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i_read_whatSo last time, Hart bet double or nothing. And got nothing. Will he learn from this mistake?
So, it probably shouldn't surprise you that I really hate Hart's section of the book. And I hate it not for my usual reasons: it's not badly written or anything like that. If we're talking writing quality, Part Three is just as good as Part Two.
The problem is that there is only so long that I can take a character when he keeps making the same mistakes over and over again.
It's the addict's downward spiral, and while I do have some pity for the guy, I'm also so incredibly frustrated with him. It might be easier to take Hart's behavior if, despite the addiction, he actually seemed to want to be a good prince/eventual king. But so far, we've seen no sign of that.
Maybe, he'll figure it out. Maybe he'll pull it together. Maybe he'll ask for help, (one commenter suggested maybe Cheysuli compulsion could work on his issues - it'd be worth a try!). I guess we can only hope.
--
We rejoin Hart as he's walking into the Great Hall of the palace in Lestra. He's got Rael perched on his shoulder. And the conversation is dying out as he's recognized as the Cheysuli Prince of Solinde.
...this part actually confuses me a little:
And then the noise began again: whispers, murmurs, comments, in Homanan and Solindish, until Hart could no longer quite control the amusement that threatened to overtake his painstakingly practiced solemnity.
Those who know you, know better. Rael said pointedly.
Aye, but how many here know me? Tarron? No. He only believes he does. Dar? He knows me only as a mark.
As for the lady . . . inwardly. Hart sighed, by now surely the lady knows me only as a fool who risks her realm in silly games.
I'm not sure how Rael's dialogue matches what came before. I feel like maybe something got rewritten in editing, and Rael's dialogue wasn't updated to match? I'm just not sure what he's reacting to.
As for Hart's response...well, honestly, dude. Are any of these characters wrong? You HAVE been Dar's mark. You DID use the Third Seal as a gambling stake, without bothering to learn its significance. As for Tarron...what is he supposed to think about your behavior? If there's more to you than your fuck ups, it'd be a good time to show that.
I do think there's more to Hart than his fuck ups, granted. But Tarron's not really in a position to appreciate that.
But maybe it's time for Hart to show something he has learned growing up in Homana-Mujhar...
His years in Homana-Mujhar had taught him that kings conducted themselves with decorum at such formal festivities even when they did not feel it. He was not a king yet, but he needed the practice. Besides, the Solindish would expect it.
Now? Rael asked.
Now, Hart agreed. The better to impress them.
Accordingly, Rael lifted from Hart's arm and circled the huge hall, banking toward the high-backed chair set upon the dais. Women cried out at his passage and men set hands to knives; Rael swept relentlessly to the throne and settled himself upon the carved back. He spread his wings and shrieked aloud his dominance, then settled, folding his wings away, and surveyed all down the sharp hook of his deadly beak.
...well, it's definitely impressive. Is it really a great example of decorum though?
The response though is interesting:
Hart moved toward the dais, mounting the steps even as the throng fell back. He was aware of the whispers and hissed questions, as well as the subtle hostility on the part of the Solindish. From the Homanans he sensed only a quiet, abiding pride; if they did not relish the thought of having Homana held by shapechangers in place of Homanans, they at least were willing enough to put the Solindish in their place by using the reputation of the Cheysuli.
The Cheysuli have ruled Homana for forty years now, but as we can appreciate from Brennan's section, it's still a precarious state. Old hatreds die hard. But in Solinde, the context is different. The Cheysuli may not be Homanan, but they are of Homana, and that means something out here.
And hey, Hart finally gets to show us something other than unwarranted confidence:
He turned, trying to still the flutter of nervousness in his belly. Never before had he faced so many people as a ruler. Even in Homana he was only the second son, the prince who would trade his home for foreign lands. He was not Brennan, whose duties included nearly as many rituals and formalities as his father, the Mujhar, In Homana, he was simply Hart; Prince Hart, perhaps, by dint of his birth, but he had been easily overlooked.
Now, he found he could not be overlooked, even if he preferred it.
How they stare, all the eyes.
That does sound pretty terrifying. But really, why didn't Hart have duties in Homana? Why didn't Corin? It made sense that Ian and Isolde never had to take part in Niall's various heir to the throne duties, because they weren't inheriting anything on their own. But we've known from birth that Hart would rule Solinde and Corin would rule Atvia. If anything, their training should have been MORE vigorous. Even if they don't become TRUE kings of their various countries until Niall's death, it's clear that they're expected to start doing some kind of hands on governance before then. Brennan will have Niall right there. Hart and Corin won't!
...I mean, to be fair, I don't know what the hell Corin is expected to face in Atvia. It seems like Tarron had expected Hart to start acting as some kind of viceroy's aide. What the heck does ALARIC expect?
Anyway. I don't mean to excerpt this entire chapter, but there's a lot to show. And honestly, I think Hart's opening speech isn't a bad one:
"Hart of Homana, second-born son of Niall the Mujhar, and styled Prince of Solinde." He saw narrowing eyes and tightening faces among the Solindish; how glibly he stole their title. "I am sent to learn kingship in the land I will rule; to learn how to govern a people in vassalage to Homana." Solindish mouths drew taut and flat, though some of the faces were conspicuously blank so as not to give anything away. "It is my wish that Solinde know peace, not war; that the hostilities of the past be buried along with those who have died." He drew in a steadying breath. "It is my personal desire that the overweening ambitions of the Ihlini be laid bare for all to see, so that there need be no discord in a land that deserves far better."
That, as he expected, sparked shocked murmurs and curses of disbelief among the Solindish; the Homanans merely watched him curiously.
"It is known to Cheysuli and Homanan alike that the Ihlini call Solinde their homeland," Hart continued quietly. "It is not my intention to banish them from it, because not all serve Asar-Suti. But it is my intention to halt the hostility that they foment, and let Solinde remain Solindish—instead of a servant of the Ihlini."
This is where the story really benefits from the tripartite structure, I think. If we're just looking at Hart's section, then the focus on Ihlini in this speech would seem to come out of nowhere. (If anything, Hart himself has been a bigger threat to ruling Solinde than anything Ihlini). But well, WE know about Ihlini machinations.
