House of Flame and Shadow

“Sigrid let out a joyless laugh. Her eyes met Ithan’s, filled with nothing but hate, and then she faced Sigrid, Ithan’s dismissal clear. He was nothing and no one to her. Not even a wolf to acknowledge.”

Ithan’s lackluster opinion of himself is evident through the way he interprets this interaction with Sabine, the acting leader of the wolves. He accepts her dismissal as deserved, because he too sees himself as “nothing […] not even a wolf.” This is why he doesn’t consider himself a viable option for Prime Apparent, doubting his leadership potential.

“She had to get out of here. Before these people decided the risk she posed was too great, and dealt with her the smart way. Or before they decided they liked the sound of Midgard, of Rigelus, and knew she’d be a wonderful peace offering.”

Bryce distrusts the Night Court because she equates them with the oppressors of her own world. Bryce perceives her situation through the eyes of a potential conqueror, which guides what she reveals, to whom, and how.

“Ithan rolled his eyes, and the gesture was so normal, so friendly, that something in Tharion’s chest tightened. He’d thrown all this away, any shot at a normal life. And now his friends were here…seeing him like this. Tharion closed his eyes once more, this time because he couldn’t stand the sight of his friends.”

As Tharion’s story features more prominently, he goes from solitary mer with no close relationships, but finding belonging and brotherhood with Ithan, Declan, Flynn, and Ruhn. Their continued belief in him despite his recklessness and immaturity inspire Tharion to be a better person going forward.

“There was a moment, then, when Ithan and Sigrid looked at each other—when Tharion could have sworn some sort of battle of wills passed between them.”

This moment between Ithan and Sigrid is not merely a clash of personalities, but a battle of dominance between wolf Alphas. Though Ithan doesn’t yet recognize it, this passage foreshadows what’s to come for his character arc—he will become the leader of the wolves.

“The strange carvings had continued all the way here, showing great Fae battles and lovemaking and childbirth. Showing a masked queen, a crown upon her head, bearing instruments in her hand and standing before an adoring crowd. Behind her, a great mountaintop palace rose toward the sky, winged horses soaring among the clouds. No doubt some religious iconography of her divine right to rule.”

The artwork in the caves beneath the Night Court illustrates the story of Theia and her daughters. The pegasi surrounding Theia and her united Dread Trove are perceived by Bryce as a representation of her divine right to rule, which matches the arrogant notions of the Fae in Midgard who descend from her.

“She hadn’t commented on the lower half of the carving, which depicted a Helscape beneath their thrones, some kind of underworld. Humanoid figures writhed in pain amid what looked like icicles and snapping, scaly beasts—either past enemies conquered or an indication of what failure to bow to the rulers would bring upon the defiant.”

The artwork depicts evil underneath their feet, hinting at the sarcophagus-entombed Vesperus below. It also alludes to the dark truths the Fae’s false history: The lush, paradisiacal above world represents the idyllic mythos about the Fae known by the many, while the evil underworld is the real despicable crimes the oppressors have expertly covered up.

“Guilt was likely eating Athalar alive. Guilt that wasn’t his to bear—they’d all made choices that had landed them here.”

This passage is from Ruhn’s perspective, which illustrates how all-consuming Hunt’s guilt appears—Ruhn can see Hunt’s misery from the outside. The novel juxtaposes Ruhn’s more productive ability to share the burden of responsibility with Hunt’s maladaptive insistence on taking it all onto himself, showcasing the effect of Hunt’s past traumas.

“They passed by more carvings […] These were more peaceful: They showed small children playing. Time passing with trees blooming, then barren, then blooming again.”

Maas often uses foreshadowing to build suspense and create cliff hangers to engage readers. Here, cave art shows a cycle of growth and destruction, predicting what will happen when Bryce frees Theia’s power from its Avallen prison, allowing the island’s lush vegetation to rise once again.

“‘These reliefs tell a narrative, too, you know. […] I don’t need context. Art is a universal language.’

