Patricia

“What?" I said.
He rose, shaking the dew from his cloak. "You have that look."
He had mirrored my own train of thought, which made me scowl at him irrationally. "Which?"
"The one you wear whenever you outsmart me in some area," he said.
"Well," I began with a shrug, then stopped. My magnanimity was wearing thin, I'm afraid. "Haven't I?"
He laughed, a clear, bright sound, and then, before I knew what was happening, he had lifted me from my feet and spun me through the air, the greenery and shadow of the forest a whirl all around me.
"My beloved Emily," he murmured in my ear.
"Yes, yes, all right," I said, though I did not pull away. My smugness was back, together with a warm sort of satisfaction. It was pleasing to see him this happy.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“Such is the way with librarians, who are almost as unpredictable as the Folk, some minatory and persnickety, others overflowing with warmth towards humanity at large.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“Shadow’s world was one in which all and sundry either fawned over him or kept a respectful distance from his intimidating bulk. Each time Orga hissed at him, Shadow seemed to assume it a misunderstanding, which grew increasingly improbable as these incidents accumulated, but still less improbable, in his view, than being disliked.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“I must write it down. For it is in writing that I will discover a way out. A door within the story. There is one. It cannot end here. Yet some stories do.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales