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i_read_whatSo last time, Keely had good scenes with both Hart and Ian. Not much really happened, but I enjoyed the character beats nonetheless. Particularly since Hart has gotten to show some of the growth that he didn't really have time to at the end of Pride of Princes.
As though Roberson wants to immediately make me regret praising Hart's development, we start this chapter with Hart teaching Keely Bezat. And for all of the doubts I've expressed over Keely's intelligence, she immediately clocks that this game has a much greater element of risk than the fortune-game that Hart played in Homana.
But don't worry, Keely has time to pull a "not like other girls" moment:
The late afternoon sun slanted through the casements, cutting the chamber into a lattice of shadow and light. We sat in Deirdre's solar, hunching over a low table on which rested a flagon of wine, a cluster of cups, the Solindish game. Ilsa and Deirdre worked together on the massive tapestry of lions I had grown sick of seeing, talking quietly of things such as child-bearing, the preservation of certain foods, the need for new dyes to freshen wardrobes grown outdated. I was, as usual, uninterested, and therefore ignored them completely.
...you know, Keely. Some of this stuff is actually relevant to being a co-ruler of a country, or at least a manager of a household. I get being bored of the tapestry (though you know, it IS supposed to honor your family - y'know, the whole reason you get to live comfortably in a palace, rather than being some poor wine girl in the city somewhere), and even the discussion of child-bearing.
But preservation of food and the maintenance of clothing (here dismissed as a matter of fashion, because god forbid we acknowledge that it's actually kind of important to have functional clothing, and you can't just go to a fucking shopping mall to replenish it) are maybe useful things to know about. Even if you were just a Cheysuli warrior woman, you'd need to worry about food and clothing.
We're told that the menfolk are meeting with the Homanan Council. She's perplexed as to why Hart isn't in the meeting, but I'm not. Though we are at least pretending that Ilsa isn't in charge of everything, as "the Prince of Solinde" informs Keely that he'd already dispatched patrols to the north.
We're reminded that Valgaard technically is a part of Solinde, though a pocket of the country that's always been loyal to Strahan, and Hart still has a ways to go before he wins enough loyalty from the more patriotic Solindish nationals to be able to rely on them against him.
That's fair. Honestly, if any of the siblings of this generation should have gotten a solo book, I think it should have been Hart rather than Keely. It's nice to have a female protagonist, don't get me wrong. But it's not like anything's really happened in this book.
To compare to Pride of Princes, at this point in the story, we were hitting the last chapter of Brennan's storyarc. Meaning we had: the bar fight, the exile of the princes, Brennan's initial capture, the start of the "romance" with Rhiannon, the revelation that Lillith's child was an enemy, the confrontation with Teirnan that led to the latter breaking ranks, and were just about to get Brennan sent off to be tortured in Valgaard.
Keely, in contrast, met Rory, argued with Teirnan, antagonized her siblings, got advice from Ian, met Rory AGAIN, argued with Teirnan AGAIN, antagonized her siblings AGAIN, got advice from Ian AGAIN...we've only just gotten a hint of a real overarching plot with Taliesin now. I'll give Roberson credit: she's improved a lot in her craft. I only really realized how repetitive this all has been, now that I'm looking back at it. But still. It's stalling.
Hart was the one character in Pride of Princes who didn't really get a satisfying ending, because his story involved so many big parts: his addiction, his ability and interest, or specifically lack thereof, in ruling, the ongoing tension between the Homanan invaders and the Solindish nationals, and so on. And we only really JUST got to Hart getting a clue before he gets carted off to Valgaard for the giant trauma session. He's the one who'd really have benefited from getting a book of his own.
ANYWAY, that leaves Hart to gamble with Keely. He's apparently encouraging her to wager everything she has. Because...character growth?
His smile was slow and sweet, his eyes, guileless; gods, but he was good! "Without risk, there is no point to playing."
"Without risk, there is no loss." I smiled back at him with equal sweetness; I am, after all, his sister. "I thought Ilsa had reformed you."
The lady herself laughed. "Only to the point of keeping him home to wager on small games such as this one."
...I don't know enough about gambling addiction, but I'm not sure this is really a FIX. But okay.
Oh, this is interesting. For the first time, we're seeing an indicator that the twin bond might actually be a genuine thing:
But what I thought remained unsaid, because Hart was paying no attention to me at all. "Brennan," he said intently. "Aye, it is—"
And so it was, coming through the door, but Hart had said it before he was in sight, and Rael, in the link, was silent. Hart had simply known.