Tarron has some constructive criticism. He thinks it would have been better if Hart had worn Solindish garb and left Rael at home.
"—and perhaps it would have been better had I not attended at all." Hart smiled coolly at Tarron. "Would you say so to the Mujhar, regent? Would you bid him dress Homanan when he is a Cheysuli warrior?"
The brown eyes reflected shock. "My lord—"
"I am not my jehan,” Hart said quietly. "I do not mean to be. But I am, first and foremost, Cheysuli. If I choose to wear leathers instead of velvets, I shall. If I choose to take Rael even into my bridal chamber, I shall. I shall, regent, do precisely as I please when it comes to my personal conduct." He caught up a cup of wine from a passing servant. "The Solindish will have to accept me as I am, Tarron, So will you."
For fuck's sake, you idiot. Your relationship to Solinde is a lot different than Niall's relationship with Homana. The Cheysuli didn't CONQUER Homana. The Cheysuli didn't invade Homana multiple times during the reign of two different monarchs. Donal was Carillon's chosen heir. He married Carillon's daughter, with Carillon's consent. Niall is Carillon's grandson and has Carillon's face. He is Homanan and Cheysuli, even if he doesn't show it.
Solinde, on the other hand, is a conquered realm! You have the right to rule only because your great-grandfather forced their princess into marriage. There's been invasion after invasion. They are angry and resentful of the fact that they're dealing with a foreign ruler. MAYBE if you leaned into the fact that you're a descendant of Bellam as much as a descendant of Carillon, you might get somewhere. But that thought never seems to cross your mind.
I'm not saying Hart has to agree with Tarron here, but Tarron's been ruling, apparently peacefully, for two decades. MAYBE it's worth at least consulting with the guy and hearing him out???
I do side-eye Tarron for his comment that so much gold will make people call Hart a barbarian. That seems a little racist dude. Hart just grins and points out that at least he's a wealthy one. And to be fair, Hart doesn't actually attribute racist motives to Tarron here. He notes that Tarron is dressed in good quality but very plain black. Hart's leathers are also plain, but he's wearing rune inscribed wristlets, torque, plated belt, sheath and knife. All heavy and gold.
a) a gold knife seems ineffective
b) that does seem rather ostentatious.
And I kind of love Tarron for this:
Tarron's mouth was flat. "And how long will you keep it?" he asked grimly. "You will lose it all in a fortune-game."
Hart grinned. "Here it is called Bezat."
The regent's jaw bunched as he gritted teeth. "My lord, if you will excuse me—"
"No." Hart smiled blandly. "It is time you made the introductions, regent, as you are the one who knows all the Solindish nobility. May I suggest you begin with those lords who desire to wed the Lady Ilsa?"
I am genuinely not sure how Tarron hasn't murdered him yet. If Tarron ends up turning sides to Strahan, I'm not sure I'd fucking blame him at this point.
So, anyway, Hart spends two hours (WOW) meeting a whole lot of Solindish rivals. They're polite, if insincere, in their welcome. And Hart already discovers an obstacle.
And as he opened his mouth to answer the first of them, he realized he dared give them only Homanan, or he would never be understood.
Jehan and Brennan—always said I should pay more attention to my language lessons . . . that one day my ignorance would catch me up. . . .
For fuck's sake dude. You actually learned this that first night in the tavern. If you wanted to justify your gambling addiction, then maybe you could have used the extra weeks to at least learn some properly pronounced Solindish greetings.
But we do get a moment of actual empathy here?
Hart looked at the gathered Solindish aristocracy. Uncomfortably, he realized that the vanquished always were required to give up more than land or status. They gave up language and culture as well, replacing both with the preferences of the victor.
How was it during Shaine's qu'mahlin? he wondered idly. How was it for the clans that had to flee Homana to live in foreign lands?
So maybe Tarron had a point? But it's a start.
The last person he's introduced to is Dar "of High Crags". He's got a blandly polite smile, but there's a glint in his eyes, and a twitch of amusement in his mouth. I'd bet. Hart asks how old his line is. Very old, apparently. His line has served Ilsa's for more than seven centuries.
Hart gets a pretty good zinger here when he asks, very politely: "And in all of that time has none of you ever wed into the royal house?"
It hits home, though Dar keeps his composure. He tries to retaliate by pointing out that the Cheysuli ruled Homana for a thousand years, gave it to the Homanans, and now took it back. But honestly, dude. That doesn't have the same sting. Hart merely answers that it's in accordance with the wishes of the gods and the prophecy.
Things get interesting here:
"Talmorra." Dar nodded. "Aye, I have heard of the fatalism that rules your race. And I have heard how blindly you serve it."
Tarron cleared his throat. "My lord of High Crags—my lord prince—"
"I think you may leave the lord of High Crags with me," Hart interrupted, without taking his eyes from Dar's. "Are there not things you must attend to?"
"Aye, my lord." In obvious relief, Tarron bowed quickly and departed.
Poor Tarron. I mean, as regent, he probably should step in here. But it's hard to blame him. Dar compliments Hart on the "neatly done" maneuver. Which is interesting. He doesn't seem the sort to care about the comfort of others.
Hart merely says there's a purpose to all things, even handing the Solindish throne to a Cheysuli Prince.
Maybe, but someone else has something to say about that:
The woman's voice was cool. "And was there a purpose in risking my horse in a game?" she asked. "And the Third Seal, my lord—what purpose in losing that?"
Hart inclined his head to acknowledge Ilsa's arrival.
"He was my horse, lady—freely given. As for the Seal, well—" He shrugged, grinning ruefully “—had I known it was the price that bought your willingness to marry, surely I would never have risked something so valuable."
She gazed at him wide-eyed in unfeigned astonishment. "My willingness to marry?"
Okay, NOW I think we're getting to see Hart at his strength. I still think his ability to read people over the gaming table is questionable. But this is very well done. Maybe Hart hadn't missed the significance of the horse after all.
Which makes betting it really fucking stupid.
