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i_read_whatSo here's my confession. I really did not want to write this review. I'm not sure if I just forgot about this chapter or put it out of my mind. But I got here and I just...ugh.
I don't even really know how to warn for this. I mean, content warning: rape (or at least VERY dubious consent) is appropriate but...
It's more than that, somehow. Content warning: you are about to lose the last shred of respect you may have had for a particular character? Possibly more than that?
Content warning: character assassination? Because even at his worst, and there's been a lot, I can't imagine this character SAYING what he does in this chapter?
I don't even fucking know. I suppose the one thing I'm grateful for is that if you're reading these reviews, you've already seen some pretty fucked up shit. So maybe that'll help.
But enough stalling. Let's go.
So if you recall, last chapter actually left us with a little bit of tension. Because Donal is an idiot, rather than TELL anyone that his wife apparently suffered some kind of possession-induced psychotic break, he went and skipped town for five days. Meaning she could tell anyone anything about what happened and he gave up the opportunity to gainsay her.
And I mean, Carillon's a crap dad, but he's still her father, right? So surely she could tell him something that would make trouble for Donal, right?
Well, let's see:
Carillon stared fixedly into the half-gone goblet of pale sweet wine, as if he dreamed. Donal thought he looked lost somehow, elsewhere entirely; there was a slackness about his spirit, a lessening of the intensity Donal had always known in him. But after a moment he stirred. “I am told you left Aislinn to seek entertainments with Lachlan’s brother; that you embroiled yourself in a brawl that quickly became more than a misunderstanding. Evan says you are fortunate to be alive.”
...I mean, so far, that's actually pretty much the truth. He DID leave Aislinn to go bar-hopping with Evan, almost got killed, and didn't check in for five days.
Oh, by the way, Donal? Might you mention that whole thing about the assassin being Homanan? No?
So Donal has to explain himself:
“Aye.” Donal controlled his voice with effort. “I am—fortunate. But I left Aislinn because she would not have me lie with her. There were—impediments.”
“Impediments?” Carillon straightened in his chair. One hand gripped the goblet, the other clenched on the knobbed end of the wooden chair arm. “If you speak of a young bride’s natural modesty, you should know that a caring husband can overcome impediments such as that.” He did not smile. “You and Sorcha were quite young when first you lay together. And yet you managed it. Why could you not manage this?”
...Carillon. Just shut the fuck up. Dudes who force their wives into marriage don't get to talk now.
So Donal explains: What he heard were Electra's thoughts and words in Aislinn's mouth and he refused to sleep with Electra by proxy. Which, fair enough, but dude could have TOLD SOMEONE instead of abandoning her.
But Donal is pretty reasonable when he says that Electra may be gone, abetting Tynstar in his plans, but she's also here in her daughter's mind, and while she's in there, there'll be no heirs to the throne.
Carillon gets dramatic here:
For just a moment, the twisted hands on the goblet shook. Wine spilled, splashing against the soft leather of Carillon’s boots. “And so they shall win this realm because there are no children of my daughter and her husband,” he said. “War becomes—incidental. Unnecessary, somehow. Because they can destroy us another way.” Carillon drank. He tossed back the wine as if it were water, then poured a second goblet. But this time he only stared into it, his face lined with bitterness and regret.
I mean...you could just legitimize the son Donal already has? Donal is heir to the throne in his own right, not just because of Aislinn. He's the only male descendent of the royal line in his generation. Hell, you could marry MEGHAN off to a suitable person and make HER son Donal's heir.
And also, Aislinn is sixteen. Donal is twenty-four. They've got some time to figure this shit out?
Carillon asks if Electra can be shut away from Aislinn's mind. Donal shrugs, saying that Electra's a parasite and Aislinn is a fragile, erratic host.
...is she? She seemed pretty steady actually when she's in her right mind. Also, wouldn't it be wiser to talk to Finn about this? Finn is a far more experienced telepath?
But then...then...
Carillon sighed and shut his eyes. For a long moment he kept himself in silence. Then, “Name me a monster, if you will, but I must bid you to use force. Use the power I know you have.”
Your eyes do not deceive you.
Remember for a moment that Carillon was the one man in Shapechangers that actually had some grasp of a woman's consent.
And I mean, okay, that went by the wayside in Song something fierce, but this... "Rape my daughter."
Oh, but Carillon clarifies when Donal is rightfully appalled.
Donal stared at him in shock. “You would have me force your daughter?”
“Not rape.” Carillon shook his head. “No, never that. Use the third gift. Compel her to lie with you. I know you will not harm her.”
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THAT IS RAPE. THAT IS THE DEFINITION OF RAPE YOU MONSTROUS FUCKWAD. YOU WANT HIM TO RAPE YOUR DAUGHTER.
Remember how Carillon is a "doting father"? WHAT THE FUCK?! WHAT THE FUCK?!
And again, to give Donal credit, he actually does acknowledge this.
“It is force,” Donal said. “Kin to rape, or worse— you ask me to take her will from her and replace it with my own.”
Carillon set the goblet down on the table and moved slowly to one of the sun-drenched casements. He stared out, but Donal thought he saw nothing. “It is not force if it be replaced with willingness.”
You can't hear me but I am screeching like a pterodactyl. Die. Die now, Carillon. Just die. We lost Alix and Duncan again. It's your turn. I want you fucking dead.
Okay, admittedly, Donal starts to lose me a bit here:
Donal shook his head. “I have no taste for this.”
“I do not ask you to have taste,” Carillon said raggedly. “I ask only that you perform a service any man should be ready and willing to perform.”
“Ready and willing!” Donal threw at him. “This is your daughter, Carillon…not some silly chambermaid!”
...would it be okay to rape a chambermaid?