Their grins were identical, though set in different faces. Black-haired and dark-skinned, both of them, with very similar bones, but more than the eyes were different. Their thoughts worked differently; although, at this moment, what they thought was the same, and there for everyone to see.
Aww. And also interesting, because much is made of Keely's powers, and here is something outside of that. (I wish they'd do more with that, just like I wish McCaffrey would do more with the Hears All Dragons power. Generally, that never seems to matter as much as it really ought. And Keely might as well not have the power for as often as she actually uses it.)
ANYWAY. Hart immediately goads his brother into a game (accusing him of becoming fat, soft and domesticated), and, for all of his general stability and maturity, Brennan immediately falls in:
Brennan's eyes narrowed. "Then I suggest we find ourselves a friendly tavern and discuss my domesticity—and various other shortcomings—over a jug of wine."
"Usca," Hart said promptly. "And a fortune-game."
Ilsa’s head came up. Smoothly, I stepped between her husband and his brother. "I will come as well, to keep you both from trouble. I recall what it was like the last time you went drinking and gaming in Mujhara."
Clearly, so did they. Just as clearly, they preferred to go without me. But they said nothing of the sort, perhaps Hart out of deference to Ilsa; Brennan, I thought, because he knew better than to argue. If they did not take me with them, I would follow on my own.
Corin had taught me that.
I do enjoy the sibling dynamics. And I think it's a bit of a shame that Ilsa and Brennan haven't interacted much. I'd be interested to see what they'd make of each other.
It's going to be hard not to excerpt the next bit entirely, because there's a LOT here.
The tavern was called The Rampant Lion. Its walls were whitewashed, its lion-shaped sign freshly painted. Lighted lanterns hung from posts. Altogether it was an attractive place, but instead of going in we stood outside in the street, looking at it.
"Well," Hart said finally, "I imagine they have replaced the benches and tables we broke."
"Undoubtedly," Brennan agreed, "and undoubtedly they have replaced the owner and wine-girl as well." He touched his lobeless ear, then took his hand away with effort. "Let us go in."
So here we get a genuinely great use of Keely as the ignorant narrator. Because we, the reader, recognize this tavern. The Rampant Lion was the first tavern we saw in Pride of Princes: the nicer one, where they had that first, far less deadly fight. That owner was the man who'd captured and tortured him...the first time. And the wine girl. Well...
Hart and I followed as Brennan shouldered open the door. The interior was as clean as the exterior, well-lighted, with hardwood floor. Hart sat himself down at the first open table and called for usca. I joined him, but Brennan, looking around, did not at once sit. He seemed to be searching for something, and when the girl came with the jug of usca and cups he looked at her closely. She was young, blonde, blue-eyed; he relaxed almost at once, and paid her. Then pressed a gratuity into her hand.
"A silver royal?" I was astonished. "That is enough to buy us ten meals and all the usca we want, rujho— and you give it to a wine-girl?"
"My choice," he said quietly, and sat down next to me.
As coping mechanisms for PTSD go, overtipping a service worker is probably not a terrible one. Keely is completely clueless, but for once, Hart is not. And THIS bit is significant.
Hart's expression was uncharacteristically blank. "There is i'toshaa-ni," he remarked with carefully measured neutrality. "If it will give you peace again—"
Brennan cut him off with a raised finger. "I know that, Hart. But I do not notice it has done our su'fali any good."
Now, this bit is exquisite. And this is the acknowledgment that I wasn't ever sure we were going to get of exactly what Rhiannon did to Brennan, and how her approach may have been different from Lillith's, the damage isn't.
Brennan's not okay. And he's not dealing with it. He's rejected Ian's solution, flawed as it is, and has been living by the same repress, evade, distract reactions that we saw in the Valgaard sections of Pride of Princes, in which even the narrative won't describe exactly what was done to him...all we can go by are his reactions, which are mostly overlooked.
Except where the Hart in Valgaard was in his own agony, now, he's in a position to actually notice. And maybe, coming to the Rampant Lion actually was Brennan's attempt to reach out to support from the sibling that knows him best.