Hart suggests that Ilsa ask Dar how he considers the ring as a way of "securing [her] as a cheysula". He does have to translate that for her. And I really do like Ilsa here.
Dar's hand was on Ilsa's arm. "That is none of your concern, shapechanger."
She slipped free easily, obviously well accustomed to avoiding the possessiveness of men, and turned to face Dar squarely. "But it is my concern." Delicate color deepened in her face to compete with the frost in her eyes. "Is it true, Dar? Do you think I will wed you because you hold the Seal, when it should be mine regardless?"
Dar's response is interesting. He tells her that he thinks she'll wed the man best able to help Solinde - he defines this as a strong, loyal Solindishman who can unite warring factions.
Hart's response is...uncharacteristically? clumsy:
"And take Solinde back from Homana?" Hart interposed. As they stared, he shook his head. "You reckon without the Cheysuli, who require this land—or at least the bloodlines from it."
1) the Solindish nationals aren't going to care about Cheysuli plans or Cheysuli bloodlines.
2) You don't actually need the bloodlines. You already have it through Electra. Though Ilsa seems to have forgotten too, as she identifies herself as the last of Bellam's line.
Does she mean direct descent? Because Bellam, as far as we knew, only had the son that Lindir rejected and Electra. Did he have another daughter? Or did she just mean the line as being shared.
(This does mean that Hart and Ilsa are distantly related. But only third cousins, at best. Possibly even fourth. In this series, that makes them strangers practically.)
Ilsa doesn't particularly want to wed either of them:
Still she smiled, though her eyes remained cool. "No," she said, "I would not. I want no man who values games over the welfare of Solinde.”
"Then I will stop," Dar said flatly. "I will stop altogether, here and now, no more to waste my time and wealth in foolish games of chance."
Ilsa turned to Hart. "What of you?" she asked. "Will you make me the same promise?"
Without hesitating. Hart shook his head. "No, lady, I will not."
Her mouth twisted, briefly ironic. "Honesty from you, at least, displeasing though it may be." She looked at Dar. "You are all you have described—strong, loyal, dedicated, and capable of uniting Solinde. I will indeed require man with the same abilities, but I will choose him myself." Coolly, she smiled. "I find it shameful that Solinde demands a man to rule when a woman could do as well—and I am deserving of it." She put out a slender hand. "Give me the ring, Dar. You know it is rightfully mine."
Ilsa's fucking badass. She deserves better than either of these idiots. Dar, conveniently, has left the ring at home.
And now we see that there are definitely warring factions:
"Ilsa." He cut her off, "We are old, old friends, and older adversaries in this game of men and women. You ask for honesty? I give you honesty . . . I give you a truth you may not like." He glanced at Hart as if regretting his presence, but continued regardless of it. "The Third Seal is mine, won fairly from a man who did not know what he risked. He lost. He lost it all, including his only chance to marry the woman he needs to marry, in order to hold this realm. But I won. I won. And I keep what I win, regardless of who else might want it... unless they are willing to pay the price."
Ugh.
Ilsa says, evenly, that she can rule without the ring. But, not without a Consort, says Dar. The Solindish lords will want a male heir. Ilsa points out that she could choose someone else. But Dar gets his smug exit line:
Dar shook his head. "She will do what is required. Ilsa has pride, integrity, honor . . . and an incredible sense of duty." He bowed his head in a courteous salute. "In the end, rather than leaving it to others, she will make the decision herself."
"Then leave me to it!" Ilsa said sharply. "Leave me altogether!"
Dar bowed. "Aye, my lady. At once."
Hart comments mildly on Ilsa's sharp tongue. She notes with Dar she needs one. She gives us some perspective on the Solindish side, and I like this a lot:
Ilsa looked at him sharply. "Not bedmates," she said dryly. "Nor enemies, to tell the truth." She sighed and sat down on the padded bench against the wall, deftly spreading crimson skirts to decorously cover gem-crusted leather slippers. "Since we were young, there was talk of uniting our houses. It was believed that Dar could provide Solinde with the strong leadership she requires."
She slanted him a glance from eloquent eyes. "You know, of course, that we prefer self-rule. We want no foreign overlord."
I really like that there's a sense of established history between these two characters. The complicated undercurrents of the realm are actually interesting. And seeing Hart be actually somewhat socially adept is refreshing. For the first time, I can actually appreciate Hart's strengths rather than his weaknesses. I don't think either uptight Brennan or chip-on-his-shoulder Corin would have this same ease.
Hart acknowledges that, if not for the prophecy, he'd be inclined to hand Solinde back to them. She asks why he doesn't, when he clearly has no interest. He explains:
"Because I aspire to the afterworld." Hart grinned and leaned back against the wall, stretching out long legs. "Out of character, she is thinking. A man who wagers the Third Seal of Solinde could not possibly concern himself with what happens after death." Then, more solemnly, "But I do. Every Cheysuli does. The gods have given us a place here in the world, and promise a better one when we are dead." He smiled wryly. "We need only be faithful children."
I mentioned before how one thing I really like about this book is that they're finally giving us an idea of what the prophecy actually MEANS to these characters beyond religious fanaticism. We saw Brennan's before. Now we see Hart's:
He gazed out at the people: at those who danced; who clustered to mutter of politics; who advocated rebellion and the taking of his life. "We are an old race," he said finally. "Thousands and thousands of years. We are children of the gods: it is what Cheysuli means." Still he stared, though his vision blurred and he saw only colors and candlelight. "The Homanans tried to slay us all, to annihilate us entirely, in a purge that lasted decades . . . the Ihlini have done it again and again, through sorcery, plague, intrigue. So many centuries of hatred, prejudice, fear ... so many years of being the hunted, not knowing if we would survive." He blinked and turned his head to look at Ilsa. "We survived because of the gods. Because of the afterworld. Because of the prophecy." Silently he turned a spread-fingered hand palm-up. "All of it shapes our lives. Without it, we would perish."
Brennan is focused on the vision of the future: peace, with a place even for their enemies. Hart's more focused on the now: survival. The prophecy is what keeps them going and keeps them alive. That's what it means to him.