This is like when Storr told Finn he couldn't rape Alix because she was Cheysuli. I'm guessing we weren't supposed to see that as condoning rape of other Homanan women. And we're probably not supposed to see Donal as a rapist of chambermaids here. But Roberson is sometimes a terrible writer.
Carillon decides to be dramatic:
“Do you think I do not know?” Carillon shouted back. His voice shook a little, and Donal saw the anguish in the depths of the fading blue eyes. “Ah gods, would that I had never married the woman, so this would not be necessary. Would that I had wed someone else—” He broke off. Tears shone in his eyes. “They warned me. Finn, mostly. And Duncan. Even Alix and my sister. Do not wed Electra, they said, she is Tynstar’s meijha and will only seek to slay you. Oh, aye, they had the right of it…and now I pay the price.”
...I mean, it'd be nice if you felt guilty about raping her. Also, I don't remember Duncan or Alix weighing in on this at all. Granted, I do believe Alix would say "Don't rape that woman."
Donal, having learned kingscraft from Carillon, says that he understands. Carillon married her because he had to.
Did he? Because it seems like Solinde was pretty fucking pacified. It's been quiet for twenty years, even when its princess was imprisoned. They didn't send the assassins after all.
“Had to?” Carillon’s twisted smile was bittersweet. “Oh, aye—I had to. For the alliance…but something else as well.” He stared into the goblet. “Aye…there was sorcery and witchcraft, but much more to the woman than that. She was—unlike any other I had ever known. Even now. And—I think I even loved her…for a little while.” Slowly, he lifted the recaptured goblet and drank down what remained of the pale, sweet wine. “Do what you must,” he said at last. “but be gentle with her, Donal.”
Looking at him, Donal felt a chill of apprehension run down the length of his spine. Gods…grant me health, grant me the kindness of never putting such choices before me.
I can't deal with this. I really can't.
--
So he waits until it's very late and goes to see Aislinn. He almost expects the door to be locked, but figures that she may not have expected him to come back.
Except it looks like she did:
Quickly Donal shed boots and leathers. Naked, he stripped aside the draperies, prepared to slip into the bed—
—and found Aislinn waiting for him, kneeling amid the folds of the coverlet.
In the shadows of the curtained bed, her eyes were blackened hollows. Dim candlelight threaded its way through the draperies and burnished bronze her red-gold hair. She wore a thin silken nightshift; nothing else, except her pride.
Aislinn is awesome and deserves better than this story.
Poor Aislinn has so much dignity:
“I knew. No one told me, but—I knew.” She drew in an uneven breath. “All my life I have been brought up to know my task in this world is to bear children for my lord. All my life I have known my firstborn son would become Mujhar in his father’s place, as you will when mine is dead. Well…there will be no son if I do not lie with you.”
She was frightened even as she smiled a wry little smile, stating the obvious; that much he could tell. But frightened of herself, not of him. “It is not you, Aislinn,” he told her. “It is what that witch has done to you.”
And they kind of, almost talk about what's coming:
Gently, he asked, “You know what I must do?”
Aislinn briefly shut her eyes. “Gods, Donal—I would trade almost anything to make this bedding pleasurable for us both! Do you think I wish to spew such vileness from my mouth?” Her fingers were locked into the neckline of her nightshift, twisting at the fabric. “For as long as I can remember, you were the man I wanted. Even as children, I knew I could go to you for anything. And now—now, when I can have you—I drive you instead to her.”
Okay, here's the thing. I get that this is a complicated issue. But I don't really take this as Aislinn expressing consent. She's desperate, terrified and full of self-anger. But does she really UNDERSTAND what Donal's going to be doing to her?
He nearly put out his hands to reach for her, to touch her hair, to stroke her shoulders, but he stopped himself. “Aislinn,” he said gently, “if there were another way I would seek it. I have no taste for this.”
She nodded. And then her eyes beseeched him. “Do you think—it is possible whatever my mother did to me has faded? Perhaps—perhaps it was meant only for the wedding night.”
“Perhaps.” He knew better—she grasped at straws—but said nothing of it. “Aislinn—come and sit beside me.” He himself sat down on the edge of the bed, knowing the posture was unthreatening. And after a moment, she did as he had bidden.
She laughed an odd little laugh. “I feel like a fool. Like an untried girl, nervous before her lord.”
Again, this isn't consent. This is hesitation. Anxiety. It's not a no, but it's not a clear, unequivocal yes either.
Why does this have to happen tonight? Donal was happy to leave it for five days, so why not take five more days to gradually work with Aislinn to overcome Electra's influence. Take her to Finn, have him work with her. Go to her nightly, get romantic, back off when she freaks out and then try again another day.
I bet it would work. And you can be sure that Aislinn knows what she's agreeing to.
Aislinn is clearly seeking some kind of intimate reassurance here, when she asks him about his lir gold and if he takes it off.
And we can see how she's trying here. She's trying so hard:
Her fingers explored the armband. “I see Taj and Lorn in the patterns,” Aislinn said. “The craftsmanship is superb—I have seen many fine gifts offered to my father, but none, I think, so fine as Cheysuli lir-gold. The knife he wears—”
“Finn’s, once. They exchanged knives when they swore the oath of liege man and Mujhar.”
“And broke it.” Aislinn shook her head a little. “What I know of Finn and what I am told are two different things. All those stories…and yet, he is different from what is said. It seems odd, to know a man, and yet realize others know him differently from the years before I was born.”
And see, this is exquisite, because we can see what Aislinn is doing here, even if Donal doesn't seem to.
Aislinn is recontextualizing her fear. She's making herself look at the gold, the very visible symbol of their cultural differences, and appreciate its beauty. She's talking about Finn, a man who scares her. Electra, we know, has told her vile things. And she's focusing on what she knows instead: the man she's met.
She is trying so hard.
Don't do it, Donal. You don't have to. WORK with her instead.
