Reader, after a Broadway-heavy weekend for me, what with the Tony Awards and all, it’s time to return to the world of literature with one of my favourite authors, Leigh Bardugo. That’s right it’s time to talk King of Scars, one of my most anticipated releases for 2019. I was super excited for this book, and it didn’t disappoint in any capacity.
Although this is the first book in a new duology, it features characters from Leigh’s two previous series so it is going to be impossible to talk about, even in summary, without spoiling something. So, I’m just going to put out the spoiler warning for all the works of Leigh Bardugo right now and then jump into the meat of the review.
So here it is: spoiler warning.
Ok, we all good now? So let’s get right to it.
Nikolai
Nikolai shut his eyes and did what the dark voice had told him to do. He let go of the perfect prince,the good king. He reached for all the wounded, shameful things he’d been so sure he had to hide. In this moment, he was not kind or merciful or just. He was a monster. He left his mortal body behind.
I’m going to start off right away and talk about Nikolai because he is my favourite character that Leigh has created by a lot (if you’ve been reading this blog for awhile, you know that, based on the sheer quantity of times I’ve talked about him). He was the main reason I was super looking forward to this book because I just love him so much, and I felt cheated by his ending in Ruin and Rising (how could Alina be presented with the perfection that is Nikolai and still choose Mal? Mal sucks. Even the Darkling is preferable to Mal and he’s slightly genocidal). Little did I know that the disatisfaction I felt with Ruin and Rising would open the door to all of the Nikolai goodness we get in this book. I adored Nikolai in this book, just completely adored him. He’s still got his wicked sense of humour and his wits; he’s still the too-clever fox. But getting inside his head really gives a better sense for his vulnerability, his pain, his grief, and his guilt. All the stuff that’s been haunting him since before the Civil War and especially because of the Civil War (getting turned into a monster will do that to you) are so much more poignant when you get to hear about it from him directly. And then you have his struggles with the monster which are so wrenching (at least they were for me), because we know so much about him now (again, this could be because Nikolai is precious to me, and it hurts me when anything causes him pain). And I can’t be the only person who was super frustrated when he revealed at the end that the monster wasn’t truly gone. Like what? We just went through all of that for nothing? Curse you, Leigh Bardugo, for putting him through so much pain and sacrifice for his country, and it still probably won’t be enough because now they’re at war with Fjerda. Gah, these books are depressing at times.
Zoya
As soon as the scales touched, sealing the bond, she felt Juris’ strength flow through her. But this was different than it had been with the tiger. Open the door. She could feel his past, the eons both he and the dragon had lived flooding through her, threatening to overwhelm the short speck of her life. Take it, then, she told him. I am strong enough to survive the fall. She felt Juris’ restraint, felt him draw back, protecting her and guiding her just as he had done over the past weeks. As he always would. The dragon was with her. And they would fight.
If there was ever a character who was crying out for a POV, it was Zoya. I mean, she was tough to really love in the original series because that was entirely from Alina’s perspective, who spent pretty much the entire time being super, incredibly jealous of her (over Mal, for some absurd reason. God, I hate Mal). Another reason is Zoya is a very guarded person, who refuses to pretend to be nice, which I respect, but which also makes her hard to love. So getting inside her head, and learning about her as the strong, independent badass who was almost sold in marriage at seven but broke away and became powerful despite her family was beautiful, and really gave me a new appreciation for the character. Basically, she’s a bitch and she doesn’t care who that offends. I respect her and I love her, and despite this being Nikolai’s book, it was her arc of accepting the depth of her power that really grabbed me and centered the final third or so of the book. Much as I adore Nikolai, Zoya was where the real emotion was. Speaking of Nikolai, I do really want to acknowledge how frustrating both him and Zoya are about their feelings towards each other. You want to be with him, he wants to be with you, so stop whining about it and just go be with each other! Come on! And now we have this absurd arranged marriage thing to contend with. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaagggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh. Leigh Bardugo just can’t make things simple for her ships, can she?
Nina
They would build a new world together. But first they had to burn the old one down.