I wonder what it means to Corin.
Ilsa asks a good question: how can someone so dedicated to the prophecy risk himself in a game. Hart is honest: he can't help it.
Ilsa frowned. "Cannot?" She shrugged. "I say, simply stop."
" 'Simply stop,' " he echoed, and grinned to himself.
"If you pride yourself on the discipline of the Cheysuli—"
"I pride myself on nothing." Abruptly he rose to tower over her. "Lady, we speak of private things. Let us dance instead."
Ilsa rose also, but disdained to take his outstretched hand. "No," she said coolly. "I think I would rather not." She turned to go, took four steps, turned back so abruptly rich skirts swung against the floor. Golden girdle chimed. "Dar has the right of it," she warned with infinite distinctness. "In the end, regardless of how I feel, I will do what is best for the realm,"
Harsh, but maybe not unwarranted. It's not Hart's fault that he has an addiction, nor that he's in a setting that doesn't really understand it. But it's not like we've seen him even try to fight it either. Maybe he has in the past. But he definitely seems to revel in it now.
The sad thing is, I think if he'd told Ilsa that he was trying...he might have won her over.
Hart, we're told, is a bit stunned by her departure. He's not used to women leaving him. He wonders if she went to Dar. But no, Dar is here. With a drink and some commiseration.
He carried two silver cups in his hands and offered one to Hart. "I swear, there is no poison. It would cheat me of my wager."
Hart, still stinging from Ilsa's rebuke, slanted her foremost suitor a black scowl. "No doubt the bet is against me."
Dar grinned. "Not entirely, though it does involve you." He tipped his head in the direction of the departed Ilsa. "Shall we drink to the lady, my lord, and to her unerring tongue?"
Reluctantly, Hart smiled. And then he laughed ruefully. "Aye, she has that. And uses it on us both."
Dar says that she's used it on him for many years, so it's time that she had a new target...though not a permanent one.
He asks if Hart's interested in the wager. Hm, dude, didn't you just promise Ilsa you'd stop gambling?
So what is the wager:
Dar's face was very intent. "For all she says she will marry who and when she pleases, Ilsa knows full well it cannot wait much longer. Perhaps a month at the most; the lords already request a decision from her." His eyes shrewdly assessed Hart's carefully arranged noncommittal expression. "She need only wed a Solindishman—myself, or another of equal wealth and station—in order to unite the warring factions of this realm. We cannot hope to win Solinde from Homana until we are as one, and there is only one way of uniting us: under a single man."
"You," Hart said, tasting ashes in his mouth.
"Or my son." Dar's tone was steady. "Under our laws, the man who weds Ilsa does not become King of Solinde, he becomes Ilsa's Consort—a position lacking the magnificence of a proper royal title, perhaps, but none of the power accorded his place beside Ilsa. Nor will she be Queen; Solindish law requires a male sovereign. But a son born of the lady and her Consort does become king upon his majority." He smiled. "Until he reaches that majority, his father acts as regent."
Ugh, no wonder Ilsa is annoyed.
Hart asks what happens if Ilsa weds Hart instead:
To his credit, Dar's expression did not alter. "If Ilsa weds you, it would alter the traditional lines of succession. No doubt you would claim yourself King . . . since Solinde is a vassal to Homana, it seems likely that title would not be contested." He shrugged. "We have been soundly beaten repeatedly by your ancestors. I doubt there would be any rebellion."
Hart shook his head. "There is no wager, Dar. Ilsa would never allow Solinde to be ruled by a Homanan."
"Would she not?" Dar stared grimly into his wine.
"Do not discount yourself, shapechanger. There are those in Solinde who do not want another war, preferring peace even to self-rule. They are very persuasive. And Ilsa—" He broke off, scowling blackly, then continued. "Ilsa is guarded by those who desire peace."
What does Ilsa's family say? Is she the last of her bloodline? Or just the best line of descent? I'm assuming it's a female line of descent, or that'd be mentioned. But I'm curious.
But I like the acknowledgment that Ilsa very well could choose Hart, legitimately. In a way, it's similar to what Carillon wanted from Electra. Though Electra, of course, was unwitting. But if Carillon had decided to look for ANOTHER royal woman? Ilsa's ancestress perhaps? Could things have gone better?
But this is where Dar is very very clever. Because he's just told Hart that all he really has to do is do nothing. Ilsa's choice right now is a charismatic Solindishman and war with a much more powerful nation, or a wastrel of a Homanan/Cheysuli, who would guarantee peace.
Ilsa dislikes Dar. She seems like she could grow to like Hart, if he made an effort. If he'd stop gambling away his fucking realm.
But Dar knows what Hart really wants...
Idly, Hart drank wine. "What are the stakes?" he asked.
"The highest," Dar answered. "I wager with my life."
Hart looked at him sharply. "Your life," he echoed, disbelieving the man.
"Aye," Dar agreed curtly. "Let it stand so: if Ilsa chooses you, I will give up my life and give back the Third Seal of Solinde."
Hart doesn't want Dar's life, but Dar admits that if Hart wins, he'll do whatever he can to throw Hart off the throne himself.
Which he's clearly trying to do right now, you moron. Ilsa is not on board with someone gambling away the entire realm. This pretty much guarantees that she won't pick you. Because you're an irresponsible asshole.
So if Hart loses?
Dar smiled. "You go home to Homana.''
Hart stared. "Go home—"
"Alive. Unharmed. Quite well . . . very much as you came." Dar, still smiling, shrugged. "But you will forfeit your claim on Solinde."
"And if she chooses neither?"
"Then we will find another game."
Hart chewed at his bottom lip, hearing the siren song of the challenge. I’ll lose Solinde, my jehan will forfeit me—
But he found himself clasping Dar's forearm; the wager was made and accepted.
Ugh, you fucking idiot.
So, it probably shouldn't surprise you that I really hate Hart's section of the book. And I hate it not for my usual reasons: it's not badly written or anything like that. If we're talking writing quality, Part Three is just as good as Part Two.
The problem is that there is only so long that I can take a character when he keeps making the same mistakes over and over again.