Aislinn is angry at Electra and wants Tynstar dead. And she wants something else:
She did not let him finish, turning instead to face him squarely. Hesitantly, she reached out both hands to touch his shoulders, closing fingers on the muscles. “I want it. I want you—I have always wanted you.”
But things start going wrong:
“Gods…” She breathed it against his mouth. “No one said I would feel like this—”
“Who could?” he asked. “Electra? You see what she has done.”
“My mother is a fool—” Aislinn was in his arms, twisting shoulders free of her garment to press her bare flesh against his. “My mother—”
He felt her body abruptly go rigid beneath his hands. “Aislinn—?” But even as he said her name, he knew what was happening.
“No!” she cried. “No, no—” The shudder wracked her body. Donal saw her head arch back, back, until her throat was bared to him and her hair spilled down against the tangled sheets. The sound she made was one of terror mixed with madness.
Here's the thing though. She IS fighting it!
A physical link was not necessary, but he sought it anyway. Aislinn, utterly limp in his arms, he lay on her back against the bed. He knelt over her, sinking hands through her hair to cup each delicate temple. He felt the pulse-beat beneath the flesh, against the palm of his hands.
“Not this time,” he said grimly. “Not this time, Solindish witch—”
But what Electra had done was not easily broken. Donal met resistance as he sought a way through the barriers to Aislinn’s subconscious. Something battered back at him, trying to throw him away. Instantly he threw up his own shields and advanced, gritting his teeth against the intensity of Electra’s spell.
“Aislinn…fight her…fight Electra—not me!”
But Aislinn was too lost within the ensorcelment. She fought him mentally and physically, sweating and crying in her efforts.
But Donal has an option.
And then he realized there was a way to win. It was not fair. He risked Aislinn even as Electra risked her, but if he did not try, she was lost without a fight of any sort. Donal thought she was worth more than that. And so he sought the essence of the shapechange.
He's not shapechanging, instead:
Donal summoned up the strength. And without warning the helpless girl, he tore through her mental barriers and forced his will upon hers.
He had told Carillon it was tantamount to rape. Donal knew only that as he forced his will upon the girl, he forced more than mental persuasion.
And yet, even as he fought to win Aislinn back from her mother and the Ihlini, Donal became dimly aware of a part of himself that understood the need for compulsion. A part of him knew physical release as well as mental was required, since he sought consummation as a result of forcing her will, and not just persuasion. With a man, there was no question it was merely a mental rape. The compulsion was never sexual. But with a woman, with Aislinn, whom he desired anyway, the compulsion was linked with intensifying need.
...instead he rapes her.
("merely a mental rape", the fuck?)
There's a TOR review of this book where the reviewer seems to believe that Aislinn consented to this. I very much disagree.
Aislinn never fully consented to the idea of sex under Donal's mind control. We saw her express tentative willingness, but also clear desperation and anxiety. Her suggestion that Electra's machinations would have only been for the wedding night betrayed that she was not on board with this idea at all.
And just because she willingly initiated sex while in her right mind does NOT mean that she would be willing to have sex with him while he's telepathically invading her mind as she fights her mother's compulsion.
She was fighting him. And even if her refusal comes of her not being in her right mind, that doesn't mean that she consents.
Distantly, he heard Aislinn crying out. So near the edge, too near the edge; he silenced her with the only gag he had left: his mouth.
Aislinn, I swear…I never wanted it this way…. And until the night of their wedding, Donal had not believed he wanted it at all.
Now he knew he had wanted it longer than he cared to acknowledge. He recalled clearly the young woman who had met him on the Crystal Isle: haughty, defiant princess; later, vulnerable, frightened girl. An assassin as well, but it was yet another facet of her being. She was neither the complaisant, spiritless woman so many Homanans were, nor the cold, powerful sorceress Electra had made of herself. Aislinn was merely—Aislinn. And in their mutual battle against her mother, each sought release whatever way they could find it.
...I guess I'm glad that you finally fucking appreciate your wife?
And just to cap things off:
“I will win, Electra—” And with the strength of the lir-bond, Donal smashed all of Aislinn’s barriers and left nothing in his wake, emptying her resistance like a seedbag spilling grain.
And as she lay empty before him physically and emotionally, he replaced the abhorrence Electra had put there with a terrible need for him.
Not rape… not rape, if she wants me as I want her—
But he realized, as she roused to his hands and his mouth, the compromise was a curse as well as a blessing. Because if the time came Aislinn ever turned to him out of genuine affection, he would never know it.
Look how fucking consensual this is.
God, I hate this book.
--
So we get the morning after. Donal at least feels like a monster:
Remorse? That, and worse. Yet he welcomed the guilt, the anger, the horror; the sickness that turned his belly. It meant he was a man after all, not a beast; not a thing who took and was pleased by the taking, not caring how it was taken or who was hurt. When she awakened Aislinn would recall only a part of what had happened, because the compulsion worked that way, but he would know it all. He would remember everything.
See what I have become?
He stared down into the void. It was not death he sought; not suicide. Not a form of expiation, to pay for the loss of his soul. He had no wish to die regardless of the reason. Suicide was taboo; he was too much a warrior to consider denying himself the afterworld. But he wanted a way of assuaging some of the pain.
Okay, I will give credit for one thing here. I've reviewed quite a few books now with partner rape. And I will acknowledge that we're seeing something from Donal here that we've never seen from F'lar, F'nor, Jaxom, Duncan, Carillon, et al. (Finn too, but he might only be an attempted rapist.) Remorse.
It's a novelty to see one of these men actually feel guilty for what he's done. That said, Donal's still horrible.
Anyway, he's interrupted by Sef. See, Donal's gone to the oubliette and he worries Donal's going to jump. Sef's roommate had a girl, and he'd gone for a walk. He'd wanted to see "the Lion sleeping" (the throne, I suppose) and caught sight of the stairway in the firepit.