[…] Nesta nodded to the three dancing Fae figures above Bryce. ‘So what does that mean, then? If you don’t need the context.’

Bryce examined the relief. Took in the dancing, the stars, the idyllic islands in the background. And she said softly, ‘It means that there was once joy in this world.’

Silence. Then Nesta said, ‘That’s it?’

Bryce kept her eyes on the dancers, the stars, the lush lands. Ignored the darkness beneath. Focused on the good—always the good. ‘Isn’t that all that matters?’”

Bryce believes artwork tells a narrative that can be understood without need for language or context. When asked by Nesta to explain what she sees, Bryce points out that there was once joy in the world—no matter what evils lurk beneath. During the novel, Bryce temporarily loses sight of this belief and becomes cynical and unforgiving of the Fae of Midgard. In the end, however, remembering this truth is the key to saving her world and forging a better one.

“She found herself face-to-face with a scene depicting a great battlefield before the high walls of a city, […] Fae against Fae. It shouldn’t have bothered her. Shouldn’t have grabbed her as it did: the warrior-female’s merciless expression as she embedded her spear in the agonized face of the female soldier before her. […] She’d long ago understood that this kind of thing wasn’t beyond the Fae. She took comfort in knowing she wasn’t like them, would never be that way.”

This is the first explicit mention of Bryce’s emboldened cynicism concerning the Fae. However, beneath her professed resentment lurks her reserved hope for change. Seeing this depiction of Fae fighting Fae saddens her deeply and as angry as she is, she also yearns for the redemption of all races on Midgard.

“The last time he’d been in these dungeons, he’d had no visions of the future to cling to. Shahar had been dead, most of the Fallen with her, and all his dreams with them. But maybe this was worse. To have come so close to those dreams, to be able to see them so vividly, to know Bryce was out there…and he was not.”

Unlike the previous times Hunt has faced enslavement and been at the mercy of the Asteri, he has friends and family to worry about. These new stakes make Hunt more fearful than ever, posing as the greatest threat to his dedication to the rebellion.

“We found cities in Midgard carved by human hands. This world had been mostly populated by humans, and only a handful of unusual creatures that had kept mostly to themselves. It was a blank slate, as far as worlds went. […] Yet the humans were not pleased at our arrival. […] My mother had dealt with human uprisings before. She knew what to do. […] City to city, we moved. Taking the land as we wished. Taking human slaves to build for us. But some humans resisted, their city-states united as we Fae had once united against our masters.”

The Dehumanization of Oppression is depicted in Silene’s apathetic account of the Starborn Fae’s heinous treatment of the humans on Midgard. Despite expressing regret for her actions, Silene cannot really summon empathy for a species she clearly views as beneath her. The callous way in which she depicts Theia “dealing” with human uprisings and the world as a “blank slate” further dehumanizes the people whose civilizations they trampled over in their conquest.

“Mired in shame, Tharion watched the bloodbath unfold before him. He deserved to be here, in this place, with the Viper Queen. He didn’t deserve to be freed, to be fought for. […] Everything he touched turned to shit.”

Tharion’s character arc is still in its early phase. This passage builds upon his self-hatred and shame, as he doubts his ability to break free of his self-destructive patterns. This will later inspire him to make better decisions for his friends and the people of Lunathion, inspiring respect from those who formerly dismissed him.

“When this war was over, [Theia] promised [Silene and Helena], [they] would go to Hel with Aidas. Not to rule, but to live. When this was over, she promised, she would spend the rest of her existence atoning.”

The overarching theme throughout the entire series is Danika’s motto: Through Love, All is Possible. This motif is expressed here in the redemption Theia seeks after falling in love with her mate, Pelias. Her love for him inspires her to do better, conquer her greed for more power, and instead yearn for a contented life with her family.

“I hope that my life has been spent wisely. Atoning for my mother’s crimes and foolishness and love—and trying to make it right.”