It's the addict's downward spiral, and while I do have some pity for the guy, I'm also so incredibly frustrated with him. It might be easier to take Hart's behavior if, despite the addiction, he actually seemed to want to be a good prince/eventual king. But so far, we've seen no sign of that.
Maybe, he'll figure it out. Maybe he'll pull it together. Maybe he'll ask for help, (one commenter suggested maybe Cheysuli compulsion could work on his issues - it'd be worth a try!). I guess we can only hope.
--
We rejoin Hart as he's walking into the Great Hall of the palace in Lestra. He's got Rael perched on his shoulder. And the conversation is dying out as he's recognized as the Cheysuli Prince of Solinde.
...this part actually confuses me a little:
And then the noise began again: whispers, murmurs, comments, in Homanan and Solindish, until Hart could no longer quite control the amusement that threatened to overtake his painstakingly practiced solemnity.
Those who know you, know better. Rael said pointedly.
Aye, but how many here know me? Tarron? No. He only believes he does. Dar? He knows me only as a mark.
As for the lady . . . inwardly. Hart sighed, by now surely the lady knows me only as a fool who risks her realm in silly games.
I'm not sure how Rael's dialogue matches what came before. I feel like maybe something got rewritten in editing, and Rael's dialogue wasn't updated to match? I'm just not sure what he's reacting to.
As for Hart's response...well, honestly, dude. Are any of these characters wrong? You HAVE been Dar's mark. You DID use the Third Seal as a gambling stake, without bothering to learn its significance. As for Tarron...what is he supposed to think about your behavior? If there's more to you than your fuck ups, it'd be a good time to show that.
I do think there's more to Hart than his fuck ups, granted. But Tarron's not really in a position to appreciate that.
But maybe it's time for Hart to show something he has learned growing up in Homana-Mujhar...
His years in Homana-Mujhar had taught him that kings conducted themselves with decorum at such formal festivities even when they did not feel it. He was not a king yet, but he needed the practice. Besides, the Solindish would expect it.
Now? Rael asked.
Now, Hart agreed. The better to impress them.
Accordingly, Rael lifted from Hart's arm and circled the huge hall, banking toward the high-backed chair set upon the dais. Women cried out at his passage and men set hands to knives; Rael swept relentlessly to the throne and settled himself upon the carved back. He spread his wings and shrieked aloud his dominance, then settled, folding his wings away, and surveyed all down the sharp hook of his deadly beak.
...well, it's definitely impressive. Is it really a great example of decorum though?
The response though is interesting:
Hart moved toward the dais, mounting the steps even as the throng fell back. He was aware of the whispers and hissed questions, as well as the subtle hostility on the part of the Solindish. From the Homanans he sensed only a quiet, abiding pride; if they did not relish the thought of having Homana held by shapechangers in place of Homanans, they at least were willing enough to put the Solindish in their place by using the reputation of the Cheysuli.
The Cheysuli have ruled Homana for forty years now, but as we can appreciate from Brennan's section, it's still a precarious state. Old hatreds die hard. But in Solinde, the context is different. The Cheysuli may not be Homanan, but they are of Homana, and that means something out here.
And hey, Hart finally gets to show us something other than unwarranted confidence:
He turned, trying to still the flutter of nervousness in his belly. Never before had he faced so many people as a ruler. Even in Homana he was only the second son, the prince who would trade his home for foreign lands. He was not Brennan, whose duties included nearly as many rituals and formalities as his father, the Mujhar, In Homana, he was simply Hart; Prince Hart, perhaps, by dint of his birth, but he had been easily overlooked.
Now, he found he could not be overlooked, even if he preferred it.
How they stare, all the eyes.
That does sound pretty terrifying. But really, why didn't Hart have duties in Homana? Why didn't Corin? It made sense that Ian and Isolde never had to take part in Niall's various heir to the throne duties, because they weren't inheriting anything on their own. But we've known from birth that Hart would rule Solinde and Corin would rule Atvia. If anything, their training should have been MORE vigorous. Even if they don't become TRUE kings of their various countries until Niall's death, it's clear that they're expected to start doing some kind of hands on governance before then. Brennan will have Niall right there. Hart and Corin won't!
...I mean, to be fair, I don't know what the hell Corin is expected to face in Atvia. It seems like Tarron had expected Hart to start acting as some kind of viceroy's aide. What the heck does ALARIC expect?
Anyway. I don't mean to excerpt this entire chapter, but there's a lot to show. And honestly, I think Hart's opening speech isn't a bad one:
"Hart of Homana, second-born son of Niall the Mujhar, and styled Prince of Solinde." He saw narrowing eyes and tightening faces among the Solindish; how glibly he stole their title. "I am sent to learn kingship in the land I will rule; to learn how to govern a people in vassalage to Homana." Solindish mouths drew taut and flat, though some of the faces were conspicuously blank so as not to give anything away. "It is my wish that Solinde know peace, not war; that the hostilities of the past be buried along with those who have died." He drew in a steadying breath. "It is my personal desire that the overweening ambitions of the Ihlini be laid bare for all to see, so that there need be no discord in a land that deserves far better."
That, as he expected, sparked shocked murmurs and curses of disbelief among the Solindish; the Homanans merely watched him curiously.
"It is known to Cheysuli and Homanan alike that the Ihlini call Solinde their homeland," Hart continued quietly. "It is not my intention to banish them from it, because not all serve Asar-Suti. But it is my intention to halt the hostility that they foment, and let Solinde remain Solindish—instead of a servant of the Ihlini."
This is where the story really benefits from the tripartite structure, I think. If we're just looking at Hart's section, then the focus on Ihlini in this speech would seem to come out of nowhere. (If anything, Hart himself has been a bigger threat to ruling Solinde than anything Ihlini). But well, WE know about Ihlini machinations.
Tarron has some constructive criticism. He thinks it would have been better if Hart had worn Solindish garb and left Rael at home.
"—and perhaps it would have been better had I not attended at all." Hart smiled coolly at Tarron. "Would you say so to the Mujhar, regent? Would you bid him dress Homanan when he is a Cheysuli warrior?"