...there's a question, do they just leave it open like that? No wonder Donal was so easily attacked.
Donal explains how a Mujhar goes into the Womb to be reborn a king. He doesn't believe he needs to, since as a man of the clans with the Old Blood, there were other initiations.
I...guess that makes sense. Also someone tried to kill you. But it's true that Donal doesn't need a vision quest to teach him how to be a fantasy first nations allegory for a few days.
They leave the oubliette (Sef finds it scary) and go to the map rooms. Donal points out Solinde on the map...and...
“All of this, aye.” Donal’s finger swept around the blue borders of the realm. “Lestra is here, you see…the city, at the moment, is loyal; but much of the aristocracy is not—these men want to sever the alliance between Homana and Solinde, to claim the land their own.”
Do they? The assassin wasn't Solindish.
Anyway, they discuss whether Solinde wants Homana. Carillon apparently believes they don't. They just want independence. But they'll follow Tynstar and Tynstar would want it.
This politics stuff is pretty interesting:
“Then—Solinde isn’t really your enemy,” Sef said. “It’s the sorcerer, isn’t it?”
Donal sighed, smiling wryly. “You ask things I am not fit to answer. These are questions with historical implications—being clan-born and bred, I know more of the Cheysuli than the Homanans. But I can tell you this much: for years upon years, Solinde—under Bellam—fought to take Homana. Bellam, being an acquisitive man, wanted Homana for himself. But I do not doubt Tynstar blew a fire from the embers with exceedingly careful breaths.” Idly, Donal rested his chin in the palm of one hand. “Bellam is dead now and Carillon holds both realms—but I doubt the Ihlini will ever give up entirely. They will ever be our bane.”
Sef frowned, screwing his pale face into an expression of concentration. “Then—if you slew the demon, Tynstar—we would be free of this war?”
Donal's not sure, but he thinks Tynstar's death might be a point where they could make a lasting peace.
So, Sef asks, why not send someone to slay him? But that's easier said than done. Donal reveals that Tynstar is pretty fucking powerful and more than three hundred years old.
There's a pretty great moment here:
“Gods—” Sef whispered. “How will we ever win?”
“With my help, it will hardly prove so difficult.” Evan of Ellas, striding through the open door, grinned at them both. “I am coming with you.”
Donal stared at him in shock. “I thought you had gone home to Ellas! After that tavern brawl—”
“That brawl?” Evan asked nonchalantly. “I have seen worse in a brothel. No, I have not gone home to Ellas. Not yet. I prefer to stay here a bit.”
“To come to war.” Donal shook his head. “A foolish way to pass the time, Evan. Ellas has no stake in this. If she lost a prince—”
“She has seven others, if you count Lachlan’s sons.” Sleepy eyes alight, Evan shrugged negligently. “I have neither wife nor sons—that I know of—with which to concern myself. I will come with you.”
Evan is great.
But things get a little interesting here:
Sef spoke up before Donal could. “But what would the Crown Prince say?”
“Lachlan?” Evan’s brows rose, though he looked a bit surprised at Sef’s presumption. But it was Donal he answered, not the boy. “Lachlan knows he cannot gainsay me when I put my mind to a thing.” He grinned. “You need my help, Donal. You may as well admit it.”
“It isn’t Ellas’s war,” Sef said.
Donal glanced sharply at the boy. Sef stood stiffly by the table, facing Evan squarely. His chin was thrust upward, as if he prepared to do battle. “Sef. This is better left to the Prince of Ellas and me. You may go.”
Is Sef jealous of Evan? It is true that a few chapters ago, Donal was stuck having a drink with his thirteen year old manservant because he has no friends. Now he has a friend.
But it's more than that. He wants to come to war with Donal and he's afraid if Evan comes, Donal won't take him. Donal reassures him. He doesn't understand why Sef would want to go, but he'll get to come.
Sef leaves happily, while Evan notes how much Sef worships Donal. He thinks the boy would give his life for him. Donal hopes he doesn't have to.
The chapter ends with a pretty great line from Evan:
Evan raised one dark eyebrow. “If we can destroy a single tavern, we should surely have no difficulty with an entire kingdom.”
I mean...I guess it's good to show Donal with Sef and Evan. He's generally at his best with those characters. But I just...
Donal's a rapist now. Albeit more regretful than any of the others. But I don't see how that's much comfort for Aislinn. And yet again, we see nothing of the victim's reaction to any of this. It's infuriating.
And then there's Carillon. Donal at least was in a fucked up situation and expresses remorse (though it'd be nice if he expresses it TO AISLINN). Carillon, the supposedly devoted father, being all "No, really, rape my daughter."
Honestly, for all that he supposedly dotes on her, between sending her ALONE to his evil sorceress wife for TWO YEARS, completely trampling over any attempt she makes to seek comfort (i.e. backing out of riding to the Keep and being completely unsympathetic to her distress) and now this...
Does Carillon hate his daughter? Because honestly, that's the only read on this that makes any kind of sense. But at least the chapter is over.
I don't even really know how to warn for this. I mean, content warning: rape (or at least VERY dubious consent) is appropriate but...
It's more than that, somehow. Content warning: you are about to lose the last shred of respect you may have had for a particular character? Possibly more than that?
Content warning: character assassination? Because even at his worst, and there's been a lot, I can't imagine this character SAYING what he does in this chapter?
I don't even fucking know. I suppose the one thing I'm grateful for is that if you're reading these reviews, you've already seen some pretty fucked up shit. So maybe that'll help.
But enough stalling. Let's go.
So if you recall, last chapter actually left us with a little bit of tension. Because Donal is an idiot, rather than TELL anyone that his wife apparently suffered some kind of possession-induced psychotic break, he went and skipped town for five days. Meaning she could tell anyone anything about what happened and he gave up the opportunity to gainsay her.
And I mean, Carillon's a crap dad, but he's still her father, right? So surely she could tell him something that would make trouble for Donal, right?
