It's Ivy, the Ice Elf!

this bind went through a few different iterations--i got almost through the case drafting stage and literally the night before i was planning to start making cutouts in my boards i woke up at like 3AM and completely changed the entire design. it switched everything from a mostly full-cloth bind with a few minor details to a faux three-piece bradel (flatback) with bunch of moving parts, but it was totally worth it in the end.

the is fabric, mulberry, and lokta layered across 20pt, 50pt, and 70pt board with HTV titling and accents. there was a minor issue with the cover titling disappearing into the background but i went over it a second time in white slightly off-center to create a sort of drop shadow effect with the gold and i think it turned out really lovely.

the edges are hand-mixed speckled blue metallic paint and gold calligraphy ink with a 4mm gold silk bookmark, 10k gold clasp, and celestial charm. i sewed 2-thread, single-core medieval style endbands as usual, and the blue thread is a close match to the thread used to sew the textblock together.

the typset for this one was particularly fun. i found a bunch of different starmaps from the 1600-1800s and used them to accent the different chapter pages. there are nine total, each rotated three times across 23 chapters and the title page, showing the both the progression of time and tsukasen's relationship throughout the story. i also included ursa major/minor and orion constellation accents on empty rectos because i felt those were fitting for the characters.

here are a few additional typeset samples! and shoutout as always to my friends for listening to me lament about one thing or another on voicechat or in person--this time mostly about math, haha. until the next one!

Mercifully, not much in Cassian and Azriels' descriptions warrants mentioning - Cassian is the most primal beastman-y of all the primal beastmen, Azriel has a truly impressive number of knife and shadow similes ascribed to him.

Rhys said, “This is Azriel—my spymaster.” Not surprising. Some buried instinct had me checking that my mental shields were intact. Just in case.

And this is why you don't go around telling people who your spymaster is, or indeed, even have "spymaster" be an official, appointable public office. All you do is make people wary of them, which seriously gimps their usefulness as a spymaster. I think I ranted about it somewhere before.

We also learn that Azriel's hands are horrifically burned, and also that he and Cassian have these jewel things on the backs of their hands. But we don't get to know what those are yet. There's banter to be had, after all.

Feyre remarks about Cassian calling Rhys "brother" earlier.

Rhysand clarified, “Brothers in the sense that all bastards are brothers of a sort.”

But...... weren't your parents married, Rhys? Mated, even? What, you didn't like that someone else had some angst you couldn't claim, so you decided to muscle in on it anyway? Ass.

Cassian shrugged, wings tucking in tighter. “I command Rhys’s armies.”

And he's about as good at it as Hunt is at commanding the angel armies in CC. That is to say, not at all.

And—armies. Rhys had armies.

Yeah, that's kinda the thing about being the lord of the land. You have all the soldiers. So that you can, in theory, use them to defend the people. Wild how that works. Almost like the book doesn't understand that this should be a pretty normal idea for the setting. It's weird for a random rich guy to have an army - it's not weird for a lord. But we all know what Rhys is meant to be. That's why he gets away with shirking all the lordly responsibilities the book was crucifying Tamlin for earlier, after all.

More banter and the book cheating by having Feyre Just Know what people's motivations are, and then Cassian asks about how she defeated the Middengard worm. However, while such a deed is a cardinal sin in Spring, in the Night Court, it just makes Feyre snark back asking how no one has killed him yet. Sure. Whatever. She does make a token show of bitterness, though.

Well, that settled that. And the question of whether he’d been Under the Mountain. But where he’d been instead … Another mystery. Perhaps here—with these people. Safe and coddled.

It's just a token, though. What, you didn't think she'd actually be allowed to dislike these people, did you? The fic-author's pet OCs????

Feyre's snark makes Cassian laugh, of course, and she ping-pongs looking at the various characters before Mor comes out to banter, so we can be schooled on that situation.

Both Illyrians turned toward her, Cassian bracing his feet slightly farther apart on the floor in a fighting stance I knew all too well. It was almost enough to distract me from noticing Azriel as those shadows lightened, and his gaze slid over Mor’s body:

For those not in the know, it's a whole kind-of-but-not-really love triangle in which pretty much everyone is a terrible person, and that wouldn't even exist if a single one of them had the maturity of even a 20-year-old, let alone a 500+-year-old.

Banter about clothes.