The brown eyes reflected shock. "My lord—"
"I am not my jehan,” Hart said quietly. "I do not mean to be. But I am, first and foremost, Cheysuli. If I choose to wear leathers instead of velvets, I shall. If I choose to take Rael even into my bridal chamber, I shall. I shall, regent, do precisely as I please when it comes to my personal conduct." He caught up a cup of wine from a passing servant. "The Solindish will have to accept me as I am, Tarron, So will you."
For fuck's sake, you idiot. Your relationship to Solinde is a lot different than Niall's relationship with Homana. The Cheysuli didn't CONQUER Homana. The Cheysuli didn't invade Homana multiple times during the reign of two different monarchs. Donal was Carillon's chosen heir. He married Carillon's daughter, with Carillon's consent. Niall is Carillon's grandson and has Carillon's face. He is Homanan and Cheysuli, even if he doesn't show it.
Solinde, on the other hand, is a conquered realm! You have the right to rule only because your great-grandfather forced their princess into marriage. There's been invasion after invasion. They are angry and resentful of the fact that they're dealing with a foreign ruler. MAYBE if you leaned into the fact that you're a descendant of Bellam as much as a descendant of Carillon, you might get somewhere. But that thought never seems to cross your mind.
I'm not saying Hart has to agree with Tarron here, but Tarron's been ruling, apparently peacefully, for two decades. MAYBE it's worth at least consulting with the guy and hearing him out???
I do side-eye Tarron for his comment that so much gold will make people call Hart a barbarian. That seems a little racist dude. Hart just grins and points out that at least he's a wealthy one. And to be fair, Hart doesn't actually attribute racist motives to Tarron here. He notes that Tarron is dressed in good quality but very plain black. Hart's leathers are also plain, but he's wearing rune inscribed wristlets, torque, plated belt, sheath and knife. All heavy and gold.
a) a gold knife seems ineffective
b) that does seem rather ostentatious.
And I kind of love Tarron for this:
Tarron's mouth was flat. "And how long will you keep it?" he asked grimly. "You will lose it all in a fortune-game."
Hart grinned. "Here it is called Bezat."
The regent's jaw bunched as he gritted teeth. "My lord, if you will excuse me—"
"No." Hart smiled blandly. "It is time you made the introductions, regent, as you are the one who knows all the Solindish nobility. May I suggest you begin with those lords who desire to wed the Lady Ilsa?"
I am genuinely not sure how Tarron hasn't murdered him yet. If Tarron ends up turning sides to Strahan, I'm not sure I'd fucking blame him at this point.
So, anyway, Hart spends two hours (WOW) meeting a whole lot of Solindish rivals. They're polite, if insincere, in their welcome. And Hart already discovers an obstacle.
And as he opened his mouth to answer the first of them, he realized he dared give them only Homanan, or he would never be understood.
Jehan and Brennan—always said I should pay more attention to my language lessons . . . that one day my ignorance would catch me up. . . .
For fuck's sake dude. You actually learned this that first night in the tavern. If you wanted to justify your gambling addiction, then maybe you could have used the extra weeks to at least learn some properly pronounced Solindish greetings.
But we do get a moment of actual empathy here?
Hart looked at the gathered Solindish aristocracy. Uncomfortably, he realized that the vanquished always were required to give up more than land or status. They gave up language and culture as well, replacing both with the preferences of the victor.
How was it during Shaine's qu'mahlin? he wondered idly. How was it for the clans that had to flee Homana to live in foreign lands?
So maybe Tarron had a point? But it's a start.
The last person he's introduced to is Dar "of High Crags". He's got a blandly polite smile, but there's a glint in his eyes, and a twitch of amusement in his mouth. I'd bet. Hart asks how old his line is. Very old, apparently. His line has served Ilsa's for more than seven centuries.
Hart gets a pretty good zinger here when he asks, very politely: "And in all of that time has none of you ever wed into the royal house?"
It hits home, though Dar keeps his composure. He tries to retaliate by pointing out that the Cheysuli ruled Homana for a thousand years, gave it to the Homanans, and now took it back. But honestly, dude. That doesn't have the same sting. Hart merely answers that it's in accordance with the wishes of the gods and the prophecy.
Things get interesting here:
"Talmorra." Dar nodded. "Aye, I have heard of the fatalism that rules your race. And I have heard how blindly you serve it."
Tarron cleared his throat. "My lord of High Crags—my lord prince—"
"I think you may leave the lord of High Crags with me," Hart interrupted, without taking his eyes from Dar's. "Are there not things you must attend to?"
"Aye, my lord." In obvious relief, Tarron bowed quickly and departed.
Poor Tarron. I mean, as regent, he probably should step in here. But it's hard to blame him. Dar compliments Hart on the "neatly done" maneuver. Which is interesting. He doesn't seem the sort to care about the comfort of others.
Hart merely says there's a purpose to all things, even handing the Solindish throne to a Cheysuli Prince.
Maybe, but someone else has something to say about that:
The woman's voice was cool. "And was there a purpose in risking my horse in a game?" she asked. "And the Third Seal, my lord—what purpose in losing that?"
Hart inclined his head to acknowledge Ilsa's arrival.
"He was my horse, lady—freely given. As for the Seal, well—" He shrugged, grinning ruefully “—had I known it was the price that bought your willingness to marry, surely I would never have risked something so valuable."
She gazed at him wide-eyed in unfeigned astonishment. "My willingness to marry?"
Okay, NOW I think we're getting to see Hart at his strength. I still think his ability to read people over the gaming table is questionable. But this is very well done. Maybe Hart hadn't missed the significance of the horse after all.
Which makes betting it really fucking stupid.
Hart suggests that Ilsa ask Dar how he considers the ring as a way of "securing [her] as a cheysula". He does have to translate that for her. And I really do like Ilsa here.
Dar's hand was on Ilsa's arm. "That is none of your concern, shapechanger."
