It was a long, cold walk from the parking area to the faerie mounds. The snow was knee-deep on me, and there was no way for my mortal body to wade through it in four-inch spike heels and a miniskirt. Not without breaking an ankle or getting frostbite. So I was carried, and the only one who wasn’t wet through was Barinthus. Everyone else’s clothes began to freeze in the icy wind, and those who had no magical protection against the elements shivered as we waded through the snow.Alternatively: CHANGE YOUR CLOTHES. Obviously you still have the clothes the publicist changed you out of. Put them back on. You will no longer have a problem.
Barinthus is keeping her warm. He has enough power to do this, because being a human/fae space heater is, apparently, hard. It takes several paragraphs to establish this.
Everyone is cold, my dear ones. Do you get it? THEY ARE COLD. DO YOU WANT ANOTHER FIVE PARAGRAPHS ABOUT HOW COLD IT IS IN JANUARY IN ST. LOUIS?
LAURELL: THIS IS NOT THE FUCKING NORTH POLE. THEY HAVE MAGIC. LET THEM DEAL.
It is established that people used to call Barinthus "Kingmaker", and then the chapter ends.
NOTHING FUCKING HAPPENS.
Next chapter: THEY ARE STILL WALKING IN THE FUCKING SNOW.
A random faerie guard gets an entire kindle page to describe his hair. Merry then bitches about how the pleats in the back of her skirt will never be perfect again.
I am fucking dying here.
I want something to blog about. Desperately. I want to go "HEY THIS SHIT IS COOL" or "OH MY GOD THIS SUCKS" but NOTHING IS HAPPENING. WE ARE TALKING ABOUT PLEATS IN A SKIRT. THIS IS IMPORTANT FOR SOME REASON.
“If the ring knows us”— and he finished the rest in an imitation of the queen’s voice good enough to raise the hair at the back of my neck—“ then fuck Meredith, fuck her as soon as you see her. If she gets picky then you may go to her room, or yours. I don’t care , just get the job done.”
I am now of the opinion that consent did something to LKH as a child.
It goes on to make it clear: If Merry won't willingly bed anybody the ring identifies as a fertile match, the men are to rape her.
I AM DEAD SERIOUS.
“Persuade her, or take her, or tell her what I have said, and let that be your persuasion. If Meredith will not take the pleasure I offer her, then perhaps she will take pain instead. For there is both to be had here among the Unseelie. Remind her of that if her sensibilities are too delicate for fucking.”So let's make it clear: Merry has no option to consent to sex at this point. She does not get the right to say no. Consent no longer exists.
I hate. This book. And this chapter isn't over yet.
“I am soaking wet, freezing, and sober. I don’t want to be any of those three things.
This would be such an awesome book if LKH were any less of a prude.
Finally somebody explains about the flooding bit, and that--not the rape, mind you, just the flooding--is enough to get everybody into the Queen's presence and end the goddamed chapter.
Something had better happen soon, otherwise my liver will never survive.