“Unlike some people,” Cassian said, proving my suspicions correct about that fighting stance,

........what does saying that prove about the fighting stance? All it proves is that he's immature and passive-aggressive. Or just bantering, I suppose. These are meant to all be friends who know each other well, after all. We can presume (wrongly, but it's not unreasonable for a new reader to do so) that they know where each other's boundaries are and such.

More banter, Azriel is one with the shadows in a way that even the edgiest of edgelord teens would be impressed by, and then they all go into the dining room, where Amren is waiting. She gets a few paragraphs of description, and much fuss is made of how scary-scary dangerous she is, and... ngl, I kind of picture her like Edna Mode from The Incredibles. Which does nothing but improve the book imo.

Anyway, Amren walks up to Feyre, and then thanks Rhys for his recent gift of a pearl brooch.

So that’s who he’d bought the jewelry for. The jewelry I was to never, under any circumstances, try to steal.

Hey, Feyre! Remember at the Spring Court, when you were whining about how excessive and wasteful all the jewellery and such was? No? Yeah, didn't think so. God the hypocrisy shits me to tears sometimes.

Amren finally actually turns her attention to Feyre, and says something cryptic about there being "two of them" now.

Amren’s lips were a slash of red. “We who were born something else—and found ourselves trapped in new, strange bodies.” I decided I really didn’t want to know what she’d been before.

You know, believe it or not, book, people actually enjoy reading about protagonists who are curious and do things and try to find shit out. Shocking, I know. But this is to become a recurring problem in this series. Feyre is just not interested in all the plot hooks the book is throwing at her, and so, they mostly either get resolved off-page or never get mentioned again.

Amren jerked her chin at me to sit in the empty chair beside Mor, her hair shifting like molten night. She claimed the seat across from me, Azriel on her other side as Rhys took the one across from him—on my right. No one at the head of the table.

Which, despite how much you're trying to make that sentence stand out by placing it on its own line, book, we already know is an empty gesture, because Rhys has already explained that his circle is, in fact, a pyramid. Where he chooses to sit at the table is irrelevant.

Amren also name-drops Miryam as being a third "one of them", which I'm only mentioning because I vaguely remember Miryam becoming randomly important later and not having a clue who she was at the time. Not to say that this is adequate foreshadowing for that, mind - it clearly wasn't - but more to point out that just randomly mentioning someone by name does not count as foreshadowing.

Cassian rolled his eyes. “Please just get to the point, Amren. I’m hungry.” Mor choked on her wine. Amren slid her attention to the warrior [Cassian] to her right. Azriel, on her other side, monitored the two of them very, very carefully.

One of the things that makes these books so, so painful to summarise, is that there's a lot of this sort of thing. Just, random little updates on what everyone is doing. Nothing is really all that relevant to anything. But it just keeps doing this and doing this and doing this and doing this. And because of how scattered and piecemeal it is, it's really hard to summarise without just vaguely going "everyone does stuff," or else writing more words than were actually in the book to encapsulate it. It's very annoying. And it also makes it painfully obvious that the writer just does not have the skill to write scenes with more than two or three characters in it. She doesn't know what to do with them.

We endure a couple of sex jokes before Rhys brings us back on topic to what Amren found "interesting" about Feyre and Miryam.

Amren’s head tilted to the side as she studied me. I tried not to shrink from it. “Only once before was a human Made into an immortal. Interesting that it should happen again right as all the ancient players have returned. But Miryam was gifted long life—not a new body. And you, girl …” [...] “Your very blood, your veins, your bones were Made. A mortal soul in an immortal body.” “I’m hungry,” Mor said nudging me with a thigh.

No, it may surprise you to know that Mor is actually older than 6. Shocking, I know. You'd think that all of the people allegedly responsible for running a country would be interested in weird shit like this happening, but you'd apparently be wrong. Food trumps all, even people literally having their bodies remade to bring them back from the dead right as a bunch of other sus shit is happening. They're hungwyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

Also... is there any reason they have to wait for Amren to finish speaking before they can eat? Have they never heard of conversation over dinner?

She snapped a finger, and plates piled high with roast chicken, greens, and bread appeared. Simple, but … elegant. Not formal at all.

Not sure I'd described chicken, unspecified greens and bread as "elegant", but you do you, Feyre. God, this is even lazier than the Spring Court food descriptions last book. A new low.

She picked up her fork, clicking her tongue. “I asked Rhys if I could take you [Feyre] to dinner, just the two of us, and he said you wouldn’t want to.

How generous of Rhys to decide what Feyre does and doesn't want for her! No need to ask for her opinion on the matter at all!