She slipped free easily, obviously well accustomed to avoiding the possessiveness of men, and turned to face Dar squarely. "But it is my concern." Delicate color deepened in her face to compete with the frost in her eyes. "Is it true, Dar? Do you think I will wed you because you hold the Seal, when it should be mine regardless?"
Dar's response is interesting. He tells her that he thinks she'll wed the man best able to help Solinde - he defines this as a strong, loyal Solindishman who can unite warring factions.
Hart's response is...uncharacteristically? clumsy:
"And take Solinde back from Homana?" Hart interposed. As they stared, he shook his head. "You reckon without the Cheysuli, who require this land—or at least the bloodlines from it."
1) the Solindish nationals aren't going to care about Cheysuli plans or Cheysuli bloodlines.
2) You don't actually need the bloodlines. You already have it through Electra. Though Ilsa seems to have forgotten too, as she identifies herself as the last of Bellam's line.
Does she mean direct descent? Because Bellam, as far as we knew, only had the son that Lindir rejected and Electra. Did he have another daughter? Or did she just mean the line as being shared.
(This does mean that Hart and Ilsa are distantly related. But only third cousins, at best. Possibly even fourth. In this series, that makes them strangers practically.)
Ilsa doesn't particularly want to wed either of them:
Still she smiled, though her eyes remained cool. "No," she said, "I would not. I want no man who values games over the welfare of Solinde.”
"Then I will stop," Dar said flatly. "I will stop altogether, here and now, no more to waste my time and wealth in foolish games of chance."
Ilsa turned to Hart. "What of you?" she asked. "Will you make me the same promise?"
Without hesitating. Hart shook his head. "No, lady, I will not."
Her mouth twisted, briefly ironic. "Honesty from you, at least, displeasing though it may be." She looked at Dar. "You are all you have described—strong, loyal, dedicated, and capable of uniting Solinde. I will indeed require man with the same abilities, but I will choose him myself." Coolly, she smiled. "I find it shameful that Solinde demands a man to rule when a woman could do as well—and I am deserving of it." She put out a slender hand. "Give me the ring, Dar. You know it is rightfully mine."
Ilsa's fucking badass. She deserves better than either of these idiots. Dar, conveniently, has left the ring at home.
And now we see that there are definitely warring factions:
"Ilsa." He cut her off, "We are old, old friends, and older adversaries in this game of men and women. You ask for honesty? I give you honesty . . . I give you a truth you may not like." He glanced at Hart as if regretting his presence, but continued regardless of it. "The Third Seal is mine, won fairly from a man who did not know what he risked. He lost. He lost it all, including his only chance to marry the woman he needs to marry, in order to hold this realm. But I won. I won. And I keep what I win, regardless of who else might want it... unless they are willing to pay the price."
Ugh.
Ilsa says, evenly, that she can rule without the ring. But, not without a Consort, says Dar. The Solindish lords will want a male heir. Ilsa points out that she could choose someone else. But Dar gets his smug exit line:
Dar shook his head. "She will do what is required. Ilsa has pride, integrity, honor . . . and an incredible sense of duty." He bowed his head in a courteous salute. "In the end, rather than leaving it to others, she will make the decision herself."
"Then leave me to it!" Ilsa said sharply. "Leave me altogether!"
Dar bowed. "Aye, my lady. At once."
Hart comments mildly on Ilsa's sharp tongue. She notes with Dar she needs one. She gives us some perspective on the Solindish side, and I like this a lot:
Ilsa looked at him sharply. "Not bedmates," she said dryly. "Nor enemies, to tell the truth." She sighed and sat down on the padded bench against the wall, deftly spreading crimson skirts to decorously cover gem-crusted leather slippers. "Since we were young, there was talk of uniting our houses. It was believed that Dar could provide Solinde with the strong leadership she requires."
She slanted him a glance from eloquent eyes. "You know, of course, that we prefer self-rule. We want no foreign overlord."
I really like that there's a sense of established history between these two characters. The complicated undercurrents of the realm are actually interesting. And seeing Hart be actually somewhat socially adept is refreshing. For the first time, I can actually appreciate Hart's strengths rather than his weaknesses. I don't think either uptight Brennan or chip-on-his-shoulder Corin would have this same ease.
Hart acknowledges that, if not for the prophecy, he'd be inclined to hand Solinde back to them. She asks why he doesn't, when he clearly has no interest. He explains:
"Because I aspire to the afterworld." Hart grinned and leaned back against the wall, stretching out long legs. "Out of character, she is thinking. A man who wagers the Third Seal of Solinde could not possibly concern himself with what happens after death." Then, more solemnly, "But I do. Every Cheysuli does. The gods have given us a place here in the world, and promise a better one when we are dead." He smiled wryly. "We need only be faithful children."
I mentioned before how one thing I really like about this book is that they're finally giving us an idea of what the prophecy actually MEANS to these characters beyond religious fanaticism. We saw Brennan's before. Now we see Hart's:
He gazed out at the people: at those who danced; who clustered to mutter of politics; who advocated rebellion and the taking of his life. "We are an old race," he said finally. "Thousands and thousands of years. We are children of the gods: it is what Cheysuli means." Still he stared, though his vision blurred and he saw only colors and candlelight. "The Homanans tried to slay us all, to annihilate us entirely, in a purge that lasted decades . . . the Ihlini have done it again and again, through sorcery, plague, intrigue. So many centuries of hatred, prejudice, fear ... so many years of being the hunted, not knowing if we would survive." He blinked and turned his head to look at Ilsa. "We survived because of the gods. Because of the afterworld. Because of the prophecy." Silently he turned a spread-fingered hand palm-up. "All of it shapes our lives. Without it, we would perish."
Brennan is focused on the vision of the future: peace, with a place even for their enemies. Hart's more focused on the now: survival. The prophecy is what keeps them going and keeps them alive. That's what it means to him.
I wonder what it means to Corin.
Ilsa asks a good question: how can someone so dedicated to the prophecy risk himself in a game. Hart is honest: he can't help it.
Ilsa frowned. "Cannot?" She shrugged. "I say, simply stop."
" 'Simply stop,' " he echoed, and grinned to himself.