Except, unfortunately, they're not alone:
"Ah," I said, "Rhiannon. Aye, it ,was here, was it not, that you met her?" Like Hart, I kept my tone empty of challenge; Brennan is a fair man, and even-handed, but he is all Cheysuli beneath the Homanan manners, with prickly Cheysuli pride. "And was it not here that you two and Corin fought that pompous fool, Reynald of Caledon?" I grinned. "You near destroyed his escort, as well as the tavern itself—"
"Aye." Brennan's tone was severe. "Keely, we did not come here to speak of old times."
"No?" I made my surprise elaborate. "Then why come here at all? Another tavern would do as well."
Brennan poured a mug full of usca and pushed it across to me. "Drink," he said succinctly. "You have come to drink, so drink . . . my business is my own, and I would rather spend the time talking with Hart than with you."
I'll give Keely credit here. She's trying for her own level of sensitivity. But it's very clear that she doesn't understand. She thinks it's about challenge and pride, not pain and trauma. She wasn't there, in Valgaard, to see what truly happened to her brothers. She didn't get to see, for example, her oldest brother get tormented by psychic illusions or her twin vomit up evil god liquid, or any of that. They're still invulnerable to her, and so she doesn't connect things like Brennan's reaction to the wine girl to his abject fear that she might have been sexually assaulted by the Erinnish bandits, and what that might indicate.
So she takes exactly the wrong approach. She makes it flippant and casual, and by doing that, completely cuts her brother off at the knees.
And then, of course, the "elaborate surprise" - I'm going to guess that Keely hasn't put together that this isn't just the place where they met Rhiannon, it's also the place where he was drugged, captured, tortured, and made vulnerable to her manipulation and deceit. But there's no way he can say anything about that NOW.
You can't really blame the guy for not wanting to talk about his rape trauma in the presence of the woman who has spent the entire book so far calling him an abusive rapist himself.
I hate to say it, but when Roberson is good, she's very good.
I was going to stop with the direct excerpts, but there's so much good stuff here.
Hart's gaze on me was briefly sympathetic—he had been the subject of Brennan's irritation more often than I, and knew how it felt—then he turned to call for a fortune-game. I marked how he had adapted to using his right hand for everything, keeping the cuffed left stump away from the edge of the table. I wondered if it still hurt, as our father's empty eyesocket did when he was tired or worried. I wondered how he felt recalling how he had lost it in Solinde, to Dar, Ilsa’s Solindish suitor, who served Strahan for personal gain.
This is such a great juxtaposition.
My first impulse is to say that Keely can empathize with Hart because Hart's injury is physical. She can see it with her own eyes. She can appreciate how there are things that he can't do anymore because he only has one hand. She can imagine the phantom pain that might come of it, because she knows someone else with a similar injury.
But I'm not really sure that's the case. Because, while Brennan's injury is not physical, it is very apparent. At least in this scene. It's incredibly obvious, even through Keely's oblivious narration that it's not okay, and to reinforce that, we have Hart, HART of all people, cautiously and gently bringing up the idea of the Cheysuli cleansing ceremony as a potential comfort. (It is a horrible implication that a rape victim would need "cleansing", but that's not Hart's fault. As far as we know, i'toshaa'ni is the ONLY thing they have for any kind of mental health treatment). She even knows someone with a similar injury, and while she's been accidentally callous to Ian, she did realize her misstep.
I think it's more that she's gotten so invested in Brennan as the proxy for the villain of her story. Liam and Niall are the ones who actually caused the problem, but one's far away and the other is the fucking King. Her brother is the easiest target, and as long as she sees him as a rock solid source of stability, she can spew all of her fear, anger and bile in his direction without damage.
If Keely recognized her brother's pain, then she might actually have to think about what she's been doing to him. And I don't think she's got that self-awareness.
This bit is interesting though, since there is another component to Hart's injury, that was touched upon in Pride of Princes:
Kin-wrecked. An old custom, but still in force. Brennan had tried to have it changed, but there was as yet opposition in the clans. Already we lost traditions, the old ones said, including the shar tahls, because our assumption of the Lion was making us into Homanans. If we severed all ties with the old ways we would no longer be Cheysuli. A Cheysuli warrior needed all his limbs to be whole—otherwise how could he defend his clan?
So, for now, the custom was retained. And Hart, regardless of his title, was cut off from his clan, enjoying none of the things rightfully his by birth, by blood, by the Lir-link with Rael.
Feckless, irresponsible Hart, who seemed the least likely of us all to care about the loss of clan-rights, since it did not affect the lir-gifts, nor his taste for gambling. But who, oddly enough, seemed to feel the loss the most.