“For someone who is the same age as me,” Rhys drawled, “you seem to forget—” “Everyone wants to talk-talk-talk,” Mor said, giving a warning glare at Cassian, who had indeed opened his mouth. “Can’t we eat-eat-eat, and then talk?”

Because in 500+ years, none of them have figured out that you can do both. So amazing, these wonderful High Fae. Humanity is just so inferior by comparison.

An interesting balance between Rhys’s terrifying Second and his disarmingly chipper Third. If Mor’s rank was higher than that of the two warriors at this table, then there had to be some other reason beyond that irreverent charm. Some power to allow her to get into the fight with Amren that Rhys had mentioned—and walk away from it.

Or, maybe the rankings have nothing to do with power, and Mor actually just has the better skill set for the role of third? I mean, I disagree that she has such a skill set, but still. Why assume it's all based on raw power? I'm p sure we humans don't choose any of our leaders today based on who would win in a fistfight. Indeed, I don't think we've seriously chosen leaders based on just that since maybe the caveman days. They've generally needed to possess some other skills (or some sort of "noble" blood or whatever) as well, even if strength was considered important in some places. But, I suppose it's just another way the High Fae are Better than us. They decide who gets to be in charge based on who can punch the hardest, instead of using their brains or something dumb like that.

Banter, banter.

Then [Cassian] frowned at Amren, who had hardly touched her plate. “I always forget how bizarre that is.” He unceremoniously took her plate, dumping half the contents on his own before passing the rest to Azriel. Azriel said to Amren as he slid the food onto his plate, “I keep telling him to ask before he does that.”

Well, you're SoL Azriel, this is the Night Court, where consent is just something Rhys made up for good PR. Also... what, even after knowing for 500+ years that Amren doesn't eat, they still make (well, magic) her a plate of food? Really? Just so we can awkwardly show Feyre that she doesn't eat? Wouldn't Amren not having a plate serve the exact same purpose? And actually give (some) weight to the hunger whining before, as someone berates Amren for forgetting that the rest of them actually need to eat?

More banter in which Feyre decides she doesn't want to know about anything (because it's too scary dangerous, see).

Rhys chuckled from my other side. “Remind me to have family dinners more often.” Family dinners—not official court gatherings.

For actual nobility, the two are one and the same. But don't tell the book that. It still thinks running a country is basically the same as a 9-5 desk job, and if your High Lord fiance tries to pretend otherwise, he's just being a meaniepants.

Feyre starts informing us what (she thinks, but the book doesn't make this distinction) everyone's motivations are and tells us that because the Night Court people don't give a shit about what they wear, that makes them useful allies, or something. No, it's not actually any more coherent in the book itself. Then, it's time to look at Azriel, so we can infodump about siphons (the gems he and Cassian wear) and how Illyrians have heaps of "killing power" but no other magic, and the siphons do something vague and unspecified regarding that. With some bonus racism against Illyrians thrown in, because why not. But Azriel agrees, and he *is* Illyrian, so that makes it okay, right?????? Ugh.

Cassian bared his teeth in feral amusement, and took a drink of his wine.

I... what the fuck does this even look like? You know, the more baring of teeth I read about in SJM's books, the more I become convinced that she doesn't actually know what those words mean. Baring teeth is a sign of aggression, not amusement, in basically every species that is capable of baring teeth. And humans don't bare their teeth all that much anyway.

Well, anyway, Feyre calls Cassian a lord, prompting many paragraphs of everyone laughing at her, because of course Rhys doesn't have silly things like "lords" in his 2-kewl-4-skool court.

[R]"...Mor, believe it or not, is the only pure-blooded, titled person in this room.” Not him? Rhys must have seen the question on my face because he said, “I’m half-Illyrian. As good as a bastard where the thoroughbred High Fae are concerned.”

And the fact that you are not only High Lord, but the Most Powerful High Lord Ever (that they're all shit-scared of) has absolutely no bearing on this, I suppose? Lol, okay, Rhys. Just say you were mad because Cassian and Azriel get bastard angst and you don't.

Cassian finished his laughing. “Illyrians are certainly not High Fae. And glad of it.” He hooked his black hair behind an ear—rounded; as mine had once been. “And we’re not lesser faeries, though some try to call us that. We’re just—Illyrians. Considered expendible aerial cavalry for the Night Court at the best of times, mindless soldier grunts at the worst.”

