A COURT OF MIST AND FURY, Sarah J. Maas

You think Maas is going to go through the whole color spectrum? First ACOTAR in red, then ACOMAF in blue—maybe green next time? Or yellow? Or purple? Ooh, if she’s going with the thesis-antithesis-synthesis model, then I’m predicting purple. Hegelian dialectic, bitches!

What the heck am I talking about? Just how A Court of Mist and Fury basically flips so many things from A Court of Thorns and Roses 180 degrees! Some fans of the first book will like it; others will hate it with all the passion that only shippers can feel. My disclaimer for this review may put off Tamlin/Feyre lovers (do they have an official name? Tumblr, enlighten me!), but I must be honest: I liked Feyre and Tamlin in as much that he made her happy, or at least could be romantic with her to a nauseating degree. He brought light and love into her life—so it’s a shame their relationship takes a bleak turn that only worsens over the course of the book, for various reasons.

On the other hand, I never got invested enough that it broke my heart to watch them part ways. My interest lies in watching Feyre recover from her trauma and realize all her strength, both emotionally and physically. Maas makes it clear that staying with Tamlin is not the way to achieve that. Even while Feyre struggles with guilt and heartbreak over leaving him, there’s next to no ambiguity that, in the end, it’s the healthiest course of action for her. But where doing so leads her, Tamlin and Rhysand—whew! I never expected Maas to take her characters that far, and I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified.

So, what exactly goes wrong with these two? Aren’t they supposed to be True Love? Aren’t they supposed to have a happily ever after? If not, what the hell was all the suffering from the first book for? The last few questions are legitimate concerns for fans, and in all fairness, there’s no easy answer. Maas tries to give us a few answers, but since we have yet another book to get through after this one, I wager she’s leaving some things unresolved. Just to start, we do know why Feyre and Tamlin have problems, and Maas elucidates the reason through plenty of Feyre’s internal monologue. It would’ve been nice to humanize Tamlin a bit more by letting us see some of his interiority, too, or watch how he responds to the situation as he and Feyre become more removed from each other. That said, Feyre affords the narrative several moments of sympathy and attempts at empathy for Tamlin.

Let’s take it from the top: in the opening chapter, Feyre wakes up from a nightmare involving the fairies she killed as per Amarantha’s deal (SPOILERS for the first book, obviously), then proceeds to spew her guts out. Apparently this has been happening almost every night since returning from Under the Mountain—and no one is raising concern about it. Not even Tamlin, who has been sleeping with her at this point. Feyre wonders, or suspects, that Tamlin is in fact aware of her PTSD symptoms. Perhaps he thinks he’ll best help her by . . . ignoring them. Ah, a most promising start.

All right, we quickly grasp that Tamlin isn’t equipped to help someone dealing with trauma, even as he grapples with his own. This isn’t entirely his fault—many people aren’t sure what the best approach is to give comfort or healing to a loved one who’s been through a horrible experience. That said, Feyre’s well-being continues to fray bit by bit even while Tamlin and his new priestess friend, Ianthe, plan the wedding. Yeah, you might want to consider putting the wedding off for a little while, much as you two love each other. But no, the stability of Prythian apparently depends on Tamlin and Feyre marrying as soon as possible, to show that Amarantha’s reign is over. The situation progresses from uncomfortable to distressing; Feyre can’t talk to Tamlin or Ianthe or anybody about what she’s feeling, including her massive guilt over killing a couple innocent people, which makes her feel unworthy of a happy ending with Tamlin. It comes to a head on her wedding day as she walks to the altar—she can’t go through with it. Yet before Feyre can pull off a Julia Roberts, Rhysand sweeps in his all his shady, snarky glory and calls in on his bargain with her: one week out of the month at his Night Court in exchange for helping her pass Amarantha’s tests. Dick move, bro. That’s putting it mildly for Tamlin, who’s ready to tear off each of Rhysand’s limbs, but a bargain is a bargain. Feyre has to uphold her end.