Well, let's see:
Carillon stared fixedly into the half-gone goblet of pale sweet wine, as if he dreamed. Donal thought he looked lost somehow, elsewhere entirely; there was a slackness about his spirit, a lessening of the intensity Donal had always known in him. But after a moment he stirred. “I am told you left Aislinn to seek entertainments with Lachlan’s brother; that you embroiled yourself in a brawl that quickly became more than a misunderstanding. Evan says you are fortunate to be alive.”
...I mean, so far, that's actually pretty much the truth. He DID leave Aislinn to go bar-hopping with Evan, almost got killed, and didn't check in for five days.
Oh, by the way, Donal? Might you mention that whole thing about the assassin being Homanan? No?
So Donal has to explain himself:
“Aye.” Donal controlled his voice with effort. “I am—fortunate. But I left Aislinn because she would not have me lie with her. There were—impediments.”
“Impediments?” Carillon straightened in his chair. One hand gripped the goblet, the other clenched on the knobbed end of the wooden chair arm. “If you speak of a young bride’s natural modesty, you should know that a caring husband can overcome impediments such as that.” He did not smile. “You and Sorcha were quite young when first you lay together. And yet you managed it. Why could you not manage this?”
...Carillon. Just shut the fuck up. Dudes who force their wives into marriage don't get to talk now.
So Donal explains: What he heard were Electra's thoughts and words in Aislinn's mouth and he refused to sleep with Electra by proxy. Which, fair enough, but dude could have TOLD SOMEONE instead of abandoning her.
But Donal is pretty reasonable when he says that Electra may be gone, abetting Tynstar in his plans, but she's also here in her daughter's mind, and while she's in there, there'll be no heirs to the throne.
Carillon gets dramatic here:
For just a moment, the twisted hands on the goblet shook. Wine spilled, splashing against the soft leather of Carillon’s boots. “And so they shall win this realm because there are no children of my daughter and her husband,” he said. “War becomes—incidental. Unnecessary, somehow. Because they can destroy us another way.” Carillon drank. He tossed back the wine as if it were water, then poured a second goblet. But this time he only stared into it, his face lined with bitterness and regret.
I mean...you could just legitimize the son Donal already has? Donal is heir to the throne in his own right, not just because of Aislinn. He's the only male descendent of the royal line in his generation. Hell, you could marry MEGHAN off to a suitable person and make HER son Donal's heir.
And also, Aislinn is sixteen. Donal is twenty-four. They've got some time to figure this shit out?
Carillon asks if Electra can be shut away from Aislinn's mind. Donal shrugs, saying that Electra's a parasite and Aislinn is a fragile, erratic host.
...is she? She seemed pretty steady actually when she's in her right mind. Also, wouldn't it be wiser to talk to Finn about this? Finn is a far more experienced telepath?
But then...then...
Carillon sighed and shut his eyes. For a long moment he kept himself in silence. Then, “Name me a monster, if you will, but I must bid you to use force. Use the power I know you have.”
Your eyes do not deceive you.
Remember for a moment that Carillon was the one man in Shapechangers that actually had some grasp of a woman's consent.
And I mean, okay, that went by the wayside in Song something fierce, but this... "Rape my daughter."
Oh, but Carillon clarifies when Donal is rightfully appalled.
Donal stared at him in shock. “You would have me force your daughter?”
“Not rape.” Carillon shook his head. “No, never that. Use the third gift. Compel her to lie with you. I know you will not harm her.”
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THAT IS RAPE. THAT IS THE DEFINITION OF RAPE YOU MONSTROUS FUCKWAD. YOU WANT HIM TO RAPE YOUR DAUGHTER.
Remember how Carillon is a "doting father"? WHAT THE FUCK?! WHAT THE FUCK?!
And again, to give Donal credit, he actually does acknowledge this.
“It is force,” Donal said. “Kin to rape, or worse— you ask me to take her will from her and replace it with my own.”
Carillon set the goblet down on the table and moved slowly to one of the sun-drenched casements. He stared out, but Donal thought he saw nothing. “It is not force if it be replaced with willingness.”
You can't hear me but I am screeching like a pterodactyl. Die. Die now, Carillon. Just die. We lost Alix and Duncan again. It's your turn. I want you fucking dead.
Okay, admittedly, Donal starts to lose me a bit here:
Donal shook his head. “I have no taste for this.”
“I do not ask you to have taste,” Carillon said raggedly. “I ask only that you perform a service any man should be ready and willing to perform.”
“Ready and willing!” Donal threw at him. “This is your daughter, Carillon…not some silly chambermaid!”
...would it be okay to rape a chambermaid?
This is like when Storr told Finn he couldn't rape Alix because she was Cheysuli. I'm guessing we weren't supposed to see that as condoning rape of other Homanan women. And we're probably not supposed to see Donal as a rapist of chambermaids here. But Roberson is sometimes a terrible writer.
Carillon decides to be dramatic:
“Do you think I do not know?” Carillon shouted back. His voice shook a little, and Donal saw the anguish in the depths of the fading blue eyes. “Ah gods, would that I had never married the woman, so this would not be necessary. Would that I had wed someone else—” He broke off. Tears shone in his eyes. “They warned me. Finn, mostly. And Duncan. Even Alix and my sister. Do not wed Electra, they said, she is Tynstar’s meijha and will only seek to slay you. Oh, aye, they had the right of it…and now I pay the price.”
...I mean, it'd be nice if you felt guilty about raping her. Also, I don't remember Duncan or Alix weighing in on this at all. Granted, I do believe Alix would say "Don't rape that woman."
Donal, having learned kingscraft from Carillon, says that he understands. Carillon married her because he had to.
Did he? Because it seems like Solinde was pretty fucking pacified. It's been quiet for twenty years, even when its princess was imprisoned. They didn't send the assassins after all.
