BOOKS

Picture it: Motorcyclists, pedestrians and mechanical cats (yep, just like the ones on the cover above) speed over muddy cobblestones and through the buzzing city of Skemantis. The city is filled to the brim with sights and sounds; without a doubt, it's bustling. Everyone has a place to be, but there's a soft side to Skemantis, too. One that's wooded and magical, covered in cattails and frog ponds with briar patches and ancient willow trees. A fairyland that's quieter, but still a bit ominous.

That's exactly the world author Sarah Jean Horwitz takes us to in her debut novel, The Wingsnatchers. The book is not just the first from the 25-year-old author (can you say wow?!), but it's also book one in her enchanting Carmer and Grit series.

Today, GL is happy to *exclusively* debut the novel's cover—that's it, right up there! As far as book covers go, this one is down-right gorgeous. But you know what they say: "Don't judge a book by its cover..." 

So here's the DL: The series follows unlikely companions Felix Carmer III (better known as just Carmer) and the 5-inch tall fierce and one-winged faerie princess Grettifrida (though she *much* prefers to be called Grit). While Grit is the heir to Seelie faerie kingdom and works with real magic, Carmer is simply a magician's apprentice who would much rather be making magic of his own through actual inventions than quirky illusions. In Carmer and Grit, the two cross paths unexpectedly and agree to combine their magic to lend one another a helping hand. 

But don't take our word for it—read the book yourself. We know our GL girls love to read, which is why we're exclusively sharing an excerpt from the novel, too. 

Below is your first-ever chance to read The Wingsnatchers, where you can experience the thrill of Carmer meeting his unlikely faerie friend for the very first time. There's no doubt that you'll fall in love with these characters right away. 

Carmer let a small, relieved laugh escape his lips as he watched his tormentors run away, coughing and sputtering and smelling of burned cinnamon. He could hardly believe his luck with the lamp, and his invention had worked! He would have to tell Kitty and the Amazifier about it when he got back.

When he got back! Carmer had forgotten that the first show of the magic competition was tonight. He dusted himself off and prepared once again to find his way back to the camp when a small cough, so quiet he barely heard it, caught his attention. Carmer looked around uncertainly.

“Ahem,” coughed the small voice again, a tad impatiently this time.

Carmer’s gaze finally rested on the broken streetlamp, where a very tiny something — someone? — was perched at his eye level, its minuscule limbs entwined in the filigree of the post. It regarded him with an imperious stare.

Carmer’s first thought was that she was a windup doll, perhaps ignorantly left behind by someone at the exposition, but she was so . . . lifelike. No, not lifelike. Alive.

“Friend of the Fae,” said the creature, eyeing him with suspicion as he took a few steps closer, his mouth agape, “I am Princess Grettifrida Lonewing of Oldtown Arboretum and sole heir to the Seelie faerie kingdom of Skemantis — ”

“You can talk!” interrupted Carmer delightedly. Clearly, she was some sort of advanced automaton. He stepped closer, and the little eyes widened under her shock of red and blonde hair. She looked quite taken aback.

“Of course I can talk!” she shot back at him. “I don’t know which king or queen made you a Friend of the Fae, but whoever it was must have been a few thorns short of a rosebush!”

Carmer laughed, the grin spreading across his whole face. He had no idea what a “friend of the fae” was, but he did know he’d just been insulted by a mechanical doll that was five inches tall.

“What is your name, human, and where are the faeries you’ve been consorting with?” She did not look pleased at being laughed at. “They can’t have gone far.”

“Um . . . F-Felix Cassius Tiberius Carmer III, miss. They call me Carmer,” he said. “And I don’t believe I’ve been consorting with anyone.”

The doll blanched at that, her big yellow eyes widening even farther, but she recovered her haughtiness well. Her little mouth twisted into a thin line. “A Friend of the Unseelie Court, are you?” she snapped. “You should tell them to be a little more careful, concentrating so much power in the middle of the city like that. And where were they when you were about to eat dirt just now?”

“Um . . .”

“No matter,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Your secrets are yours to keep as you wish.”

“Er, thanks?” said Carmer.

“Well, Carmer, they call me Grit, and I suppose you’ll have to do.”

“Do? For what?”

“For taking me home, back to the Arboretum and the boundary of my kingdom. As you can see,” Grit said, hesitating, “I cannot fly, and am thus in need of your assistance. As an apparent Friend, you are obliged to help.”

Grit stuck out a dainty foot from the lamppost, still hanging on with her other side, and Carmer saw it. “Lonewing,” she’d called herself, and now he saw why. While one wing shone and fluttered like no material he’d ever seen, the other was plainly missing.

Two warring halves of Carmer’s intellect were coming head to head. On one hand, his very first instinct had been that this . . . Grit . . . was a living, breathing thing. In fact, Carmer didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone, or anything, so intrinsically alive — so bright and practically pulsing with energy.

Yet the rational part of Carmer’s brain, the part that built mechanical soldiers and smoke bombs and memorized the periodic table when he was eight, knew better than that. She’s only an automaton! it assured him. She’s been broken, and now she’s transmitting some kind of signal to get herself back home and repaired.

That was the logical explanation, and therefore, the only explanation. And yet . . .

As a magician’s apprentice, Carmer knew there was no such thing as real magic. It was all smoke and mirrors, levers and pulleys and sleight of hand. Carmer knew this better than anyone. There was no such thing as magic.

And yet, in his heart of hearts, Carmer knew this little girl . . . this faerie, he supposed, was altogether quite magical. The proof was right in front of him, looking rather like she’d fancy boxing him around the ears, if she could.

“Well?” Grit asked impatiently, still holding out her foot.

There was only one option; she had saved him, after all. Carmer held out his hand and watched bemusedly as the faerie jumped deftly into his open palm. They looked at each other for a long moment, Grit sizing him up with a critical eye.

Uncomfortable with being stared at, Carmer swiftly deposited her in his breast pocket and set off down the street.

“Hey!” The muffled shout was followed by a sharp pointy object poking into his chest.

Carmer cried out and clutched at it, jostling the faerie around even more. “Ow! What was that for?”

Grit’s dandelion head poked out of the pocket and glared up at him. She clutched a long hatpin in one hand like a sword. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

Carmer nudged her head back down.

“Who do you think you are?” she shrieked.

“I’m making sure you’re not seen, for a start,” whispered Carmer, reluctant to look like he was talking to himself on a crowded city street. “And apparently, I’m a ‘Friend of the Fae.’ ”

Carmer neglected to mention he hadn’t the slightest idea what a Friend of the Fae even was.

Carmer and Grit is due out April 25, 2017, but (luckily) you can preorder it on Amazon here right now!

What are your thoughts on Carmer and Grit? On the excerpt? The cover? Sound off in the comments!

by Sydney Adamson | 9/12/2016