And thus begins probably one of the strangest courtships I’ve read that I’m actually okay with, mostly. Rhysand isn’t really courting her, anyway. Most of their early interactions focus on his inappropriate flirtations to rile up Feyre. Serious or not, they help Feyre use anger and annoyance to push through the numbness of her trauma that threatens to swallow her whole. The more time she spends with him, the more alive (if irritated) she feels, whereas every return to Tamlin reminders her just how draining it is living at the Spring Court now.

That’s the other half of it: not only is nobody trying to help Feyre cope, but Tamlin insists that she stay in on the estate under surveillance. It doesn’t matter that she’s starting to exhibit a disturbing set of powers—namely, all the powers of the other High Lords, Tamlin’s and Rhysand’s included. No big deal, Tamlin reasons. Well, it is a big deal, but he’s convinced that her learning to control her powers will draw too much attention and make people think they’re preparing for another war. In her withering state, Feyre goes along with this feeble excuse, only to later on realize how idiotic it was to not challenge this decision. But Maas cleverly keeps it vague just how much Tamlin is aware or intentionally shutting out Feyre by his own choice—is Ianthe whispering sweet advice about how to best handle his frazzled fiancée? Perhaps, but he’s still responsible for his actions, so in the scene where he seals off the house to prevent Feyre from leaving, that’s all on him, down to her emotional and magical meltdown.

A timely friend of Rhysand’s, Morrigan, retrieves Feyre before the latter can accidentally destroy the house. From then on, Feyre spends the book with Rhysand and learns the complex life he leads. Whereas Tamlin follows the “brusque but well-meaning” type of love interest, Rhysand falls in the “obvious jerk is secretly a noble soul who pretends to be a jerk for the Greater Good” category. To her credit, Maas utilizes this type well enough to flesh out Rhysand into a compelling character, as well as a sympathetic one. He’s also supported by a first mysterious, then eventually humorous but traumatized circle of trusted friends. Through them, Feyre and the readers learn about the Night Court and the relationships among the High Fae and lesser fairies, such as the Illyrians, who do in fact have wings—bat-like wings. Hey, there are in the Night Court. Rhys himself is half-Illyrian, so he’s both aware of his privilege as a High Fae and understands the brutal experience of his lower-class subjects. To me, the most appealing thing about Rhys is that he’s not a stick in the mud or overly sappy, as I feel many love interests in romance stories tend to veer. He’s frequently making jokes, usually to pique Feyre, so their interactions have this constant back-and-forth that gives character-focused scenes momentum and keep a personal spark in plot-driven sections.

While there’s lots of ink devoted to character development, an epic quest plot does kick in sometimes that can come across as jarring in the midst of Rhys and Feyre’s banter and bonding. Turns out Tamlin’s paranoia about avoiding another war is all in vain—there is a war coming, whether he likes it or not. Granted, only Rhys is aware of the extent of the next villain’s plot. The impending danger to both Prythian and the human realms pushes Feyre to come to grips with her plethora of crazy powers—one minute she’s shooting fire, next she’s sprouting Tamlin’s claws and Rhys’ wings—and how she may be the only one who can stop the weapon instrumental to this crisis. Whereas in ACOTAR Feyre had to figure out who Amarantha was and her sway over Prythian, particularly Tamlin, she’s mostly informed about everything Rhys knows about this new danger, so she can make informed decisions. It only makes sense that, now as a High Fae and not a fragile human, she can do a lot more to help, not to mention defend herself from other hostile fairies. As this might suggest, there’s action and thrills as well as romance to enjoy.

I’m still wary about recommending this book to readers who were hoping for a fairytale HEA (Happily Ever After) for Feyre with Tamlin or Rhysand. Best case scenario, the next book will give Tamlin a redemption arc. I doubt Feyre will truly flip-flop between him and Rhys now that, well, certain things are established by the book’s end. I did warn Maas about unnecessary love triangles in my ACOTAR review (advice I’m sure she got to see) simply because love triangles can be predictable, frustrating, contrived, and void of true character development. The three-way relationship in Maas’ trilogy could promise more, which I hope it delivers, but fans of Feyre and Tamlin’s love story might already be turned off. My recommendation would be to stay tuned for A Court of Something and Something No. 3 to see if it’s worth the heartache. For Rhys/Feyre shippers—still be cautious, but enjoy this book in all its slow-burn glory.

Rating: 3.5/5