I am very glad to see that Brennan hasn't forgotten his promise and that he is actively trying to change things. The rationale for keeping the ban in place is infuriating, but I can buy that ableism can't be defeated easily or quickly. I hope it continues to come up in future books.
I'm also a little boggled by Keely's surprise that Hart feels the loss. Especially when being a Cheysuli is so entrenched in her own self-worth. Why would it not matter as much to him? Also, it DOES affect his lir gifts. He can't fly. Does Keely not realize that?
It is kind of funny though, I've mentioned before that I have an unknowing nemesis. Some ten years or so back, there was a reviewer who went through the Chronicles of Cheysuli books for Tor's website (I think they've had another set of reviews since, but I haven't read them.) And this reviewer very much disliked Brennan, and saw Daughter of the Lion as very much a story of a feminist protagonist vs. her sexist brother adversary. And well, I've kvetched about her sporadically throughout.
But I find that take very simplistic, especially as Roberson's done something very interesting here. And I'm not sure how much is intentional.
Brennan is basically set up as Keely's foil. And he has, at least a few times, expressed some sexist views. Fair enough. But, and I know I've said this before, it absolutely FASCINATES me that the "sexist adversary" in this feminist story is the only character so far, who has ever considered the vulnerability and potential of abuse faced by ordinary women in this society.
I don't even think KEELY has expressed any kind of concern for the general role of women in this society. Frustration, yes. Especially for any restriction that applies to her. She is at least capable of seeing the issue when it comes to women in a similar position, like Aileen. But look at how she treats Maeve. She's certainly never seemed concerned with any peasant women.
And here, we also see, that our sexist adversary is the one who is actively trying to make positive, progressive change in their society. Keely gripes and grumbles, but IS she trying to make anything better for any of the other women in their setting? Is she even bothering to use her beloved Old Blood Mascot status to help her brother with HIS efforts?
It's not that Keely's wrong. I think she's right. Arranged marriages where you have absolutely no say in your spouse suck. The limitations and restrictions faced by women in this society suck. The fact that women can't fight or rule in their own name sucks. The fact that she's expected to shoulder the burdens of childbirth when there really isn't any comparable risk to men sucks.
But it's still really interesting. This is NOT a simple good feminist sister vs. awful sexist brother situation. And I actually appreciate Roberson for adding those layers, even if that reviewer didn't see them. (She also said that Brennan was the brother least sympathetic to Keely's plight, which is BLATANTLY untrue, so meh.)
Anyway, we're told that the boys talked, renewing the "link of shared birth" and their special bond. Keely understands, having a twin herself, but since Corin's not here, she basically just drinks and "curses the need for responsibility".
She muses about Corin himself, how he had resented Brennan and overlooked his own strengths, and how even he finally gave into his tahlmorra, and now lives in Atvia, putting his house to rights. (I'd also like to see a follow up book about this, but it's less aggravating than Hart, because Corin's story was about dealing with his emotions not his country.)
Keely thinks about Gisella too, and we get this interesting bit of Homanan culture:
I shivered briefly. I had no memory of our mother, who had been sent in exile to Atvia before I was six months of d. But I heard the tales, the whispers, the comments. I sensed the unease in our father whenever her name was spoken, because she was truly Queen of Homana, his wife by Homanan law, cheysula by Cheysuli; if she came back to Homana, she would have to be properly received before he sent her away again. She had borne him sons. She had given him the means to hold the Lion, the means to further the prophecy, merely by bearing boys.
Deirdre was our mother in everything but name. But Deirdre, some said, was a whore, regardless of her blood.
If Gisella ever came back to Homana to petition for permanent residence, Deirdre would have to go. There were proprieties, customs, manners ... she would go, be sent, and leave our father bereft of happiness.
As I said in Pride of Princes, I don't think it'd be that easy. Niall is pretty beloved and might well be able to push back on this. But I can see why Keely feels that way.
And this goes into a moment of reflection:
If it could be that way with jehan and Deirdre after so many—twenty-two!—years . . . if it can lie that way with Hart and Ilsa— I gritted my teeth and swallowed liquor—then why not with Sean and I?
It was not impossible. If I opened my eyes, I could see it. If I could shake off my stubbornness, suppress my pride, my frustration, renounce my hostility. . . .