"If you pride yourself on the discipline of the Cheysuli—"
"I pride myself on nothing." Abruptly he rose to tower over her. "Lady, we speak of private things. Let us dance instead."
Ilsa rose also, but disdained to take his outstretched hand. "No," she said coolly. "I think I would rather not." She turned to go, took four steps, turned back so abruptly rich skirts swung against the floor. Golden girdle chimed. "Dar has the right of it," she warned with infinite distinctness. "In the end, regardless of how I feel, I will do what is best for the realm,"
Harsh, but maybe not unwarranted. It's not Hart's fault that he has an addiction, nor that he's in a setting that doesn't really understand it. But it's not like we've seen him even try to fight it either. Maybe he has in the past. But he definitely seems to revel in it now.
The sad thing is, I think if he'd told Ilsa that he was trying...he might have won her over.
Hart, we're told, is a bit stunned by her departure. He's not used to women leaving him. He wonders if she went to Dar. But no, Dar is here. With a drink and some commiseration.
He carried two silver cups in his hands and offered one to Hart. "I swear, there is no poison. It would cheat me of my wager."
Hart, still stinging from Ilsa's rebuke, slanted her foremost suitor a black scowl. "No doubt the bet is against me."
Dar grinned. "Not entirely, though it does involve you." He tipped his head in the direction of the departed Ilsa. "Shall we drink to the lady, my lord, and to her unerring tongue?"
Reluctantly, Hart smiled. And then he laughed ruefully. "Aye, she has that. And uses it on us both."
Dar says that she's used it on him for many years, so it's time that she had a new target...though not a permanent one.
He asks if Hart's interested in the wager. Hm, dude, didn't you just promise Ilsa you'd stop gambling?
So what is the wager:
Dar's face was very intent. "For all she says she will marry who and when she pleases, Ilsa knows full well it cannot wait much longer. Perhaps a month at the most; the lords already request a decision from her." His eyes shrewdly assessed Hart's carefully arranged noncommittal expression. "She need only wed a Solindishman—myself, or another of equal wealth and station—in order to unite the warring factions of this realm. We cannot hope to win Solinde from Homana until we are as one, and there is only one way of uniting us: under a single man."
"You," Hart said, tasting ashes in his mouth.
"Or my son." Dar's tone was steady. "Under our laws, the man who weds Ilsa does not become King of Solinde, he becomes Ilsa's Consort—a position lacking the magnificence of a proper royal title, perhaps, but none of the power accorded his place beside Ilsa. Nor will she be Queen; Solindish law requires a male sovereign. But a son born of the lady and her Consort does become king upon his majority." He smiled. "Until he reaches that majority, his father acts as regent."
Ugh, no wonder Ilsa is annoyed.
Hart asks what happens if Ilsa weds Hart instead:
To his credit, Dar's expression did not alter. "If Ilsa weds you, it would alter the traditional lines of succession. No doubt you would claim yourself King . . . since Solinde is a vassal to Homana, it seems likely that title would not be contested." He shrugged. "We have been soundly beaten repeatedly by your ancestors. I doubt there would be any rebellion."
Hart shook his head. "There is no wager, Dar. Ilsa would never allow Solinde to be ruled by a Homanan."
"Would she not?" Dar stared grimly into his wine.
"Do not discount yourself, shapechanger. There are those in Solinde who do not want another war, preferring peace even to self-rule. They are very persuasive. And Ilsa—" He broke off, scowling blackly, then continued. "Ilsa is guarded by those who desire peace."
What does Ilsa's family say? Is she the last of her bloodline? Or just the best line of descent? I'm assuming it's a female line of descent, or that'd be mentioned. But I'm curious.
But I like the acknowledgment that Ilsa very well could choose Hart, legitimately. In a way, it's similar to what Carillon wanted from Electra. Though Electra, of course, was unwitting. But if Carillon had decided to look for ANOTHER royal woman? Ilsa's ancestress perhaps? Could things have gone better?
But this is where Dar is very very clever. Because he's just told Hart that all he really has to do is do nothing. Ilsa's choice right now is a charismatic Solindishman and war with a much more powerful nation, or a wastrel of a Homanan/Cheysuli, who would guarantee peace.
Ilsa dislikes Dar. She seems like she could grow to like Hart, if he made an effort. If he'd stop gambling away his fucking realm.
But Dar knows what Hart really wants...
Idly, Hart drank wine. "What are the stakes?" he asked.
"The highest," Dar answered. "I wager with my life."
Hart looked at him sharply. "Your life," he echoed, disbelieving the man.
"Aye," Dar agreed curtly. "Let it stand so: if Ilsa chooses you, I will give up my life and give back the Third Seal of Solinde."
Hart doesn't want Dar's life, but Dar admits that if Hart wins, he'll do whatever he can to throw Hart off the throne himself.
Which he's clearly trying to do right now, you moron. Ilsa is not on board with someone gambling away the entire realm. This pretty much guarantees that she won't pick you. Because you're an irresponsible asshole.
So if Hart loses?
Dar smiled. "You go home to Homana.''
Hart stared. "Go home—"
"Alive. Unharmed. Quite well . . . very much as you came." Dar, still smiling, shrugged. "But you will forfeit your claim on Solinde."
"And if she chooses neither?"
"Then we will find another game."
Hart chewed at his bottom lip, hearing the siren song of the challenge. I’ll lose Solinde, my jehan will forfeit me—
But he found himself clasping Dar's forearm; the wager was made and accepted.
Ugh, you fucking idiot.
Oh goodness
Date: 2023-08-03 06:11 am (UTC)So, it probably shouldn't surprise you that I really hate Hart's section of the book. And I hate it not for my usual reasons: it's not badly written or anything like that. If we're talking writing quality, Part Three is just as good as Part Two.
Hart's monumental stupidity is intentional, for sure, unlike in many bad works where people even dumber than him are immune to consequences. That makes him easier, but not easy, to watch.
Re: Oh goodness
Date: 2023-08-03 07:23 am (UTC)It's hard though. There are writers who can write really effective stories about unlikable characters, but without some kind of payoff, it often feels very unsatisfying.