Pride of Princes - Part Three, Chapter Six

[kalinara]

So last time, Hart managed to do reasonably well navigating a social setting, and even seemed to be making some measurable progress with Ilsa! Which of course means that he had to ruin it by falling for his rival's blatant sabotage and manipulation.

Perhaps my frustration will make more sense if I tell you that this is actually the penultimate chapter of Part Three. There's only Chapter Seven and an Interlude left, before we move onto Corin. So yeah.

I'm happy that it means we finally move onto a different lead, but that's not a lot of time for Hart to pull himself together...



So we start off with Hart, waking up in the morning after his party. He's feeling haunted and disoriented, and we're told that the latter is mostly because he'd been out most of the night, drinking and gambling with Dar and a few other lordlings in a private chamber, while the party continued in the Great Hall.

Hart actually does feel guilty about this! At least per Homanan customs, he'd been incredibly rude, especially since it's HIS celebration. But in Homana, he wouldn't have been able to slip away. In Solinde, there's no one that would stop him. (Except Tarron, but he'd made sure to evade the poor guy's notice.)

Hart's got bigger reasons to angst though as he remembers the big wager with Dar. But for the right reasons?

His eyes popped open. The wager . . . the wager with Dar, on Ilsa. Swearing, he rolled over onto his belly and buried his face in feather-stuffed bolsters, half hoping he could smother himself and forget all about Dar and his infamous wager. Oh, gods, lir . . . I have wagered away my freedom.

Rael stirred on his perch. Have you?

Hart groaned aloud and clenched ringers in the silk of his bedclothes. The wager with Dar, on Ilsa—on who will win her hand— He groaned again, feelingly. How could I have been so foolish?

I mean, you also wagered your fucking KINGDOM. I mean, sure, that's far less important than your freedom...

It seems like Rael's finally had enough of his partner too, giving Hart some harsh truths here:

The last is easy to answer. Rael's tone lacked sympathy. When the craving is on you, you are no man, no warrior, no prince—you are nothing more than a hound smelling a bitch in season . . . save the bitch is no dog at all, but the wager itself.

After a moment Hart lifted his face out of the bolsters and turned his head to stare at the hawk through the gauzy draperies. "How eloquent," he said grimly; there was no humor in his tone.

How do you know you have lost your freedom? Rael asked. In order to lose it you must win the woman, and there is nothing that leads me to believe you will.

Unexpectedly, the dry summation hurt. Hart frowned.

"Nothing?"

Nothing. Rael's pattern within the lir-link was infinitely assured; for once he did not offer the crutch of meaningless reassurance to his irresponsible lir, though the habit was hard to break.

Thank you, Rael.

If nothing else, I suspect that if Ilsa ever found out about this wager, both boys would be shit out of luck here. Maybe she can write to Niall and propose marrying a different brother for the throne?

You know how I bitched about Roberson writing Brennan as though he was fucking his cat? Hart's decided to one-up his twin in the bestiality implications here:

Hart sat up and tried to drag the hangings aside, swearing as fabric tangled and obscured his vision of Rael entirely. Finally he ripped them apart and climbed out of the huge bed, naked save for lir-gold.

"Nothing?" he repeated, elaborately distinct.

Why are you posing naked for your bird?

Roberson, why are you like this?

Rael asks Hart what he actually offers Ilsa.

"A title. Improved status. Greater respect in the realm." Hart shrugged, spreading his hands. "Power as well, though not as much as I hold."

And whoa, Rael is coming in hot! He asks what power Hart holds. Hart points out that he's the Prince of Homana.

Who spends his time wagering on improbable outcomes such as who the last of Bellam's line will wed. Rael couched his words in brutal candor. Say again what you offer the woman, lir—and then realize that she can have precisely the same if you are sent home to Homana ... or if you are dead.

Ouch. But true. And Hart feels it like a kick to the belly. Or a talon to the groin.

It really bugs me that the book keeps referring to Ilsa as the last of Bellam's line. She might be the last of Bellam's line that actually lives in Solinde, sure. But HART is a descendant of Bellam too. So are his siblings.

I know Roberson knows this, because there's a family tree in the back of the book. (Hilariously, said family tree completely spoils Brennan's story arc, because Rhiannon is listed as the child of Lillith and Ian, but there you go.)

I'd show you, but there are spoilers for Hart and Corin's sections too.

Anyway, sorry for the tangent. I have a thing about semantics, if you haven't noticed.

I also don't agree with Rael's read on the situation. I think there are advantages that Hart offers Ilsa, which she recognizes. But Rael's words are what Hart probably needs to hear right now.

Think, lir. For once. See yourself as others see you. Rael paused. No. See yourself as the lady herself must. And tell me again you have wagered away your freedom.

It curdled the wine in his belly. Hart turned from the hawk and went back to the bed, clutching one of the testers for support. It was never pleasant listening to others decry his habits, but he had always had the enviable capacity to cheerfully dismiss the comments, the fraternal and paternal lectures, knowing no one stayed angry at him for very long. He was not a man for moods and high temper, as Corin was; neither was he willing to shoulder all the burdens of his rank and future, as Brennan had always been. What he offered was friendly camaraderie, cheerful companionship, generosity of spirit.

He was not a bad man. He was not a bad brother, bad son, bad friend, or bad warrior.

"But I am a bad prince."

I mean...yeah. Basically. And I don't disagree with Hart's assessment of his good qualities, but it's a shame he really hadn't gotten the chance to showcase them so far.

So yeah, Hart's gotten a pretty big reality check right now. Right now, at least, Ilsa won't have him. And if she does choose Dar, then Hart will be sent out of Solinde in disgrace.

Just like Homana, Rael points out. Which hurts.

It's also probably not true. I mean, let's be real here. Hart is a fucking moron who agreed to stake his kingdom in a ridiculous bet, sure. But it's not actually his kingdom yet.

NIALL is the king of Homana and Solinde. Niall has the big fucking army that's conquered them at least twice. Does he have any reason to hold to the terms of Hart's bet? Does Solinde have any possible means to force him to do so? No!

But that said, it WOULD be a disgrace for Hart specifically to lose Solinde. Something that finally seems to be sinking in.

Rael points out, also, that by losing Solinde, Hart will alter the prophecy. And this bit is interesting, because I think it really shows us the root of Hart's issues with responsibility:

"How?" Hart challenged. "I am a second son, the middle son, obligated to no betrothal. It does not matter who I wed, how many children I sire—or who they wed. Let Brennan know that burden, lir ... I need not."

The wine has replaced your wits. Rael’s tone lacked the bite of earlier comments, sliding instead toward customary patience and wry acknowledgment of Hart's shortcomings. But it did not make his words less telling. Whether you wed a Solindish woman does not matter—it does not matter if you wed at all—but it does matter if you hold Solinde. The prophecy involves four realms, not three. If you lose Solinde now, it will be lost forever . . . and the Ihlini victorious.

I mean, as mentioned, Niall has no reason to honor the terms of Hart's bet.

I do think this second son bit of dialogue is meant to be an insight into Hart's underlying issues, apart from the gambling addiction. But in my opinion, it doesn't really work.

It makes some sense if we're looking at the prophecy in terms of bloodline (which this series is primarily focused on). Hart, as the third child of five - four of whom having the ideal racial percentage mix to pass on to the next step in the prophecy, is pretty redundant. They only really need ONE of them to bear or sire the next generational link. Any extras can be potential marriage partners. So, okay, yes. In that sense, I can understand Hart feeling unimportant.

But it falls apart when we remember that Hart is supposed to fucking rule a country. They've known this for literally his entire life. Which means that Niall, who has otherwise been characterized as a damn good king and a mostly decent father, looks like a fucking imbecile!

WHY was Hart ALLOWED to skip his language lessons? Did no one realize that the guy should probably speak the language of the country he's supposed to rule?

Why is Brennan the only child taking part in these council meetings and other pre-governing lessons? Hart and Corin absolutely need those skills too! More so, given that Solinde is a conquered nation full of Ihlini, and Atvia is...well...ATVIA. If anything, Niall would have been better off making his YOUNGER sons sit in on those meetings and forcing his oldest to go get a freaking social life. Maybe a little less naivety would have helped him not fall head first into Jarek and Rhiannon's trap!

Sorry, I'm repetitive. But honestly!

So anyway, Hart is definitely regretting this wager. It's the highest stakes ever, and he can't even enjoy it. And Rael gets another good line when he asks what Hart is really mourning for: the loss of enjoyment, the loss of freedom, or the loss of a realm.

And oh, FINALLY. FINALLY.

Hart did not answer at once. He stared blankly into the room, lost inside his head, knowing only that his need of the game had accounted for more than his current predicament. For the first time he fully acknowledged that he alone was responsible for the fire, for the loss of life in the Midden. Regardless of the kind of people they were, they had not deserved to die because of his selfish irresponsibility.

"Thirty-two people," he said hollowly, and his mind fashioned a vision: Brennan, standing before the stained-glass casements in the Great Hall of Homana-Mujhar, visibly stunned by the loss of life; Brennan, shouting at Corin that it did not matter if he felt inconvenienced about having to go to Atvia when people were dead; Brennan, feeling more keenly the deaths of the people in the Midden because he was a responsible man.

Oh, rujho, I wish you were here to tell me what to do.

But Brennan was not. And so Hart did his own responsible decision-making for the first time in his life.

We are only six chapters overdue here.

(To be fair, I don't think Hart is "alone" in being responsible for the fire. All three of the boys went out that night and went where they shouldn't. But being stupid doesn't mean they deserved to be the target of a racial attack. Everyone bears some of the responsibility and fault.)

So what is Hart's responsible decision?

He goes to Ilsa. And actually, for once, he seems to comprehend exactly how he fucked up:

Hart was admitted at once into the city home in which Ilsa dwelled and was shown to a small walled garden. At first he did not see her, wondering if he was meant to wait for hours while his impatience grew; then he did see her, and his fine intentions went out of his head. He could think of no way to speak plainly with her, to tell her of the wager that reduced her to chattel instead of independent woman, knowing how she would feel. And knowing what she would say.

I mean...honesty would be a start. If you have any hope of salvaging this, then honesty is the only start.

As usual, she gets an entire paragraph to describe her beauty. I'll spare you, the gist is, she's dressed quite plainly and carrying a basket of flowers.

He decides to lay on the charm and ask her to ride with him. Probably not the best approach, since she asks on what? He wagered his horse away.

He explains his rationale:

"Aye," he agreed, "I did. Foolishly, selfishly, I sought to goad Dar into a wager that would win back the Third Seal, knowing he could not turn his back on the knowledge you had given the horse to me. And the gambit was successful."

"Except you lost the horse."

"Losing is always a risk, Ilsa. Even now."

I mean...that's the PROBLEM. Hart has never learned that some things are too important to risk.

And ugh:

"We have nothing to say to one another."

"Oh, lady, we do." His thumb rubbed the top of her forearm, glorying in the delicate texture of her skin. "Come with me, Ilsa. Please."

Coolly she pulled free of his hand and its intimacy, bending to scoop up the basket. She hooked both arms through calmly, as if to put up a barrier between them.

"I will order a horse saddled for me. You may wait, my lord."

I really wish he weren't so...ugh. Don't TOUCH her dude. Just TALK to her. You've acknowledged that you treated her like chattel instead of an independent woman. TREAT HER LIKE AN INDEPENDENT WOMAN.

Hart has the NERVE to be impatient here, and wonder why women take so long to get ready for a ride when the wind will mess them up anyway. Actually, as it turns out, Ilsa really didn't take much time at all: she just washed her face and put on a doublet.

Oh, this is pretty good:

Hart exited with her. "You need take no guard. My lir and I are enough, I think, to ward you against most dangers."

She slanted him a cool glance over one shoulder as she turned toward the white mare she had ridden at their first meeting. "Are you? I think a man need only offer you a wager, and you would name me as the stakes."

Yeah basically. If Hart were fucking smart, he'd tell the truth now and not waste her fucking time. I feel like Ilsa might even appreciate that a little bit. But no. He decides to ride with her and angst about how difficult it is to tell her.

He lets himself get distracted by the joy of riding with a beautiful woman. Ilsa spots Rael, and they end up chatting about him a bit. Hart basically says that Rael is giving them privacy. Ilsa is pretty shocked that he can comprehend such things. And Hart tries to explain lir.

Ilsa pointedly asks if Rael enjoys games as much as Hart does, and he has the nerve to feel hurt at the near-contempt he hears. Just fucking tell her. Instead he says that Rael wants him to turn his attention to more important matters, like learning to rule. Ilsa notes that Rael is wiser than Hart. Yep.

He asks what she knows about Cheysuli. Fucking tell her about the wager, you knob! But to be fair, this is probably something she should know about if she does entertain the idea of marrying his idiot ass. She actually seems pretty curious about the shapechange and asks if it hurts.

This does give Hart a chance to be mostly eloquent as he talks about the shapechange:

"There is no pain," he said thoughtfully. "Not as you know pain. But there is an oddness, an alienness, when I put off my human shape for another." He shrugged a little. "Knowing what I will become, it does not frighten me. I will come through it; I always do, and back again. But the first time, not knowing, is frightening and exhilarating all at once." He looked at-her intent face, wishing he could share lir-shape so he need not struggle for words that were inadequate no matter how glib his explanation. "From birth we are told that to be whole we require a lir. And although we have no reason to anticipate being left without one, the hidden fear is always there ... the fear that somehow the gods have forgotten to prepare the animal that is to become your lir." He shrugged. "The first time you assume lir-shape, you are so eager the fear recedes and you think only of the need, not the fear of what you do."

Ilsa looked into the sky to watch Rael's soaring flight.

"And when you are a hawk, what do you feel then?"

The answer was instant. "Freedom." As she looked at him, he smiled. "Freedom. No more am I earthbound; no more do I require legs, feet, horse, or other means of transportation. I have only myself, requiring only myself . . . and I become the freest thing alive."