And here we have our first attempt at describing the Illyrians as something other than evil "pains in the ass" who "gleefully" joined Amarantha and thus deserved to be hunted down by Rhys and co. As you can see, it's not much of an improvement. Especially since Feyre doesn't so much as bat an eye at the idea that an entire race of people are considered "expendable cavalry" at *best.* Also, that's another spelling error with "expendible" there. Seriously, was this book proofread at all?

“I didn’t see you Under the Mountain,” I said instead. I had to know without a doubt—if they were there, if they’d seen me, if it’d impact how I interacted while working with—

As you can see, Feyre has already forgotten about how she was mad at them for being coddled earlier. Because, yes, this is when we discover that not a single one of the annoying fix-fic OCs Inner Circle were Under the Mountain at all, and were instead safe and sound in Velaris the whole time.

Rhys hadn’t expected to see them again when he’d been dragged Under the Mountain. Yet he had kept them safe, somehow.

And you know this how, Feyre? Stop making up motivations for Rhys to try and make him look more selfless. It isn't working. All it means is that all of these people:

Uber scary dangerous eldritch entity that even Rhys doesn't like tangling with

She of the unspecified Truth powers that is able to tangle with said eldritch entity

The Strongest Illyrian General Ever

Mr I-Am-The-Night and also the Strongest Illyrian Ever

Sat on their asses and did nothing while the entirety of Prythian suffered. What? You don't think that, by their powers combined, they could have dealt with Amarantha? Really? Tamlin fucking soloed her once he got his power back (and he's not even the Most Powerful High Lord Ever), I see no reason why these four couldn't have teamed up and done something. Or at least tried.

And it killed them—the four people at this table. It killed them all that he’d done it, however he’d done it. Even Amren.

Again, how do you know this, Feyre? You don't. You're making it up. Seeing what you want to see. Or rather, what the book wants us to see.

Perhaps picking one city, one place, to shield was better than nothing. Perhaps … perhaps it was a comforting thing, to have a spot in Prythian that remained untouched. Unsullied.

No. No, that's Rhys getting into your head again, with his Most-Powerful-High-Lord-Ever Undetectable Daemati Powers. It's cowardice, at best. Like, it'd be one thing if they remained hidden so they could launch a secret counterattack or something, but they didn't. They sat on their asses for fifty years, and had to wait for a random human girl to save them.

Mor’s voice was a bit raw as she explained to me, her golden combs glinting in the light, “There is not one person in this city who is unaware of what went on outside these borders. Or of the cost.” I didn’t want to ask what price had been demanded. The pain that laced the heavy silence told me enough.

The scenes we saw in the city streets earlier beg to differ. Also...... what? What "price" was demanded here? The people of Velaris haven't had to pay shit so far as Amarantha was concerned. And they've been isolated for many thousands of years, so it's not like they can even try claiming they've got friends and family outside the city. What? Is the book seriously trying to claim that hearing about other, hypothetical people dying, over there, where you don't have to look at it or have it affect your life in any meaningful capacity, is the "price" that was "demanded" of Velaris?? Fuck, it's more performative grieving, making all the right noises where people can see you, but not actually giving a fuck underneath. The people of Velaris did fucking nothing for all that time, despite Mor saying now that every single one of them knew what was going on. I absolutely can, and will, judge them for that.

Hmm. Or, rather...... it's less judging them for not doing anything (because at the end of the day, most of the citizens of Velaris probably aren't Most Powerful protagonists). It's more like, Mor is kind of framing it here as though the people in Velaris have suffered due to knowing what was going on. They haven't. They just objectively haven't. That's like saying that people in Australia or the US have suffered just because they saw a news story about Gaza or Ukraine. It doesn't work like that. We can feel bad about what's happening, sure, but it's complete self-centred arrogance to claim we've "suffered" just for knowing about it. The people in those conflicts are the ones actually suffering.

Yet if they might all live through their pain, might still laugh …

Feyre. The people of Velaris haven't had to live through any pain. They have, expressly, been shielded from harm, not just from Amarantha, but for the thousands of years before she came as well. Of course they can still laugh. All the pain happened to other people.

I cleared my throat, straightening, and said to Azriel, who, shadows or no, seemed the safest and therefore was probably the least so, “How did you meet?”

Er, okay. Enough of that, then. Random topic change is random. Also, what the fuck kind of logic is that? "He looks safe, so he probably isn't, and so I'll ask my small-talk questions to him." Dafuq, Feyre?

Azriel merely turned to Cassian, who was staring at Rhys with guilt and love on his face, so deep and agonized that some now-splintered instinct had me almost reaching across the table to grip his hand.

Oh my fucking god. Wangst a little harder, why don't you? I can't smell how profound their pain is through the page yet.

Beside me, the light had winked out of Rhys’s eyes. What I’d asked about Amarantha, what horrors I’d made him remember …

You... didn't ask about Amarantha, though? You asked how the three guys met? I am seriously confused rn.

But anyway, yes, after that random aside, it's time to hear about Cassian and Azriel's tragic backstories. You know, as you tend to discuss over dinner with a stranger. Basically, they're both actually bastards, and were treated like dirt because the tragic backstory has to come from somewhere. Getting dumped in strange camps, put in near-death experiences, losing their mothers, the works. Again, all the kind of things you discuss with strangers over dinner.

“The Illyrians,” Rhys smoothly cut in, that light finally returning to his gaze, “are unparalleled warriors, and are rich with stories and traditions. But they are also brutal and backward, particularly in regard to how they treat their females.”

I don't know, Rhys, you're the one who insists on calling them "females."

Also, no, we never get to hear about these "rich stories and traditions." Basically everything we hear about the Illyrians is how they're violent savages who hate women. But that won't stop the book paying lip service to "stories and traditions" existing and thinking that makes it not racist. Even more galling is that the Illyrians were actual people who existed. Yes. Maas took the name of a real group of people for her fantasy flying caveman race. And then made them the first (and most prominent) Ambiguously Brown people we see. Maas's Illyrians don't have enough of a culture to point to a specific real-world parallel (not even the Illyrians from which they take their name, and we know very little about them - that's how empty the ACOTAR Illyrian culture is), but even so, it can't help but leave a bad taste in one's mouth.

“They’re barbarians,” Amren said, and neither Illyrian male objected. Mor nodded emphatically, even as she noted Azriel’s posture and bit her lip. “They cripple their females so they can keep them for breeding more flawless warriors.”

Again with the fucking breeding. But here's a thought. Do they know about how genetics work in the Maas-verse? Because, before Darwin kicked off his theory of evolution by natural selection, we (incorrectly) believed things to occur more like Lamarck's theory of evolution. Where Darwin's theory says that giraffes ended up with long necks because the ones that happened to have longer necks already (due to random chance/fluctuations/mutations) could reach more food, and thus had a better chance of survival and passing on their long-necked genes, Lamarck's theory says that giraffes developed long necks because of stretching to reach the leaves, and it was this long-ness acquired during the creature's life that was passed on to its offspring. We now know that this is wrong, but you can kind of understand why it would appear that way to a society that had yet to discover how natural selection works.

So, my question is this - do the backwards, savage Illyrians, actually have a more sophisticated understanding of science than the rest of the setting does? Because that's the only way this stupid idea makes sense, is if they understand that crippling the women doesn't actually change their genetics. What would be more likely, in my opinion, is that they'd think that Big Strong Warrior Man + Big Strong Warrior Woman = Big Strong Warrior Baby, in which case deliberately crippling your women seems kinda counter-intuitive. But, what do I know, I guess. I'm getting in the way of the captive breeding fantasy.

Anyway, this prompts Rhys to then answer my earlier question about his mother and how she avoided having her wings clipped. Tells us all about the practice, how his mother starved herself and took all sorts of herbs to try stave off her period, how she was captured and dragged off, how his father happened to arrive just in time for the mating bond to snap into place and then subsequently killed all the guards. And what does Feyre have to say in response to this?

My brows narrowed. “Misted?”

Yes, of course, asking the question that lets Rhys show off how he can mist a lemon and thus make him look very badass. I'd be more concerned about the wing-clipping, personally. The specifics of what "misting" could be really aren't fucking important, Feyre. There's an entire race of women being brutalised here.

[R]"...[Rhy's mother] tried for decades to get my father to ban [wing clipping], but the War was coming, and he wouldn’t risk isolating the Illyrians when he needed them to lead his armies. And to die for him.” “A real prize, your father,” Mor grumbled.

Don't worry, Rhys does basically the same thing. Sure, he "bans" wing-clipping..... and then does absolutely nothing to enforce it, because he doesn't want to risk isolating the Illyrians when he needs them to lead his armies. And die for him. He, too, is a real prize.

Anyway, Rhys keeps going on - his daddy didn't like him, and also his parents didn't like each other even though they were maaaaaates, he learned to summon and dismiss his mixed-race markers at will and his mother decided it was time for him to learn about Illyrian culture. She took him to camp and dropped him in a fighting ring. But his power was Too Powerful for the siphons, but he didn't know how to actually fight. I don't know. It's all a very long-winded way of expanding on a part of Rhys's tragic backstory that really doesn't need expanding. Also, I don't like him and thus don't care. And also also, we're meant to be hearing about how the three boys met, but we've been talking about Rhys's mother for a solid page now.

The next page we finally get to Rhys and Cassian meeting. It takes the whole page to basically say that Rhys stuck out like a sore thumb (being the High Lord's kid) and got in a fight with Cassian, but apparently Rhys is living at the camp now with his mother and they took Cassian in, because Rhys felt guilty about his privilege. I'm reading between the lines a bit, but that's basically the gist of it. Azriel arrives later (we're told he's a shadowsinger, but that's about it), and apparently can't fly at first. But we gloss over that and devolve into banter about how all the other Illyiran boys so unfairly hated the son of the lord who kept them in such shitty conditions, and the two kids he'd randomly adopted for no discernible reason. Can't imagine why they wouldn't like Rhys, such a mystery, really. It's like the rich white couple who adopt an African kid and are then mystified that the rest of Africa doesn't think they're a saint for it.

[C]"...Especially as we reached the age of maturity, and all we wanted to do was fuck and fight.” “Males are horrible creatures, aren’t they?” Amren said. “Repulsive,” Mor said, clicking her tongue. Some surviving, small part of my heart wanted to … laugh at that.

Ahahahaha, oh, those silly old gender stereotypes! So hilarious and original, yes? Definitely didn't roll my eyes reading it or anything like that.

Cassian shrugged. “Rhys’s power grew every day—and everyone, even the camp-lords, knew he could mist everyone if he felt like it. And the two of us … we weren’t far behind.”

And naturally, these are exactly the sort of people you'd want to alienate and bully. Especially in a might-makes-right society that values and respects strength. Right. Makes perfect sense. Fucking idiots. They weren't rude because they were jealous or whatever the fuck this is meant to imply, they were rude because the three of you are such despicable people that it overrides one's survival instinct and forces them to be nasty even though you could kill them. That's the headcanon I'm going with anyway, I don't care how the book tries to spin it.

But anyway, blah blah, Cassian and Azriel are the most powerful Illyrians ever, because they're the only bastards to ever get siphons, and then the war happens. Rhys's dad thinks that Rhys and his friends will turn whatever legion they're in against him, so instead he puts them all in different legions so they can turn three separate ones against him. Make it make sense.

[R]“Once I became High Lord, I appointed these four to my Inner Circle, and told the rest of my father’s old court that if they had a problem with my friends, they could leave. They all did. Turns out, having a half-breed High Lord was made worse by his appointment of two females and two Illyrian bastards.”

Are you sure it wasn't your horrible personality that made them leave? Or the horrible personalities of your friends? Because not a single one of them is a decent person. Also, GG Rhys, turfing out all the experienced statespeople in order to put your inexperienced and unqualified cronies in charge. What could possibly go wrong! It's not like we have countless examples in history of why that's a bad idea...... even one happening in real-time right now.

Rhys shrugged, those great wings shifting with the movement. “The nobility of the Night Court fall into one of three categories: those who hated me enough that when Amarantha took over, they joined her court and later found themselves dead; those who hated me enough to try to overthrow me and faced the consequences; and those who hated me, but not enough to be stupid and have since tolerated a half-breed’s rule, especially when it so rarely interferes with their miserable lives.”

So.... what you're telling me, Rhys, is that everyone in the entire Night Court hates you.... and you don't see a common denominator here? None whatsoever? Not a single noble can find a single redeeming quality in you? I mean. Speaks for itself, really.

[R]"...I gave [the Hewn City] to them, for not being fools. They’re happy to stay there, rarely leaving, ruling themselves and being as wicked as they please, for all eternity.”

Rhys, they don't "rarely leave" because they're "happy to stay there," you literally don't let them leave even if they want to. You've trapped all those people under that mountain, just like Amarantha did, and Feyre (or the book) will never say a word about any of this. Not even when those people are right in front of her.

That was the court he must have shown Amarantha when she first arrived—and its wickedness must have pleased her enough that she modeled her own after it.

Notably absent: any hint of recognition from Feyre that Rhys is still meant to be in charge of that "wicked" court. Either he's their High Lord, in which case he's to blame for not addressing the wickedness (he's the Most Powerful High Lord Ever, remember, he is more than capable of doing so). Or, they're an autonomous people over whom he has no control, in which case, he can fuck off trying to pretend he's High Lord of anything but Velaris.

“And what is this [referring to Velaris/the Inner Circle] court?” I asked, gesturing to them. The most important question.

Er, no, no I don't think that's the most important question, Feyre. I think the most important question is why the fuck Rhys is cool with letting the Hewn City get away with all their evil bullshit, and letting the Illyrians get away with mutilating their women. But go off, I guess.

Anyway, this is the Court of Dreams, because it's full of people who sit around daydreaming about how awesome it would be if everyone except them weren't such poopyheads, instead of actually trying to address any of the problems in the rest of the court.

Amren gets a mere two lines of backstory, which basically amounts to "I'd never been someone's second before, so I thought I'd give it a crack," which is fine, honestly. She's an eldritch monstrosity, she's allowed to just wanna try things.

Mor leaned back in her seat, Azriel now watching every movement she made with subtle, relentless focus.

This will never not be creepy. And just fucking weird. Like.

?????????????????????????????

Anyway, it's Feyre's turn at Tragic Backstories now, and she summarises her family situation for us in a paragraph. Then, she starts wondering about Azriel.

He hadn’t told his story. Did it ever come up? Or did they never discuss those burns on his hands? And what did the shadows whisper to him—did they speak in a language at all?

Feyre. You literally just met the guy. "Not telling a stranger the story of his mutilated hands over a casual dinner" isn't the same as "never discussing it at all." Seriously. For what's meant to be a casual get-to-know-you dinner, everyone sure is quick to whip out the Tragic Backstories. Almost like the author thinks it's a substitute for actual characterisation or something.....

Cassian offers to train her in fighting, Feyre angsts about how she doesn't want to feel weak again.

But what Ianthe and Tamlin had said … “You don’t think it sends a bad message if people see me learning to fight—using weapons?” The moment the words were out, I realized the stupidity of them. The stupidity of—of what had been shoved down my throat these past few months.

The only thing that's stupid is that the book expects anyone reading this to buy that anyone in-world thought this was a plausible excuse. Yes, even Tamlin. The only thing that makes it make sense is if Rhys was mind-controlling him into it.

Anyway, Mor starts talking about stuff.

“...I once lived in a place where the opinion of others mattered. It suffocated me, nearly broke me. So you’ll understand me, Feyre, when I say that I know what you feel, and I know what they tried to do to you, and that with enough courage, you can say to hell with a reputation.” Her voice gentled, and the tension between them all faded with it. “You do what you love, what you need.”

And you know, that's all well and good...... when you're not planning to marry into running the nation. Whether the girlbosses of the world like it or not, that kind of thing *does* require caring about the opinions of other people, and presenting yourself a certain way. Hell, the entire concept of elections is predicated on the opinions of the people. And even beyond votes, things like manners, respect, dignity, appearances, reputation, public and personal opinions, they do hold importance for things like that. But, I suppose it tracks. The Night Court lives by this mantra, and no one else in-universe likes the Night Court. Gee, I wonder why. Could it be because they're all selfish pricks who only care about doing what they want and need????

Again, this advice can be all well and good. For, say, an average Jane getting herself out of a controlling relationship, for example. But the people discussing this aren't average Janes. They're running the god-damn country. And believe it or not, leaders do need to observe certain behaviours. Otherwise, revolutions tend to happen.

Mor would not tell me what to wear or not wear.

Nah, that's Rhysand's job.

She would not allow me to step aside while she spoke for me.

Also Rhysand's job. Like when he told Mor you didn't want to have dinner with just her, for example.

Anyway, this is all a wind-up for Feyre to tell us that Mor is actually totally her friend, unlike villainous Ianthe of the filthy Spring Court. Never mind that she's spoken to Mor like.... twice, over the course of several months, and thus probably doesn't have a very good idea of who she is at all.

But what she’d said … what they’d all said … Yes, Rhys had been wise to bring me here.

He's talking in your head again, Feyre.

Feyre says she'll think about Cassian's offer to train her that he made like... a page ago now.

Through the bond in my hand, I could have sworn I felt a glimmer of pleased surprise. I checked my mental shields—but they were intact. And Rhysand’s calm face revealed no hint of its origin.

Feyre. You already know your shields don't mean shit to this guy. Where else do you think it could come from?

But, anyway, she agrees to work with everyone against Hybern, which prompts Rhys to move on to phase two of his plan.