She thinks that it might not be impossible, which is a pretty big moment for Keely. But it only works if Sean's alive. And if Sean's alive, then what becomes of Rory? And with that thought, this actually excellent chapter ends.
As though Roberson wants to immediately make me regret praising Hart's development, we start this chapter with Hart teaching Keely Bezat. And for all of the doubts I've expressed over Keely's intelligence, she immediately clocks that this game has a much greater element of risk than the fortune-game that Hart played in Homana.
But don't worry, Keely has time to pull a "not like other girls" moment:
The late afternoon sun slanted through the casements, cutting the chamber into a lattice of shadow and light. We sat in Deirdre's solar, hunching over a low table on which rested a flagon of wine, a cluster of cups, the Solindish game. Ilsa and Deirdre worked together on the massive tapestry of lions I had grown sick of seeing, talking quietly of things such as child-bearing, the preservation of certain foods, the need for new dyes to freshen wardrobes grown outdated. I was, as usual, uninterested, and therefore ignored them completely.
...you know, Keely. Some of this stuff is actually relevant to being a co-ruler of a country, or at least a manager of a household. I get being bored of the tapestry (though you know, it IS supposed to honor your family - y'know, the whole reason you get to live comfortably in a palace, rather than being some poor wine girl in the city somewhere), and even the discussion of child-bearing.
But preservation of food and the maintenance of clothing (here dismissed as a matter of fashion, because god forbid we acknowledge that it's actually kind of important to have functional clothing, and you can't just go to a fucking shopping mall to replenish it) are maybe useful things to know about. Even if you were just a Cheysuli warrior woman, you'd need to worry about food and clothing.
We're told that the menfolk are meeting with the Homanan Council. She's perplexed as to why Hart isn't in the meeting, but I'm not. Though we are at least pretending that Ilsa isn't in charge of everything, as "the Prince of Solinde" informs Keely that he'd already dispatched patrols to the north.
We're reminded that Valgaard technically is a part of Solinde, though a pocket of the country that's always been loyal to Strahan, and Hart still has a ways to go before he wins enough loyalty from the more patriotic Solindish nationals to be able to rely on them against him.
That's fair. Honestly, if any of the siblings of this generation should have gotten a solo book, I think it should have been Hart rather than Keely. It's nice to have a female protagonist, don't get me wrong. But it's not like anything's really happened in this book.
To compare to Pride of Princes, at this point in the story, we were hitting the last chapter of Brennan's storyarc. Meaning we had: the bar fight, the exile of the princes, Brennan's initial capture, the start of the "romance" with Rhiannon, the revelation that Lillith's child was an enemy, the confrontation with Teirnan that led to the latter breaking ranks, and were just about to get Brennan sent off to be tortured in Valgaard.
Keely, in contrast, met Rory, argued with Teirnan, antagonized her siblings, got advice from Ian, met Rory AGAIN, argued with Teirnan AGAIN, antagonized her siblings AGAIN, got advice from Ian AGAIN...we've only just gotten a hint of a real overarching plot with Taliesin now. I'll give Roberson credit: she's improved a lot in her craft. I only really realized how repetitive this all has been, now that I'm looking back at it. But still. It's stalling.
Hart was the one character in Pride of Princes who didn't really get a satisfying ending, because his story involved so many big parts: his addiction, his ability and interest, or specifically lack thereof, in ruling, the ongoing tension between the Homanan invaders and the Solindish nationals, and so on. And we only really JUST got to Hart getting a clue before he gets carted off to Valgaard for the giant trauma session. He's the one who'd really have benefited from getting a book of his own.
ANYWAY, that leaves Hart to gamble with Keely. He's apparently encouraging her to wager everything she has. Because...character growth?
His smile was slow and sweet, his eyes, guileless; gods, but he was good! "Without risk, there is no point to playing."
"Without risk, there is no loss." I smiled back at him with equal sweetness; I am, after all, his sister. "I thought Ilsa had reformed you."
The lady herself laughed. "Only to the point of keeping him home to wager on small games such as this one."
...I don't know enough about gambling addiction, but I'm not sure this is really a FIX. But okay.
Oh, this is interesting. For the first time, we're seeing an indicator that the twin bond might actually be a genuine thing:
But what I thought remained unsaid, because Hart was paying no attention to me at all. "Brennan," he said intently. "Aye, it is—"
And so it was, coming through the door, but Hart had said it before he was in sight, and Rael, in the link, was silent. Hart had simply known.
Their grins were identical, though set in different faces. Black-haired and dark-skinned, both of them, with very similar bones, but more than the eyes were different. Their thoughts worked differently; although, at this moment, what they thought was the same, and there for everyone to see.
Aww. And also interesting, because much is made of Keely's powers, and here is something outside of that. (I wish they'd do more with that, just like I wish McCaffrey would do more with the Hears All Dragons power. Generally, that never seems to matter as much as it really ought. And Keely might as well not have the power for as often as she actually uses it.)
ANYWAY. Hart immediately goads his brother into a game (accusing him of becoming fat, soft and domesticated), and, for all of his general stability and maturity, Brennan immediately falls in:
Brennan's eyes narrowed. "Then I suggest we find ourselves a friendly tavern and discuss my domesticity—and various other shortcomings—over a jug of wine."
"Usca," Hart said promptly. "And a fortune-game."
Ilsa’s head came up. Smoothly, I stepped between her husband and his brother. "I will come as well, to keep you both from trouble. I recall what it was like the last time you went drinking and gaming in Mujhara."
Clearly, so did they. Just as clearly, they preferred to go without me. But they said nothing of the sort, perhaps Hart out of deference to Ilsa; Brennan, I thought, because he knew better than to argue. If they did not take me with them, I would follow on my own.
Corin had taught me that.
I do enjoy the sibling dynamics. And I think it's a bit of a shame that Ilsa and Brennan haven't interacted much. I'd be interested to see what they'd make of each other.
It's going to be hard not to excerpt the next bit entirely, because there's a LOT here.
The tavern was called The Rampant Lion. Its walls were whitewashed, its lion-shaped sign freshly painted. Lighted lanterns hung from posts. Altogether it was an attractive place, but instead of going in we stood outside in the street, looking at it.
"Well," Hart said finally, "I imagine they have replaced the benches and tables we broke."
"Undoubtedly," Brennan agreed, "and undoubtedly they have replaced the owner and wine-girl as well." He touched his lobeless ear, then took his hand away with effort. "Let us go in."
So here we get a genuinely great use of Keely as the ignorant narrator. Because we, the reader, recognize this tavern. The Rampant Lion was the first tavern we saw in Pride of Princes: the nicer one, where they had that first, far less deadly fight. That owner was the man who'd captured and tortured him...the first time. And the wine girl. Well...
Hart and I followed as Brennan shouldered open the door. The interior was as clean as the exterior, well-lighted, with hardwood floor. Hart sat himself down at the first open table and called for usca. I joined him, but Brennan, looking around, did not at once sit. He seemed to be searching for something, and when the girl came with the jug of usca and cups he looked at her closely. She was young, blonde, blue-eyed; he relaxed almost at once, and paid her. Then pressed a gratuity into her hand.
"A silver royal?" I was astonished. "That is enough to buy us ten meals and all the usca we want, rujho— and you give it to a wine-girl?"
"My choice," he said quietly, and sat down next to me.
As coping mechanisms for PTSD go, overtipping a service worker is probably not a terrible one. Keely is completely clueless, but for once, Hart is not. And THIS bit is significant.
Hart's expression was uncharacteristically blank. "There is i'toshaa-ni," he remarked with carefully measured neutrality. "If it will give you peace again—"
Brennan cut him off with a raised finger. "I know that, Hart. But I do not notice it has done our su'fali any good."
Now, this bit is exquisite. And this is the acknowledgment that I wasn't ever sure we were going to get of exactly what Rhiannon did to Brennan, and how her approach may have been different from Lillith's, the damage isn't.
Brennan's not okay. And he's not dealing with it. He's rejected Ian's solution, flawed as it is, and has been living by the same repress, evade, distract reactions that we saw in the Valgaard sections of Pride of Princes, in which even the narrative won't describe exactly what was done to him...all we can go by are his reactions, which are mostly overlooked.
Except where the Hart in Valgaard was in his own agony, now, he's in a position to actually notice. And maybe, coming to the Rampant Lion actually was Brennan's attempt to reach out to support from the sibling that knows him best.
Except, unfortunately, they're not alone:
"Ah," I said, "Rhiannon. Aye, it ,was here, was it not, that you met her?" Like Hart, I kept my tone empty of challenge; Brennan is a fair man, and even-handed, but he is all Cheysuli beneath the Homanan manners, with prickly Cheysuli pride. "And was it not here that you two and Corin fought that pompous fool, Reynald of Caledon?" I grinned. "You near destroyed his escort, as well as the tavern itself—"
"Aye." Brennan's tone was severe. "Keely, we did not come here to speak of old times."
"No?" I made my surprise elaborate. "Then why come here at all? Another tavern would do as well."
Brennan poured a mug full of usca and pushed it across to me. "Drink," he said succinctly. "You have come to drink, so drink . . . my business is my own, and I would rather spend the time talking with Hart than with you."
I'll give Keely credit here. She's trying for her own level of sensitivity. But it's very clear that she doesn't understand. She thinks it's about challenge and pride, not pain and trauma. She wasn't there, in Valgaard, to see what truly happened to her brothers. She didn't get to see, for example, her oldest brother get tormented by psychic illusions or her twin vomit up evil god liquid, or any of that. They're still invulnerable to her, and so she doesn't connect things like Brennan's reaction to the wine girl to his abject fear that she might have been sexually assaulted by the Erinnish bandits, and what that might indicate.
So she takes exactly the wrong approach. She makes it flippant and casual, and by doing that, completely cuts her brother off at the knees.
And then, of course, the "elaborate surprise" - I'm going to guess that Keely hasn't put together that this isn't just the place where they met Rhiannon, it's also the place where he was drugged, captured, tortured, and made vulnerable to her manipulation and deceit. But there's no way he can say anything about that NOW.
You can't really blame the guy for not wanting to talk about his rape trauma in the presence of the woman who has spent the entire book so far calling him an abusive rapist himself.
I hate to say it, but when Roberson is good, she's very good.
I was going to stop with the direct excerpts, but there's so much good stuff here.
Hart's gaze on me was briefly sympathetic—he had been the subject of Brennan's irritation more often than I, and knew how it felt—then he turned to call for a fortune-game. I marked how he had adapted to using his right hand for everything, keeping the cuffed left stump away from the edge of the table. I wondered if it still hurt, as our father's empty eyesocket did when he was tired or worried. I wondered how he felt recalling how he had lost it in Solinde, to Dar, Ilsa’s Solindish suitor, who served Strahan for personal gain.
This is such a great juxtaposition.
My first impulse is to say that Keely can empathize with Hart because Hart's injury is physical. She can see it with her own eyes. She can appreciate how there are things that he can't do anymore because he only has one hand. She can imagine the phantom pain that might come of it, because she knows someone else with a similar injury.
But I'm not really sure that's the case. Because, while Brennan's injury is not physical, it is very apparent. At least in this scene. It's incredibly obvious, even through Keely's oblivious narration that it's not okay, and to reinforce that, we have Hart, HART of all people, cautiously and gently bringing up the idea of the Cheysuli cleansing ceremony as a potential comfort. (It is a horrible implication that a rape victim would need "cleansing", but that's not Hart's fault. As far as we know, i'toshaa'ni is the ONLY thing they have for any kind of mental health treatment). She even knows someone with a similar injury, and while she's been accidentally callous to Ian, she did realize her misstep.
I think it's more that she's gotten so invested in Brennan as the proxy for the villain of her story. Liam and Niall are the ones who actually caused the problem, but one's far away and the other is the fucking King. Her brother is the easiest target, and as long as she sees him as a rock solid source of stability, she can spew all of her fear, anger and bile in his direction without damage.
If Keely recognized her brother's pain, then she might actually have to think about what she's been doing to him. And I don't think she's got that self-awareness.
This bit is interesting though, since there is another component to Hart's injury, that was touched upon in Pride of Princes:
Kin-wrecked. An old custom, but still in force. Brennan had tried to have it changed, but there was as yet opposition in the clans. Already we lost traditions, the old ones said, including the shar tahls, because our assumption of the Lion was making us into Homanans. If we severed all ties with the old ways we would no longer be Cheysuli. A Cheysuli warrior needed all his limbs to be whole—otherwise how could he defend his clan?
So, for now, the custom was retained. And Hart, regardless of his title, was cut off from his clan, enjoying none of the things rightfully his by birth, by blood, by the Lir-link with Rael.
Feckless, irresponsible Hart, who seemed the least likely of us all to care about the loss of clan-rights, since it did not affect the lir-gifts, nor his taste for gambling. But who, oddly enough, seemed to feel the loss the most.
