I’m rating this book 2 stars because while the writing was fine and some of the descriptions (while a little overwrought) were vivid and engaging, the plot was as good as non-existent with multiple threads dropped, the ending was rushed and lacklustre, and the supporting characters were deeply uninteresting. While I HATED the dynamic of the three central characters, I don’t think disliking what were admittedly fairly well rounded characters qualifies as a skill issue on the author’s part. Her only job is to tell me a decent story. Whether or not the characters are good people who make the right choices is irrelevant to the quality of the book.
That said, I have to say that Rhys is like an alternate universe version of that other Rhys, you know the one I mean? The one we all hate? The one who is also a little liar, not to mention an ignorant bitch?
I am not American and am not hugely knowledgable about what goes on over there, so I will have to direct you to the words of other reviewers who can say whether or not Moira was a stereotype. That’s their call. I do recognise that her dialogue was FORCED sometimes—like even I knew that it was overdone and I’ve never set foot on US soil. But I think Moira, while being a bit of an overdesigned character, written with the sort of nervy, breathless self-consciousness of a writer who is desperate to be seen a certain way—to the detriment of the character; poor Moira isn’t allowed to have a genuine flaw? She needs to be perfect and beloved by everyone? Can’t she just be human like everyone else? why is the bar for her behaviour so high?—is not the worst thing about this trio, and by the end I genuinely cared about her; no, the worst dynamic is that of Rhys and David, which I wrote about in my status updates.
David is a recovering alcoholic and while he is immensely financially privileged, he is also a survivor of intense physical and emotional child abuse. David is a deeply damaged person that Rhys is in no way emotionally mature enough to be around. As David, Rhys, and Moira become closer, a friendship forms between David (who is a gay man) and Moira (a straight woman) which is by far the most tender, believable, and warm emotional bond showcased in the book. It is utterly overshadowed by the truly horrible way Rhys treats David.
David is Rhys’s ex-boyfriend and a member of the secret magical demon summoning society they both belong to (that sounds interesting but I can assure you that it’s not). They are both vying for the position of High Priest, since the former High Priest is retiring amicably from his position and wants to choose a successor (this book is allergic to complex conflict). David comes back into Rhys’s life after they had a falling out—which both Rhys and Moira overreacted to—and asks for Rhys’s help to banish a demon that is causing him to experience spiritual sickness. While they try to get to the bottom of the problem the three grow closer, resulting in Rhys and Moira opening their marriage to allow Rhys to date David.
David is a difficult person to get along with…sort of. Everyone repeatedly mentions how smart mouthed he is and how prickly and mean but he’s pretty much as mean as Nesta was in ACOWAR, which is to say he’s a bit of a prickly pear but nowhere near the absolute war criminal they all make him out to be. The book treats his alcoholism as an indictment on his character, a sign that he’s rotten and useless, and this leads me into the attitudes of the central characters that rules the narrative: they are all incredibly transactional in their relationships. Everything is a “favour” that must be repaid. David’s every movement must be atoned for or paid for in some way. He must not ever inconvenience Rhys. Rhys admits to being controlling, to enjoying feeling powerful and particularly to having power over David; he is constantly negging him, dismissing him, blowing David’s every misstep out of proportion, and repeating over and over again, lest the reader forget, that David is NOT as important to him as Moira. This is confusing given that he professes to “love” David—another apt comparison to Nesta, since it is obvious that Cassian, like Rhys to David, does not love or even like Nesta; he enjoys having sex with her and wants to be in a relationship. The same is true for Rhys. He has nothing positive to say about David at any point, ever; while David’s heart is bursting with romantic love for him, Rhys is usually thinking about what a nuisance David is, and how it “wasn’t exactly true” that he loved David’s money more than he loved David. “Wasn’t exactly true”. It’s not “exactly” true that the moon is white. But it is, for all intents and purposes, white.
