that we coo when a kitten bares its teeth. He snorted. "I value my neck, that's why. Which I have managed to keep intact for many centuries--- far longer than those who covet power in this bloody wolf's den of a court." This was so far from what I had expected that I was silent for a moment. "Wise of you," I said. The malicious amusement was back. "Thank you--- I cannot tell you how highly I value the opinions of mortals, particularly young girls who cannot stop themselves from stumbling into violent faerie realms.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

Monarchy Faerie Throne Verbal Salt Accedence

“Killing is why I exist," she said finally. "It is my only love. I used to struggle with my temper, but now I embrace it. You cannot fathom how many I have slain, both mortal and Folk. Why should a little nothing like you be the end of me?" "You know why," I said. "Because it would be a fitting conclusion." She gave me the sort of look that reminded me of Razkarden when he sizes up a potential meal. The shadow in the room seemed to deepen, redden, and grow damp, a slippery damp I felt through my shoes. I only waited. "Well?" I said. She seemed to deflate slightly, and the illusion vanished. "You wish to find the door to Death?" she said, a slyness entering her voice. "Very well. I will tell you how. But I must be allowed to depart this realm unharmed." I could see she expected me to protest or bargain with her. "Done," I said. Her lip curled. "Such a dull little thing," she said. "You have no spirit worth breaking, I see. You are not like your grandfather at all." "And you are not as frightening as you think you are," I said.”

Source: Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

Gothic Dark Academia Heroine Verbal Salt Unperturbed Lady Of Darkness