A Court of Wings and Ruin Chapter 11: A Brief Journey In The Pumpkin Spice Court

Previously, Feyre had the best sneaky plan to take down Tamlin, Ianthe, and the Spring Court from within, but the maybe-incest twins totally knew she was up to something and had been giving her poison that weakened her magic, but then she murdered them. RIP maybe-incest twins. But tbh it’s probably for the best for everyone trying to read at work that we don’t keep writing “maybe-incest” all over our blog.

Now, a magic-less Feyre is forced to take Lucien with her on an on-foot escape to the Night Court, but to do so they have to cross through…

A Court of Wings and Ruin: Chapter 11

The cold was what hit me first.
Brisk, crisp cold, laced with loam and rotting things.

The Autumn Court! That’s right, IT’S FALL, MOTHERFUCKERS.

Walking through the woods of the Autumn Court felt like striding inside a jewel box.
Even with all that potentially hunted us now, the colors were so vivid it was an effort not to gawk and gape.

Feyre lets Lucien lead the way, since they can’t magic out where any sentries are, and then they find an abandoned campground hidden away in a cave that he used to use back when he lived here. Also it’s super awk because they’re sorta kinda frenemies now?

“You truly planned this,” he said at last. […]
“Yes.”
“That’s all you have to say? […] I knew you were lying the moment you unleashed that light in Hybern. My friend at the Dawn Court has the same power—her light is identical. And it does not do whatever horseshit you lied about it doing.”
I shoved my pack off my bedroll. “Then why not tell him? You were his faithful dog in every other sense.” […]
Lucien snorted. “I didn’t tell him for two reasons. One, it felt like kicking a male already down. I couldn’t take that hope away from him.” I rolled my eyes. “Two,” he snapped, “I knew if I was correct and called you on it, you’d find a way to make sure I never saw her.”

Oh, right, Lucien’s entire character now is a nonstop “MYEE WHYFEEE” joke.

I bared my teeth at him. “And that’s why you’re here. Not because it’s right and he’s always been wrong, but just so you can get what you think you’re owed.”
“She is my mate and in my enemy’s hands—”

Lucien really puts the bore in Borat.

After Feyre accuses Lucien of only doing what’s right because he thinks her sister belongs to him (which… I mean, the entire last book of this series was about how magically predestined soul mates are a really real thing in this world… so, uh, I kinda feel like this one’s on you, book), Lucien counters by pointing out that… honestly I don’t know what he’s trying to do here. Complain that he wasn’t invited to a party where no one likes him, basically?

“Did you plan to spare me from your path of destruction because of any genuine friendship, or simply for fear of what it might do to her? [ed: I think “her” means Feyre’s sister? Who the hell knows what this story is even trying to say about love anymore] What was your grand plan for me before Ianthe interfered?”

Feyre: “Look, you keep defending your friends who treat me like shit.”
Lucien: “Wow, so I’m not invited to the BBQ? Rude.”
Feyre: “Also you won’t stop hitting on my sister and she told you she’s not interested.”
Lucien: Borat voice “MAI WIFE”

Feyre, in a rare moment where I totally get where she’s coming from, tells Lucien to quit whining.

I pulled at a stray thread in the bedroll. “You would have been fine,” was all I said.

They barely get any sleep between the cold and the constant fear about all their enemies who are out looking for them. Lucien explains that literally everyone in the country would sell them out to his father because he’s a Jeff Bezos-ass High Lord who barely pays his workers. Not that Lucien’s local expertise matters, since Feyre continues to be an expert in everything now just because she’s been a super faerie for twelve minutes.

“We head north,” I said. “Until the faebane is out of our systems and we can winnow.” Or I could contact Rhys and the others.
“My father’s court lies due northward. We’ll have to go to the east or west to avoid it.”
“No. East takes us too close to the Summer Court border. And I won’t lose time by going too far west. We go straight north.”
“My father’s sentries will easily spot us.”
“Then we’ll have to remain unseen,” I said, rising.

Feyre’s like your friend from out of town who thinks they’re an expert on your city’s subway because they have Google Maps. Lucien would totally send Feyre’s sister a dick pic. And yet these are the two most tolerable characters in this whole book, god help us.

They hike for five very awkward days, during which time the only notable thing that happens is Lucien catches a fish with his bare hands. I didn’t take many notes on this section, but I highlighted that for some reason. Now you all know that Lucien can catch a fish with his bare hands.

We get a short infodump about Lucien’s past and his motivations. He was the youngest of the High Lord’s seven sons, and spent a lot of time studying and training and chilling with common folk since nobody really cared what he did “since no one believed I’d be dumb enough to kill my way up the long list of heirs”. Feyre asks him if he even would want the crown, and Lucien – apparently considering the matter for the first time ever since “no one’s ever asked” – says he isn’t interested in the bloodshed it would take just to “rule over a crafty, two-faced people”, because even the characters who do fraternize with the working class in this story still lowkey hate them. (Casual reminder that Feyre’s goal right now is to get back to Rhysand, whose crowning achievement as High Lord is secretly splitting his country in two so he only has to spend time in the gentrified part.)

They reach the mountain range on the border between the Autumn and Winter Courts and have to risk a fire, and the chapter ends with them waking up to find that Lucien’s brothers have found them. Don’t forget that Feyre is very very good at plans, though.

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