Rhys’s worst offence happens when he catches David relapsing at a party. At this point the idea of an open marriage has been floated and Moira has acknowledged Rhys’s obvious attraction to David. David kisses Rhys, and Rhys reciprocates until he tastes alcohol in David's mouth. He then flies into an explosive rage and shoves David into a wall so hard that he hits his head. He then thinks about how badly he wants to hit him, and threatens to hit him. David refuses to go home, so Rhys then threatens to humiliate him in front of all of their friends. You might ask—why did David relapse after three years of sobriety? Was there a trigger? The trigger was that Rhys was announced as High Priest in front of everyone. That’s not Rhys’s fault, no, but what is his fault is that he was told days prior to the public announcement that he had won the position. He had the opportunity to tell David in private and made the conscious, on-page choice not to take it. He waited until they were in front of all of their friends, surrounded by alcohol. The transactional and individualist mentality of this book comes into play when David then later apologises for his behaviour, but Rhys does not. Rhys is vindicated because David spoiled his special evening, because naturally getting ahead in business or taking charge of the little boys’ club takes precedent over the wellbeing of one’s loved ones. You can throw away your boyfriend; you can’t displease the shareholders!
(Interesting that David relapsing and falling back into masochistic, self-harming behaviours coincides with Rhys coming back into his life. What a coincidence. It's almost as if Rhys ruins everything he touches.)
The book ends with David heartsick, grovelling, now available for controlling sex—the kind of sex, Rhys says, Moira won’t tolerate. Moira is too assertive; she’s too independent for Rhys to easily control, and she has a social network that will step in for her if he crosses a line. But David is a fuck-up. He has no one else to turn to but Rhys and Moira, and Rhys is careful to behave himself around her. She is the Madonna and David is the whore. Rhys can’t abuse Moira, but he can abuse David, because what the hell is he going to do? Leave? And go where?
(I could write a whole extra essay about this classic threesome dynamic in which the gay relationship is devalued, trivialised, and hypersexualised, compared to the sacred enshrined straight union; it's not solely a literary trope, but in fact is a phenomenon that plays out often in real life, causing real gay people real pain, but that would require more characters than I have.)
The cherry on top of all of this is the scene at the very end when Rhys turns to David and says, “Brother. That’s what you are to me” (and boy oh boy, isn't that what every gay person wants to hear from the person they hope to date!). This is an incredibly confusing and weirdly insulting thing to say to someone you’re in a romantic and sexual relationship with, but this is what he does. This is what abusers do. They must remain unpredictable. They have to keep their victims unsure of what to do or say, fearful of how any misstep might trigger an escalation, so that the only safe option is to do nothing, no matter how demeaning the treatment. If the author’s intention was to write it this way, fucking bravo—I mean it. It’s a masterful depiction of the slow crescendo of abuse. David is susceptible to it; victims of child abuse are at high risk of falling into abusive relationships in adulthood. So it’s no wonder he thinks he deserves to be knocked around. To have someone who constantly negs and belittles him then turn around and package it all as “love”.
In the climax, Rhys takes David’s demon into himself, saving him. David then attempts to exorcise it and it’s unclear if it’s gone. This makes me think that the aforementioned abuse was unintentional—because Rhys doing this feels like a hand of storytelling God, like the author reaching over my shoulder to turn the page for me. If this book were written to its natural conclusion, and if it were true to its characters, Rhys would never have done this, at least not for the reasons provided. I don’t know if he would’ve let David die—it’s a possibility—but David is valuable to him as a punching bag and a magical tool. What I’m really saying is that the notion of Rhys giving his life for David’s simply because he “loves” him is absurd and forced, and is obviously the author's way of saying, "See? Their love is so strong!". I don't buy that. What I do buy is Rhys doing this with an ulterior motive. He is certainly conniving enough to want the demon’s power since it’s emphasised that he’s not magical inherently and is jealous of the magical connection that David and Moira share. David to him is not an additional partner but a sexual stimulant and an ego boost. He is easy to feel superior to and even easier to swing for when Rhys needs to hit something. Long live our illustrious High Priest.