I say the real emotion in this book was with Zoya, but really, it was with Nina. That was where the true heartbreak lies. Nina was already an awesome character and getting to spend more time with her was a delight, no matter how broken she is. Her attempts to recover both from Mal’s death and the jurda parem were beautifully crafted and just so sad. The way she kept hearing Mal’s voice in her head until she buried him and then suddenly realized he was completely gone was just so sad. That was probably the most moving part of the book to me. And just when you think flirty, hilarious Nina is gone forever in comes Jarl Brum’s daughter, Hanne, and hoo-boy, do the sparks fly! I am 100% behind this ship, I really love the way Nina helps Hanne come to terms with her identity as Grisha, and gives her the strength to fight against the institutional sexism in Fjerdan society. I’m all for fighting against institutional sexism as the starting place for a beautiful relationship, I am behind this ship. Also, and I can’t stress this enough, it would be a truly glorious thing if Nina manages to have caused both Jarl Brum’s favoured apprentice, I guess, and his daughter to fall in love with her, and abandon Fjerda. Can you imagine how incredibly pissed off he’s going to be when he finds out about that? It’s going to be awesome. On an unrelated to romance note about Nina, I adored her discovery of her new powers and the empowerment that came with that. The section where she allowed the voices of the dead to speak through her to Jarl Brum was probably the best part of the entire book.
Back at the Palace
His stand-in was pacing, talking rapidly. Nikolai couldn’t hear what he was saying, but to his great horror, it looked very much like a declaration of love. What was this pretender getting them into? And had Genya and David sanctioned such a thing? This was a moment for a well-timed interruption, but exactly how was Nikolai supposed to accomplish that without upending the whole charade? Maybe I’m wrong and they’re discussing matters of state, Nikolai thought hopefully.
I don’t have as much to say about this section as it was just goofy hijinks amidst all the intensity of the other characters, until suddenly it really wasn’t. That was a super abrupt turn it took at the end there. Before that point, it was funny and goofy, and great to see some secondary characters from Shadow and Bone through somebody else’s eyes, especially someone as completely out of his depth as Isaak. And then, boom, somebody’s getting murdered and princesses are really assassins and guards are really princesses. That was not how I thought this plot would go, but once again, Leigh Bardugo continues to surprise me.
Magical Worldbuilding
Woman after woman, girl after girl, they spoke their names, and Nina called them on. Come to me. Up through the earth, clawing through the soil, they came, a mass of rotting limbs and broken bones. And some of them crawled.
We all know Leigh Bardugo is an excellent wordbuilder, so I’m not going to rehash that here. Instead, I just want to say a few words about the way she keeps developing her magic system, which takes place in two different ways here. The first is with Zoya, and the realization that Grisha power doesn’t necessarily have to be divided into Orders. That could have huge implications for future books in this world because the divisions and elitism that arise from these divisions are a huge part of the original trilogy, and of Ravka prior to the Civil War. How all that is going to play out is definitely going to be fascinating. The second way it develops is through the invention of jurda parem which came from the Six of Crows duology. Nina’s changing and evolving powers and the experimentation on the pregnant drugged Grisha are all part of this and I don’t really think we got definitive answers on what all that means, so that’s got to be important next book too. It probably ties into the unification of Grisha power (I hope). I’m not sure but it’s certainly well-done and compelling, no matter where it goes in the next book.
The Ending
“So many of my old friends, gathered in one place,” said the Darkling from the mouth of a loyal, gullible boy, another fool who had loved him. “It’s good to be home.”
And then, that happens. What the heck was that? If it isn’t bad enough that there’s a cult rising up around glamorizing and idolizing the Darkling (which, now that I think about it, might be sly commentary on the way the fandom treats him. Well played, Leigh Bardugo), this stupid cult leader leads to the second coming of the actual Darkling. That’s not good! I mean, it’s good from a reading perspective because the Darkling is an excellent villain (if not one I find attractive), but for our characters, things are about to get intense. Once again, we appear to be up the creek without a paddle so I can’t wait to find out how Leigh is going to get us out of this one.
And there you have it, those are all my thoughts on King of Scars by Leigh Bardugo. It was awesome, I wept, I laughed, I loved. It’s a rollercoaster of emotions, and I want the next one. You guys should let me know in the comments what you thought of King of Scars, and I’ll see you on Saturday.
Until the next time.
The Phantom of the Bookshelf 