“Had to?” Carillon’s twisted smile was bittersweet. “Oh, aye—I had to. For the alliance…but something else as well.” He stared into the goblet. “Aye…there was sorcery and witchcraft, but much more to the woman than that. She was—unlike any other I had ever known. Even now. And—I think I even loved her…for a little while.” Slowly, he lifted the recaptured goblet and drank down what remained of the pale, sweet wine. “Do what you must,” he said at last. “but be gentle with her, Donal.”
Looking at him, Donal felt a chill of apprehension run down the length of his spine. Gods…grant me health, grant me the kindness of never putting such choices before me.
I can't deal with this. I really can't.
--
So he waits until it's very late and goes to see Aislinn. He almost expects the door to be locked, but figures that she may not have expected him to come back.
Except it looks like she did:
Quickly Donal shed boots and leathers. Naked, he stripped aside the draperies, prepared to slip into the bed—
—and found Aislinn waiting for him, kneeling amid the folds of the coverlet.
In the shadows of the curtained bed, her eyes were blackened hollows. Dim candlelight threaded its way through the draperies and burnished bronze her red-gold hair. She wore a thin silken nightshift; nothing else, except her pride.
Aislinn is awesome and deserves better than this story.
Poor Aislinn has so much dignity:
“I knew. No one told me, but—I knew.” She drew in an uneven breath. “All my life I have been brought up to know my task in this world is to bear children for my lord. All my life I have known my firstborn son would become Mujhar in his father’s place, as you will when mine is dead. Well…there will be no son if I do not lie with you.”
She was frightened even as she smiled a wry little smile, stating the obvious; that much he could tell. But frightened of herself, not of him. “It is not you, Aislinn,” he told her. “It is what that witch has done to you.”
And they kind of, almost talk about what's coming:
Gently, he asked, “You know what I must do?”
Aislinn briefly shut her eyes. “Gods, Donal—I would trade almost anything to make this bedding pleasurable for us both! Do you think I wish to spew such vileness from my mouth?” Her fingers were locked into the neckline of her nightshift, twisting at the fabric. “For as long as I can remember, you were the man I wanted. Even as children, I knew I could go to you for anything. And now—now, when I can have you—I drive you instead to her.”
Okay, here's the thing. I get that this is a complicated issue. But I don't really take this as Aislinn expressing consent. She's desperate, terrified and full of self-anger. But does she really UNDERSTAND what Donal's going to be doing to her?
He nearly put out his hands to reach for her, to touch her hair, to stroke her shoulders, but he stopped himself. “Aislinn,” he said gently, “if there were another way I would seek it. I have no taste for this.”
She nodded. And then her eyes beseeched him. “Do you think—it is possible whatever my mother did to me has faded? Perhaps—perhaps it was meant only for the wedding night.”
“Perhaps.” He knew better—she grasped at straws—but said nothing of it. “Aislinn—come and sit beside me.” He himself sat down on the edge of the bed, knowing the posture was unthreatening. And after a moment, she did as he had bidden.
She laughed an odd little laugh. “I feel like a fool. Like an untried girl, nervous before her lord.”
Again, this isn't consent. This is hesitation. Anxiety. It's not a no, but it's not a clear, unequivocal yes either.
Why does this have to happen tonight? Donal was happy to leave it for five days, so why not take five more days to gradually work with Aislinn to overcome Electra's influence. Take her to Finn, have him work with her. Go to her nightly, get romantic, back off when she freaks out and then try again another day.
I bet it would work. And you can be sure that Aislinn knows what she's agreeing to.
Aislinn is clearly seeking some kind of intimate reassurance here, when she asks him about his lir gold and if he takes it off.
And we can see how she's trying here. She's trying so hard:
Her fingers explored the armband. “I see Taj and Lorn in the patterns,” Aislinn said. “The craftsmanship is superb—I have seen many fine gifts offered to my father, but none, I think, so fine as Cheysuli lir-gold. The knife he wears—”
“Finn’s, once. They exchanged knives when they swore the oath of liege man and Mujhar.”
“And broke it.” Aislinn shook her head a little. “What I know of Finn and what I am told are two different things. All those stories…and yet, he is different from what is said. It seems odd, to know a man, and yet realize others know him differently from the years before I was born.”
And see, this is exquisite, because we can see what Aislinn is doing here, even if Donal doesn't seem to.
Aislinn is recontextualizing her fear. She's making herself look at the gold, the very visible symbol of their cultural differences, and appreciate its beauty. She's talking about Finn, a man who scares her. Electra, we know, has told her vile things. And she's focusing on what she knows instead: the man she's met.
She is trying so hard.
Don't do it, Donal. You don't have to. WORK with her instead.
Aislinn is angry at Electra and wants Tynstar dead. And she wants something else:
She did not let him finish, turning instead to face him squarely. Hesitantly, she reached out both hands to touch his shoulders, closing fingers on the muscles. “I want it. I want you—I have always wanted you.”
But things start going wrong:
“Gods…” She breathed it against his mouth. “No one said I would feel like this—”
“Who could?” he asked. “Electra? You see what she has done.”
“My mother is a fool—” Aislinn was in his arms, twisting shoulders free of her garment to press her bare flesh against his. “My mother—”
He felt her body abruptly go rigid beneath his hands. “Aislinn—?” But even as he said her name, he knew what was happening.
“No!” she cried. “No, no—” The shudder wracked her body. Donal saw her head arch back, back, until her throat was bared to him and her hair spilled down against the tangled sheets. The sound she made was one of terror mixed with madness.
Here's the thing though. She IS fighting it!
A physical link was not necessary, but he sought it anyway. Aislinn, utterly limp in his arms, he lay on her back against the bed. He knelt over her, sinking hands through her hair to cup each delicate temple. He felt the pulse-beat beneath the flesh, against the palm of his hands.
“Not this time,” he said grimly. “Not this time, Solindish witch—”
But what Electra had done was not easily broken. Donal met resistance as he sought a way through the barriers to Aislinn’s subconscious. Something battered back at him, trying to throw him away. Instantly he threw up his own shields and advanced, gritting his teeth against the intensity of Electra’s spell.
“Aislinn…fight her…fight Electra—not me!”
But Aislinn was too lost within the ensorcelment. She fought him mentally and physically, sweating and crying in her efforts.
But Donal has an option.
And then he realized there was a way to win. It was not fair. He risked Aislinn even as Electra risked her, but if he did not try, she was lost without a fight of any sort. Donal thought she was worth more than that. And so he sought the essence of the shapechange.
He's not shapechanging, instead:
Donal summoned up the strength. And without warning the helpless girl, he tore through her mental barriers and forced his will upon hers.
He had told Carillon it was tantamount to rape. Donal knew only that as he forced his will upon the girl, he forced more than mental persuasion.
And yet, even as he fought to win Aislinn back from her mother and the Ihlini, Donal became dimly aware of a part of himself that understood the need for compulsion. A part of him knew physical release as well as mental was required, since he sought consummation as a result of forcing her will, and not just persuasion. With a man, there was no question it was merely a mental rape. The compulsion was never sexual. But with a woman, with Aislinn, whom he desired anyway, the compulsion was linked with intensifying need.
...instead he rapes her.
("merely a mental rape", the fuck?)
There's a TOR review of this book where the reviewer seems to believe that Aislinn consented to this. I very much disagree.
Aislinn never fully consented to the idea of sex under Donal's mind control. We saw her express tentative willingness, but also clear desperation and anxiety. Her suggestion that Electra's machinations would have only been for the wedding night betrayed that she was not on board with this idea at all.
And just because she willingly initiated sex while in her right mind does NOT mean that she would be willing to have sex with him while he's telepathically invading her mind as she fights her mother's compulsion.
She was fighting him. And even if her refusal comes of her not being in her right mind, that doesn't mean that she consents.
Distantly, he heard Aislinn crying out. So near the edge, too near the edge; he silenced her with the only gag he had left: his mouth.
Aislinn, I swear…I never wanted it this way…. And until the night of their wedding, Donal had not believed he wanted it at all.
Now he knew he had wanted it longer than he cared to acknowledge. He recalled clearly the young woman who had met him on the Crystal Isle: haughty, defiant princess; later, vulnerable, frightened girl. An assassin as well, but it was yet another facet of her being. She was neither the complaisant, spiritless woman so many Homanans were, nor the cold, powerful sorceress Electra had made of herself. Aislinn was merely—Aislinn. And in their mutual battle against her mother, each sought release whatever way they could find it.
...I guess I'm glad that you finally fucking appreciate your wife?
And just to cap things off:
“I will win, Electra—” And with the strength of the lir-bond, Donal smashed all of Aislinn’s barriers and left nothing in his wake, emptying her resistance like a seedbag spilling grain.
And as she lay empty before him physically and emotionally, he replaced the abhorrence Electra had put there with a terrible need for him.
Not rape… not rape, if she wants me as I want her—
But he realized, as she roused to his hands and his mouth, the compromise was a curse as well as a blessing. Because if the time came Aislinn ever turned to him out of genuine affection, he would never know it.
Look how fucking consensual this is.
God, I hate this book.
--
So we get the morning after. Donal at least feels like a monster:
Remorse? That, and worse. Yet he welcomed the guilt, the anger, the horror; the sickness that turned his belly. It meant he was a man after all, not a beast; not a thing who took and was pleased by the taking, not caring how it was taken or who was hurt. When she awakened Aislinn would recall only a part of what had happened, because the compulsion worked that way, but he would know it all. He would remember everything.
See what I have become?
He stared down into the void. It was not death he sought; not suicide. Not a form of expiation, to pay for the loss of his soul. He had no wish to die regardless of the reason. Suicide was taboo; he was too much a warrior to consider denying himself the afterworld. But he wanted a way of assuaging some of the pain.
Okay, I will give credit for one thing here. I've reviewed quite a few books now with partner rape. And I will acknowledge that we're seeing something from Donal here that we've never seen from F'lar, F'nor, Jaxom, Duncan, Carillon, et al. (Finn too, but he might only be an attempted rapist.) Remorse.
It's a novelty to see one of these men actually feel guilty for what he's done. That said, Donal's still horrible.
Anyway, he's interrupted by Sef. See, Donal's gone to the oubliette and he worries Donal's going to jump. Sef's roommate had a girl, and he'd gone for a walk. He'd wanted to see "the Lion sleeping" (the throne, I suppose) and caught sight of the stairway in the firepit.
...there's a question, do they just leave it open like that? No wonder Donal was so easily attacked.
Donal explains how a Mujhar goes into the Womb to be reborn a king. He doesn't believe he needs to, since as a man of the clans with the Old Blood, there were other initiations.
I...guess that makes sense. Also someone tried to kill you. But it's true that Donal doesn't need a vision quest to teach him how to be a fantasy first nations allegory for a few days.
They leave the oubliette (Sef finds it scary) and go to the map rooms. Donal points out Solinde on the map...and...
“All of this, aye.” Donal’s finger swept around the blue borders of the realm. “Lestra is here, you see…the city, at the moment, is loyal; but much of the aristocracy is not—these men want to sever the alliance between Homana and Solinde, to claim the land their own.”
Do they? The assassin wasn't Solindish.
Anyway, they discuss whether Solinde wants Homana. Carillon apparently believes they don't. They just want independence. But they'll follow Tynstar and Tynstar would want it.
This politics stuff is pretty interesting:
“Then—Solinde isn’t really your enemy,” Sef said. “It’s the sorcerer, isn’t it?”