They talk a bit more about lir shape and the dangers of losing oneself in it. And, oh...Ilsa's GOOD. Look at this smooth ass segue:

And risk is something you understand very well." Ilsa smoothed hair back. "I have known Dar nearly since birth; his family has served mine for centuries. I have seen how it is with him, this need to risk his wealth in wagers. The coin means little to him, other than representing victory over the odds." Briefly, her mouth twisted ironically. "I see much the same in you, although you are worse. Dar enjoys a good wager, but I think you need it."

"For as long as I can remember." He did not smile, not try to avoid the topic. "I do not lose myself in lir-shape, perhaps, understanding the need for self-control . . . but a wager is different. I do lose myself."

"And so the balance is broken, and you tip over the edge." Ilsa looked at him squarely. "Last night you told me you take pride in nothing. I think you lied, albeit unknowing. If nothing else, you take pride in being Cheysuli; in the ability to become a hawk and know the freedom of the skies."

He did not look away. "Aye."

"Then I offer you a challenge, my lord. I offer you risk." Ilsa smiled a little. "Put it aside, Hart. Set aside this need of the game, and look instead to becoming a prince in fact. Solinde is in the palm of your hand. Grasp it, my lord, or surely you will lose it."

God, Ilsa's so great. She deserves so much better than the options in front of her.

And to be fair to Hart, he realizes that. And now, he comes clean. He explains the wager, and the terms. He points out that Ilsa has to wed. If she weds Dar, the country will revolt. Any Solindish spouse would be the same.

Ilsa asks why she'd wed him, when he offers her nothing but irreverence and irresponsibility?

Hart explains the terms of the wager. Oh...this is actually interesting:

"The wager is this," he said quietly. "If you wed me, Dar gives over the Third Seal—and his life. If you wed Dar, I am sent home to Homana . . . and Solinde remains Solindish."

"Under a Homanan regent!" Color spilled into her face, then out again. "Dar put up his life?"

THANK you, Ilsa.

Ilsa seriously is the only person in this section with a working brain, because yeah, of COURSE there'll be a Homanan regent. Niall is not going to give up the damn country, even if Hart's not there. And it's interesting that she does seem to see a difference between Hart as king and a Homanan regent.

Ilsa is aghast that he accepted the wager. Hart claims Dar gave him no choice. Which is fucking idiotic. Hart absolutely did NOT have to take the bet. Ilsa asks what choice Hart gave Dar, which is even stupider. It takes two to wager, Ilsa.

I do love her response here though:

"So you leave the choice to me," she said bitterly. "Yet again you turn your back on responsibility and reduce the future of Solinde to a wager and a woman's choice of husband." She said something more, equally bitterly, but the words were Solindish, and he did not know them. He knew only that he had angered her far more than even he had anticipated.

Ilsa then asks if Dar put him up to it. Hart reluctantly admits it, thinking it will make him look vindictive. No, it does make you look like a fucking moron though.

Ilsa continues to be so so great:

Ilsa shook her head, pushing hair out of her face in irritation. "You are a fool, my lord prince of wagerers. Dar knows me too well, and he has learned you also. As he expected, all my pride screams at me to wed Dar if for no other reason than to force your loss, and your subsequent loss of Solinde. And I would ... if my better judgment would allow it." She looked at him squarely, "If only to pay him back, I should refuse him. But it would cost him his life, and that I cannot bear."

This is WHY Dar made the wager. It's pretty clear from the challenge that she gave Hart two pages ago, that she wanted Hart to rule. If there were no wager, she'd probably have picked him. But Dar's seeming martyrdom was just the right thing to manipulate both of them.

Hart points out that she can marry someone else. And Ilsa's response is a little incoherent:

"What other man?" Ilsa asked bitterly. "There is no other man in Solinde who can do what Dar can to rally the Solindish to war again. We are too weary of such things. Niall and those before him have defeated us soundly too many times. Without the right leader, what good would it do us now?" She shrugged. "But Dar could do what is necessary, and would. If I wanted this war, I would be a fool to wed a Solindishman other than Dar."

He saw the turmoil reflected in her eyes, in her features.

"But if I wed you to save my land from war, it costs me Dar. And that price I will not pay."

I mean...if Ilsa doesn't want war, then just marry a Solindishman who isn't strong enough to pursue war?

Unless she's saying that the war would happen anyway, and the husband won't be strong enough to fight. Still, I feel like this could have been clearer.

Hart suggests she not marry anyone. That's no option either. If she doesn't pick, she'll be forced into it.

Poor Ilsa. Upset, she heads back to the city. Hart, in the ONLY intelligent decision we've ever seen him make, realizes that trying to stop her would destroy any hope of winning her, and lets her go.

The chapter ends here.