Previously, the superfriends and the Illyrian army showed up to help the Summer Court defend against a surprise siege against Hybern’s army, and the King of Hybern himself showed up to moodily slouch around with his hands in his pockets and remind us that he’s not a remotely developed character. But damn what he sure knows how to shove his hands in his pockets. He’s so misunderstood and disaffected. He’s the coolest primary antagonist in high school.
A Court of Wings and Ruin: Chapter 38
Also don’t forget the entire last chapter featured a plot convenience so Feyre could narrate a scene that she wasn’t in Feyre stuck inside Rhysand’s mind. And maybe her body’s just kinda been standing there, motionless, in the middle of the street during Hybern’s entire slouchy, brooding, hands-in-pockets speech? This chapter opens up to Feyre coming back to Mor shaking her motionless, nonresponsive body, which interestingly sounds like it would have been a way scarier chapter than Rhysand’s snark-off with the King of Heathers.
Feyre notes that the Hybern army is retreating now that Rhysand’s power has been restored. But between the shock of returning to her body, the scene she witnessed with Hybern, and taking in the shock of the first real battle of the war, Feyre starts vomiting.
I vomited again. And again.
Mor put a hand on my back, rubbing soothing circles as I retched. “I did the same after my first battle. We all did.”
It wasn’t even a battle—not in the way I’d pictured: army against army on some unremarkable battlefield, chaotic and muddy. Even the real battle today had been out on the sea—where the Illyrians were now sailing inland.
I couldn’t bear to start counting how many made the return trip. […]
Mor squeezed my shoulder, as if she understood the racing thoughts, the foreignness of my body. The War had raged for seven years. Years. How long would this one last?
Yes, dear readers, the real war is only just beginning. And by that, I mean Feyre and Rhysand trying to have a conversation with anyone without sounding like total assholes who think they’re better than everyone else, because it’s time to re-encounter (checks notes) Prince Varian and High Lord Tarquin!
The middle level of the palace was a flurry of motion: blood-drenched Summer Court soldiers limped around healers and servants rushing to the injured being laid on the floor. […] I recognized [him] the same moment he spied me.
Varian, kneeling over an injured soldier with his thigh in ribbons, went utterly still as our eyes met. His brown skin was splattered in blood as bright as the rubies they’d sent to us
Wow, that bit of description was a goddamn cirque de soleil act of trying to somehow naturally remind the reader about the one thing this character did that’s important to the story.
Varian tells Feyre to go to the oak dining room, where she finds Tarquin, the High Lord of the Summer Court who Feyre has met once for the express purpose of pretending to gain his trust so she could steal a dangerous artifact from him and has since put out a price on her head.
The High Lord of the Summer Court looked up from the table as we paused on the threshold. Took in me, then Mor.
The kindness, the consideration that I had last seen on the High Lord’s face was gone. […]
“I heard you two cleared the palace. And helped clear the island. […] I thought you came to finish the job,” Tarquin said to me.
I didn’t dare move.
“I heard Tamlin took you. Then I heard the Spring Court fell. Collapsed from within. Its people in revolt. And you had vanished. And when I saw the Illyrian legion sweeping in … I thought you had come for me, too. To help Hybern finish us off.” […]
Y’all, I’m starting to think that maybe Feyre and Rhysand’s constantly acting in secret and lying to people might have something to do with how they have no allies.
“We would never ally with Hybern,” Mor said.
“I am talking to Feyre Archeron.”
I’d never heard Tarquin use that tone.
You’ve met him once, but continue.
“Our dreams are the same,” was all I could think to say. […]
“Is that how you justified stealing from me?”
My heart stumbled a beat.
Rhysand said from behind me, no doubt having winnowed in, “My mate and I had our reasons, Tarquin.”
Ok, now, sure, obviously it’d be a very boring book if our main characters didn’t have some pretty significant flaws or experience setbacks as a direct result of those flaws. Probably the one thing that’d make this book even more of a slog would be if Feyre and Rhysand were actually good at all the things they thought they were good at. The problem I have with it is that I’m not convinced yet the book sees their shortcomings as shortcomings, that it sees their failures as a result of their hubris instead of the cruel forces of a world that doesn’t understand them. It’s great that now that we’re finally getting to a moment where a character can confront them with how he and his people have been hurt as an unintentional but direct result of Feyre and Rhysand’s self-important scheming from the last book… but it’s impossible to ignore how, in the hundreds of pages in the meantime, this book has dedicated a lot of energy to setting up Rhysand as a tragic figure who just sacrifices so much – maybe too much??? – in his self-assigned mission as the only person who can save the world.