Donal sighed, smiling wryly. “You ask things I am not fit to answer. These are questions with historical implications—being clan-born and bred, I know more of the Cheysuli than the Homanans. But I can tell you this much: for years upon years, Solinde—under Bellam—fought to take Homana. Bellam, being an acquisitive man, wanted Homana for himself. But I do not doubt Tynstar blew a fire from the embers with exceedingly careful breaths.” Idly, Donal rested his chin in the palm of one hand. “Bellam is dead now and Carillon holds both realms—but I doubt the Ihlini will ever give up entirely. They will ever be our bane.”
Sef frowned, screwing his pale face into an expression of concentration. “Then—if you slew the demon, Tynstar—we would be free of this war?”
Donal's not sure, but he thinks Tynstar's death might be a point where they could make a lasting peace.
So, Sef asks, why not send someone to slay him? But that's easier said than done. Donal reveals that Tynstar is pretty fucking powerful and more than three hundred years old.
There's a pretty great moment here:
“Gods—” Sef whispered. “How will we ever win?”
“With my help, it will hardly prove so difficult.” Evan of Ellas, striding through the open door, grinned at them both. “I am coming with you.”
Donal stared at him in shock. “I thought you had gone home to Ellas! After that tavern brawl—”
“That brawl?” Evan asked nonchalantly. “I have seen worse in a brothel. No, I have not gone home to Ellas. Not yet. I prefer to stay here a bit.”
“To come to war.” Donal shook his head. “A foolish way to pass the time, Evan. Ellas has no stake in this. If she lost a prince—”
“She has seven others, if you count Lachlan’s sons.” Sleepy eyes alight, Evan shrugged negligently. “I have neither wife nor sons—that I know of—with which to concern myself. I will come with you.”
Evan is great.
But things get a little interesting here:
Sef spoke up before Donal could. “But what would the Crown Prince say?”
“Lachlan?” Evan’s brows rose, though he looked a bit surprised at Sef’s presumption. But it was Donal he answered, not the boy. “Lachlan knows he cannot gainsay me when I put my mind to a thing.” He grinned. “You need my help, Donal. You may as well admit it.”
“It isn’t Ellas’s war,” Sef said.
Donal glanced sharply at the boy. Sef stood stiffly by the table, facing Evan squarely. His chin was thrust upward, as if he prepared to do battle. “Sef. This is better left to the Prince of Ellas and me. You may go.”
Is Sef jealous of Evan? It is true that a few chapters ago, Donal was stuck having a drink with his thirteen year old manservant because he has no friends. Now he has a friend.
But it's more than that. He wants to come to war with Donal and he's afraid if Evan comes, Donal won't take him. Donal reassures him. He doesn't understand why Sef would want to go, but he'll get to come.
Sef leaves happily, while Evan notes how much Sef worships Donal. He thinks the boy would give his life for him. Donal hopes he doesn't have to.
The chapter ends with a pretty great line from Evan:
Evan raised one dark eyebrow. “If we can destroy a single tavern, we should surely have no difficulty with an entire kingdom.”
I mean...I guess it's good to show Donal with Sef and Evan. He's generally at his best with those characters. But I just...
Donal's a rapist now. Albeit more regretful than any of the others. But I don't see how that's much comfort for Aislinn. And yet again, we see nothing of the victim's reaction to any of this. It's infuriating.
And then there's Carillon. Donal at least was in a fucked up situation and expresses remorse (though it'd be nice if he expresses it TO AISLINN). Carillon, the supposedly devoted father, being all "No, really, rape my daughter."
Honestly, for all that he supposedly dotes on her, between sending her ALONE to his evil sorceress wife for TWO YEARS, completely trampling over any attempt she makes to seek comfort (i.e. backing out of riding to the Keep and being completely unsympathetic to her distress) and now this...
Does Carillon hate his daughter? Because honestly, that's the only read on this that makes any kind of sense. But at least the chapter is over.
Comparing Carillon to a character in my fics
Date: 2021-08-04 09:00 am (UTC)In my fics, there is ONE character who acts like this. He is a king, but not a good one. That character despises rapists and executes them on the spot, yet condones and even creates love potions and imprints because "the victims are happy" that way. He has made, with magic, women think about nothing but men they have no chemistry with and vice versa. But no, that's not rape for him.
Carillon could be posessed by that guy, who wanted to make another imprint.
This guy is the Dark One, who in my fics is the Big Bad of the whole series. The person the heroes, including Alix, want to bring down along with his legacy!
Congrats, Carillon! You are now just like my version of the Antichrist!
“I will win, Electra—” And with the strength of the lir-bond, Donal smashed all of Aislinn’s barriers and left nothing in his wake, emptying her resistance like a seedbag spilling grain.
And as she lay empty before him physically and emotionally, he replaced the abhorrence Electra had put there with a terrible need for him.
Not rape… not rape, if she wants me as I want her—
But he realized, as she roused to his hands and his mouth, the compromise was a curse as well as a blessing. Because if the time came Aislinn ever turned to him out of genuine affection, he would never know it.
This right here? This is a Dyad/Imprint/Love spell. And it is VERY MUCH RAPE!
Re: Comparing Carillon to a character in my fics
Date: 2021-08-04 02:38 pm (UTC)You're right. He's channeling your series villain. And yet, we're still supposed to not hate him, I guess.
no subject
Date: 2024-09-08 11:58 am (UTC)Can we go back to the characters from the first half of the second book? I don't remember any real monstrous thoughts or actions there.
Even setting aside the rape thing, having Donal use the Cheysuli mind control on Aislinn while she's affected by Ihlini magic seems like a very bad idea. "Could have activated a lethal trap" level bad idea. I can only imagine that Tynstar would have loved to eliminate the two people closest to the throne of Homana and central to the prophecy at once in a murder-suicide in their marriage bed.