With my mid-youth crisis all said and done / I need to be youthfully felt 'cause, God, I never felt young (Jackie and Wilson – Hozier).
Let’s start by ignoring those five beautiful stars up there for a second, because I think it’s important to know that this wasn’t exactly the easiest book to read. It demands your patience in a way that I rarely see in a book, let alone in a sequel to a beloved book. It’s got that stubborn endurance, that’s for sure. And you know what? Good. Because I think this book is wonderful. As taxing as it could be at points (or several, really), I think that in the end, it’s totally worth it. Underneath all the earth-shaking blows and terrible schemes, this book really is a sweet love story about healing. The simple, thematic undercurrent of unlearning the shame that’s forced upon members of the LGBT+ community shines through the cracks and washes away all of my petty criticisms! …Though, for old times’ sake, why don’t I just go ahead and use a couple paragraphs to vent some of my frustrations. Old habits die hard, sorry. Um, about a third of the way into this doorstopper, I had a That’s so Raven vision of the future that told me to watch out. That I needed to temper all those lofty expectations, because there’s a good chance that this installment wouldn’t live up to the first. That it wouldn’t be as much of a crowd pleaser. It seems the muse spoke through me, because it was right… kind of. The first problem I noticed was that despite there being more than enough exciting action set-pieces throughout the story to keep me entertained, both Velasin and Caethari were far too blasé with the threats to their lives for me to really buy into how realistic these attacks were. Never a good sign when there’s a moment of quiet contemplation for our characters and all I’m doing is scratching my head at the logistics. Isn’t Cae supposed to be royalty or something? Why the hell are they traveling the road without some sort of protection or any guards except for Markel? Isn’t Cae a soldier!? Why doesn’t he start swinging his sword (in more ways than one ha ha) until the end of the book!? I don’t know, I just think that a lot of the plot-points had to be contrived in a very specific way in order for this story to even happen. These things didn’t bother me too much… but I noticed. Oh, I noticed. Thankfully, I don’t think the ultimate message of the book is diluted in any way, but it was enough to where some of the emotional weight was lost.
The main problem with me was that, as main characters, Both Vel and Cae were painfully reactive to the events of the story. An awful thing would happen and they'd just be like, "Damn, that's crazy." That's a bit of an exaggeration, but it really did start to feel like that after a while. I know we love these characters, and what makes them special is that they’re simply two good men in a harsh world… but I think the story goes a bit too far in that regard. I think it’s okay to show a more jaded side to these guys. I mean, after the shit they went through in this book alone, it’s definitely warranted. Like, at what point is realism thrown out the door, because after several assassination attempts (like, six!), you’d think these guys would be on red-alert, side-eyeing every smiling face that shows up at their door. The truth of the matter is, I just think that they were too trusting for the story they’re in. So much so, that when the narrative takes a left turn and switches pov's to some sad-sack named Asrien, I felt my shoulders sag in relief. Finally! Somebody who isn’t so pure that they could give the Seven Princesses of Heart a run for their money! Say what you will about his motivations, but at least he’s doing something! It’s why it always feels easier to justify the actions of morally ambiguous protagonists; even if they’re committing all kinds of terrible deeds, at least they’re usually the ones moving the plot along. It sounds silly, but you really can get away with a lot if your main characters are proactive. I know it seems like “forgiveness” is a foreign concept to me, but come on! I feel like I’m justified in my irritation here. Vel and Cae, you don’t have to “see both sides of the story” with every single character that tries to kill you! Not to sound too heated, but all I know is that if I were Velasin, it would be on sight with some of these freaks. And if nothing else, following intensely humble characters doesn’t exactly make for the most entertaining story. I still love these characters, I really do, but if there is another book somewhere down the line, I hope these two are able to get their backs off the wall. Be the driving force in their own story and all that.
Did I say that this is a fantastic book? Oops, sometimes I get carried away, my bad. What a book, though. And even with all that I said up there, a small part of me could never stay mad at Vel and Cae and how they’re written. In many ways, it’s not their fault at how hapless they come across within the narrative. This fantasy world, which often mirrors ours in terms of how it treats marginalized people, is so mean and ugly and demands so many compromises, that I think the example of quiet strength shown in how the characters continue to live on and love each other despite the obstacles is incredibly powerful. Whenever a sequel features an ongoing romantic couple, lot of the times they go out of their way to contrive a reason as to why they suddenly start having relationship troubles. Add a little spice so the narrative doesn’t stagnate. Sorry, but... yawn. A lot of people aren’t fans of this approach (like me), but if it’s done right, it can be quite poignant. There are no real “happily-ever-after’s” in life, only the times when you decide to stop telling the story and close the book. So, it was wonderfully thoughtful how this book chose to explore Vel and Cae’s relationship. They’re clearly in love, but there are circumstances that stop them from being able to communicate properly. Inborn internalized homophobia, grief, assassination plots. Man, I’m glad this book has a happy ending, because damned if they weren’t going through it. What I found ingenious is that this book falls back on the most simplistic and realistic reasons as to why a person would start questioning their relationship; insecurity. “Does the person I love the most secretly hate me?” is a sentiment I’m sure plenty can relate to. But in my opinion, none feel it deeper than queer folk. A lifetime of being treated with doubt and rejection can poison even the purest of loves. So, when Velasin is constantly questioning the strength of his marriage to Caethari (and vice versa), I wasn’t angry, I was just sad, because it’s very real. The thing is, constantly casting your loved ones in a negative light, in paranoia, thinking that they’ll turn on you in a heartbeat and are always secretly talking about you behind your back is only doing a disservice to the people you love. Being a martyr does no one a kindness and there’s nothing more selfish than a selfless act of sacrifice. At the end of the day, martyrdom really only helps to assuage one’s own guilty conscience. Real bravery is allowing yourself to be loved and cared for by the people who want to love and care for you. Because the thing is; believing so easily that your people can be so cruel is a cruelty in and of itself. And this is something Vel and Cae had to learn the hard way, but they learned. I loved this book because it doesn’t just show how hard it is to allow yourself vulnerability, but why it’s so important to do so anyway.
“I knew how to want in secret, but wanting openly was something else altogether.”