I am very glad to see that Brennan hasn't forgotten his promise and that he is actively trying to change things. The rationale for keeping the ban in place is infuriating, but I can buy that ableism can't be defeated easily or quickly. I hope it continues to come up in future books.
I'm also a little boggled by Keely's surprise that Hart feels the loss. Especially when being a Cheysuli is so entrenched in her own self-worth. Why would it not matter as much to him? Also, it DOES affect his lir gifts. He can't fly. Does Keely not realize that?
It is kind of funny though, I've mentioned before that I have an unknowing nemesis. Some ten years or so back, there was a reviewer who went through the Chronicles of Cheysuli books for Tor's website (I think they've had another set of reviews since, but I haven't read them.) And this reviewer very much disliked Brennan, and saw Daughter of the Lion as very much a story of a feminist protagonist vs. her sexist brother adversary. And well, I've kvetched about her sporadically throughout.
But I find that take very simplistic, especially as Roberson's done something very interesting here. And I'm not sure how much is intentional.
Brennan is basically set up as Keely's foil. And he has, at least a few times, expressed some sexist views. Fair enough. But, and I know I've said this before, it absolutely FASCINATES me that the "sexist adversary" in this feminist story is the only character so far, who has ever considered the vulnerability and potential of abuse faced by ordinary women in this society.
I don't even think KEELY has expressed any kind of concern for the general role of women in this society. Frustration, yes. Especially for any restriction that applies to her. She is at least capable of seeing the issue when it comes to women in a similar position, like Aileen. But look at how she treats Maeve. She's certainly never seemed concerned with any peasant women.
And here, we also see, that our sexist adversary is the one who is actively trying to make positive, progressive change in their society. Keely gripes and grumbles, but IS she trying to make anything better for any of the other women in their setting? Is she even bothering to use her beloved Old Blood Mascot status to help her brother with HIS efforts?
It's not that Keely's wrong. I think she's right. Arranged marriages where you have absolutely no say in your spouse suck. The limitations and restrictions faced by women in this society suck. The fact that women can't fight or rule in their own name sucks. The fact that she's expected to shoulder the burdens of childbirth when there really isn't any comparable risk to men sucks.
But it's still really interesting. This is NOT a simple good feminist sister vs. awful sexist brother situation. And I actually appreciate Roberson for adding those layers, even if that reviewer didn't see them. (She also said that Brennan was the brother least sympathetic to Keely's plight, which is BLATANTLY untrue, so meh.)
Anyway, we're told that the boys talked, renewing the "link of shared birth" and their special bond. Keely understands, having a twin herself, but since Corin's not here, she basically just drinks and "curses the need for responsibility".
She muses about Corin himself, how he had resented Brennan and overlooked his own strengths, and how even he finally gave into his tahlmorra, and now lives in Atvia, putting his house to rights. (I'd also like to see a follow up book about this, but it's less aggravating than Hart, because Corin's story was about dealing with his emotions not his country.)
Keely thinks about Gisella too, and we get this interesting bit of Homanan culture:
I shivered briefly. I had no memory of our mother, who had been sent in exile to Atvia before I was six months of d. But I heard the tales, the whispers, the comments. I sensed the unease in our father whenever her name was spoken, because she was truly Queen of Homana, his wife by Homanan law, cheysula by Cheysuli; if she came back to Homana, she would have to be properly received before he sent her away again. She had borne him sons. She had given him the means to hold the Lion, the means to further the prophecy, merely by bearing boys.
Deirdre was our mother in everything but name. But Deirdre, some said, was a whore, regardless of her blood.
If Gisella ever came back to Homana to petition for permanent residence, Deirdre would have to go. There were proprieties, customs, manners ... she would go, be sent, and leave our father bereft of happiness.
As I said in Pride of Princes, I don't think it'd be that easy. Niall is pretty beloved and might well be able to push back on this. But I can see why Keely feels that way.
And this goes into a moment of reflection:
If it could be that way with jehan and Deirdre after so many—twenty-two!—years . . . if it can lie that way with Hart and Ilsa— I gritted my teeth and swallowed liquor—then why not with Sean and I?
It was not impossible. If I opened my eyes, I could see it. If I could shake off my stubbornness, suppress my pride, my frustration, renounce my hostility. . . .
She thinks that it might not be impossible, which is a pretty big moment for Keely. But it only works if Sean's alive. And if Sean's alive, then what becomes of Rory? And with that thought, this actually excellent chapter ends.