Tarquin’s face didn’t so much as shift from that cold wrath. “When you went into the Spring Court and deceived Tamlin as well about your true nature, when you destroyed his territory … You left the door open for Hybern. They docked in his harbors.” No doubt to wait for the wall to collapse and then sail south. Tarquin snarled, “It was an easy trip to my doorstep. You did this.”
I could have sworn I felt Rhys flinch through the bond. But my mate said calmly, “We did nothing. Hybern chooses its actions, not us.”
Ok, yeah, that definitely feels like a stretch. Come on, Tarquin! Our heroes do bad things for the greater good, obviously. They operate in shades of grey in a nuanced story that doesn’t operate with a black and white sense of morality! If you don’t understand how morally complex a world this is, how will you ever defeat King “I Think Racism Is Good And That’s My Entire Evil Motivation” Hybern?
He jerked his chin toward Tarquin. “My force shall remain camped in the hills until you’ve deemed the city secure. Then we will go.”
“And do you plan to steal anything else before you do?”
Rhys went utterly still. Debating, I realized, whether to apologize. Explain.
Don’t worry. Feyre spares Rhysand from a rare moment of self-reflection by enabling him again.
I spared him from the choice. “Tend to your wounded, Tarquin.”
“Don’t give me orders.” […]
Rhys said to Tarquin, “I didn’t have a choice. I did it to try to avoid this, Tarquin. To stop Hybern before he got this far.” His voice was strained.
I mean, imagine being accused of allying with an actual fascist regime trying to impose a systemic race-based hierarchy on the entire world and not taking that moment to pause and think, hm, maybe what we’re doing isn’t working how we intended.
Tarquin only said, “Get out. And take your army with you. We can hold the bay now that they don’t have surprise on their side.” […]
A pause. “Come to the meeting, Tarquin. We need you—Prythian needs you.”
Another beat of quiet. Then Tarquin said, “Get out. […] Take your mate and leave. And I’d suggest warning her not to give High Lords orders.”
I stiffened, about to whirl around, when Rhys said, “She is High Lady of the Night Court. She may do as she wishes.” […]
Tarquin let out a low, bitter laugh. “You do love to spit on tradition.” […]
Rhys pressed a kiss to my sweaty, blood-crusted temple and we vanished.
If you enjoyed today’s post, please consider buying the BBGT writers a cup of coffee? That’d be swell of you!
Dude Tarquin wanted to lowkey bang Feyre in the last book. I doubt he’s offended that “I’m so progressive” Rhys gave Feyre equal status when he spent their whole visit talking to her about how they shouldn’t be racist and stuff. That said, at least someone is mad. Will it have consequences? ………no.
What is more likely to happen? Tarquin being killed by Maas as punishment for not sucking up to Feyre and Rhysand or him being brought low and humbled so they have to save his life despite their friends telling them not to do, so our beloved protagonists can show how much better people they are than him?
The answer is always: whatever makes Feyre and Rhys look more perfect.
I think Tamlin is now my fave character because he’s the only one who hates them
And Nesta, my BFF
Once I read this summary, my first thought was “welp, can’t wait for this guy to die heroically saving our heroes and ‘overcoming’ his antipathy toward them” so put my vote down for the first option.
“The War had raged for seven years. Years. How long would this one last?”
I don’t understand how time works. Rhys and the others are like 525 so 7 years looks like a week to them?
Bruh Tarquin was totally within his rights to tell someone from another court not to give him orders, I don’t think it really had to do with “OOooO, FeyRE is gurl – guRL caNNoT OrdER ME”
“You’ve met him once, but continue.” not only made me laugh out loud but is such a good point. I keep forgetting how little time has passed and that Feyre barely knows a lot of these people. She was only back in the Spring Court for a month!