Silene references the theme of Redemption for the Worthy which is central to characters who believe they must make up for past mistakes. The notion of inherited family burdens in particular is experienced by Bryce and Ruhn, who try to make right their family’s history of atrocities by killing the corrupt Fae kings of Midgard and remaking the ruling structures of their world to be equitable rather than oppressive.

“No pity or compassion stirred in Bryce. She didn’t buy Silene’s ‘for the common good’ bullshit. It had all been to cover her own ass, to make sure the Fae in this world never learned how close she and her mother and sister had come to damning them. How Silene and Helena had damned the Fae of Midgard, locking them out along with their children. […] So boo-fucking-hoo and to Hel with her atonement.”

Bryce scathingly critiques The Fallibility of History by refusing to accept Silene’s methods of atonement. In efforts to redeem their family, Silene did not inspire change, but rather covered up the true and unsavory events of history with rumors which became reverent myths. The false histories glorify false narratives instead of passing down factual knowledge the people of her home world can learn and evolve from.

“Holstrom said we’re a pack. […] I don’t necessarily appreciate the canine comparison, but I like the sentiment.”

Tharion references Ithan’s sentiment from earlier in the novel when speaking to the guilt-ridden Hunt. The passage illustrates the found family trope Maas often incorporates into her novels, which effectively heightens drama and tension while emotionally charging the narrative.

“I didn’t just learn about love from my mom. I learned about it from my dad, too. My true dad. My weak human dad who you’re so jealous of that you can’t stand it. He taught me to fight like Hel for the people I love.”

Bryce exhibits the beneficial effect of parental love. Unlike the Autumn King, who has been a cruel and apathetic father, Bryce’s human mother and stepfather have taught her the importance of love, which has inspired her to fight harder for change—something she’d never have the confidence or courage to do otherwise.

“The Fae dug their own graves. They can lie in them.”

Bryce’s lack of interest in ruling over the Fae with her objects of magical power and her dismissal of the Fae’s future illustrates her lack of faith in their ability to change. Bryce struggles to see how the Fae of Midgard could be good, especially when her own “blessed” bloodline committed the worst atrocities of all.

“Her bloodline […] An inheritance of cruelty and pain. She wished Danika were with her. If there was one person who might have understood the complexity of such a fucked-up inheritance, of having the future of a people weighing on her, it would have been Danika. Danika, who’d wanted more for this world, for Bryce. Light it up. But maybe the Fae and their bloodline didn’t deserve Bryce’s light. Maybe they deserved to fall forever into darkness.”

Once again, Bryce’s cynicism regarding the future of Midgard’s people prevents her from seeing the world with Danika’s optimism. Without hope for the possibility of a better future, Bryce cannot gather the drive necessary to defeat the Asteri.

“Maybe Urd had sent [the former rebel] to her, to remind her that her choices and sacrifices had, in fact, made some difference in the world. Even if they had gutted her. […] Here on this cheerless Fae island…here, at least, were some people who’d benefited from [her] impossible position.”

While Ruhn has already accepted Lidia’s efforts at atonement, Lidia does not yet believe she’s worthy of redemption. Lidia’s encounter with a rebel she saved while double-agenting as the Hind and Agent Daybright gives her the solace she needs to finally forgive her own actions.

“He had no choice but to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Maybe at some point, he’d stop leaving a trail of absolute destruction in his wake.”

Ithan has spent the novel making impulsive decisions, including a foolish deal with the Viper Queen that ends in Sigrid’s death and a rushed resurrection that turns her into a Reaper. This clumsy, accident-prone characterization provides an interesting template for the Prime Apparent he will become.

“While they’d all agreed on the plan together, if it failed, if Bryce or any of them died…No. He wouldn’t go down that road again. He’d made mistakes in the past, bad calls, but fighting against tyranny, against brutality, would never be the wrong choice.”

Hunt’s character is actualized when he conquers his fears and doubts to fully dedicate himself to defeating the Asteri and saving Bryce. Up until this point, he’s lived in fear of the consequences to himself and his loved ones, which have overshadowed the bigger picture—a better world for everyone and the moral obligation to fight for it.