Rhys interlaced his fingers and rested them on the table, and I realized there was another point to this dinner beyond my decision as he announced to all of us, “Because the King of Hybern is indeed about to launch a war, and he wants to resurrect Jurian to do it.”

Dun dun.......... dun...?

.............................wasn't Jurian the leader of the human rebels however many unspecified numbers of years ago they had that war? Why would the King of Hybern (the faerie who wants to enslave all the humans again) think resurrecting him would help his cause?

Everyone says that's not possible, and seems more hung up on necromancy being evil than wondering why the fuck he'd do it in the first place. Except for Mor, who asks the question...

Mor groaned, “Why would the king want to resurrect Jurian? He was so odious. All he liked to do was talk about himself.”

...but kinda misses the point on why it makes zero sense for him to do so. Again, Jurian was in charge of the human rebels. The ones fighting against the likes of Hybern. I'm trying to remember how the book tried to justify this, but I'm coming up blank.

“That’s what I want to find out,” Rhysand said. “And how the king plans to do it.”

I would also like to know how you know this, Rhysand. But I get the feeling we don't get to know that.

They talk about Feyre's resurrection proving it's possible.

“All seven High Lords would have to agree to that,” Mor countered. “There’s not a chance it happens. He’ll take another route.”

I mean........ if Hybern is going to invade, wouldn't it make sense for the High Lords to want to revive the guy who fought against him last time? I'm so confused rn.

I breathed, “That—that’s why the ring and the finger bone vanished after Amarantha died. For this. But who …” My mouth went dry. “They never caught the Attor, did they?”

Didn't they? First we're hearing of it. And the ring and finger disappearing too, I'm pretty sure. But, whatever. This is what's happening now. I guess.

Rhys asks Amren how the resurrection would work, she says idk go talk to the Bone Carver in Prison, he says she should do it, she refuses and tells him to send one of his dogs instead.

Cassian grinned, showing his white, straight teeth—perfect for biting. Amren snapped hers once in return.

Fucking juvenile.

There's much fuss and roiling of powers and whatnot from everyone.

“If anyone’s going to the Prison,” Rhys said before Mor opened her mouth, “it’s me. And Feyre.” “What?” Mor demanded,

Mor, she's the protagonist. Of course she's going. Even if it makes absolutely no sense.

“Your choice, Feyre,” Rhys said casually.

Fucking bullshit. You've already volunteered her, jackass.

Anyway, there's some fuss about how scary dangerous it will be, but she ultimately agrees to go, and the chapter finally fucking finishes. Uggggghhhhh. Seriously, why are all the chapters in this book so damn long? This one and last one made up almost 10% of the page count just on their own. Ridiculous. But, I can only hope that means they get shorter from here, right? Right?

The fic is a Shrek AU, so I went for a sort of fairytale vibe on the interior to match the storybook opening of the Shrek movies. Only, while I was redrawing the storybook page openings (so that I had them in a higher resolution) I tweaked some details to better match the story/characters ;)

The challenge I faced with these lovely storybook pages however, was that the paper weight that I use was a touch too light and the illustrations showed through slightly on the reverse page. Which wouldn’t have been as much of a problem if the gold gilding pen that I purchased wasn’t oil based and didn’t bleed through to the back side of the page…

Sadly I didn’t have any higher weight paper on hand so change of plan involved tweaking my typeset so that each illustrated page had a blank backside to it. Then I tipped the edges of the pages together. And then I tore the faux deckled edges into the book. All of which had to be completed only after the text block was sewn, because some of the signature middles landed on those blank middle pages. 😭

Suffice to say the construction order of this book was one big puzzle that had me doing this the entire time

However! I am so, so pleased with the results! This was my first time attempting faux deckling like this, as well as my first time doing interior gilding! Also my first time doing a proper laminated dust jacket! (Which also had gilding woo!)

Speaking of, the design of the dust jacket is one I especially love! There’s a gorgon character within the story and another character that often mentions their beloved strawberry patch back home so it was only befitting that I combine the two for the cover! (Slightly stylized of course, and yes I know you wouldn’t be able to see the snake tails if they’re relating to a gorgon but hush.)

My one regret with this book that I didn’t catch in time (before I had already sent the dustjacket for printing), is that the spine text is the wrong direction 😭 Every book I almost make this mistake but catch it in time, and this was the one time I failed that. 😔 Alas.

But can we talk about how well those endband colors match the endpapers and cover???? 👀