logo

81 pages 2 hours read

Sarah J. Maas

A Court of Wings and Ruin

Fiction | Novel | YA | Published in 2017

A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.

Themes

The Compromises and Moral Ambiguity of War

Content Warning: This section discusses sexual assault.

The struggle between good and evil is a quintessential theme in high fantasy, and Maas emphasizes the “struggle” in her exploration of the compromises war asks characters to make, sometimes in direct conflict with their values. Throughout the series, Feyre struggles with the need to perform violent acts in self-defense or the defense of others, and confrontation with the exact kind of brutality she fought to prevent manifests in an out-of-body experience for Feyre. Returning to her own mind after committing mass slaughter and witnessing Rhys destroy entire ships in Adriata, Feyre “[tries] to remember the usual fit of [her] soul in [her] body, the priority of things, [her] way of looking at the world” (367). The extreme violence in the name of justice upends Feyre’s sense of right and wrong and leads to an ethical dilemma for all of the novel’s characters as they discover the boundaries of what they will do for victory and how to ensure that victory is a righteous one.

Cassian pithily expresses the moral quandary of justifiable violence when he tells Feyre, “[T]his is war. We don’t have the luxury of good ideas—only picking between the bad ones” (234), and no avenue the Night Court pursues is without compromise. Rhys’s alliance with Keir and Eris betrays Mor’s trust; Feyre’s bargains with the Bone Carver and Bryaxis are extremely risky; securing Tamlin’s help later means trusting someone who hurt Feyre deeply, and even winnowing humans to safety costs a tremendous amount of power that the Prythian alliance can’t afford to spare. Maas portrays these compromises as unavoidable, and the difficulty of the decision correlates to the degree of ethical murkiness.

Maas also explores how espionage exacerbates the moral ambiguity of war by further complicating the characters’ ability to trust each other and their own determinations. Upon learning that Jurian is a double agent, Morrigan notes, “It’s so much harder […] When enemies turn into friends. And the opposite, I suppose. What didn’t I see? What did I overlook or dismiss? It always makes me reassess myself more than them” (504). Not knowing who is an ally or an enemy raises the dramatic stakes of every decision, as characters must make choices without understanding their full ramifications. Maas shows the effects of this through Feyre’s misguided sabotage of Tamlin’s court, which ultimately helps Hybern. The question she leaves unanswered—but poses through Mor’s speech above—is whether it was Feyre’s responsibility to recognize Tamlin’s secret plans or Tamlin’s responsibility to communicate them to Feyre. The difficulty in both cases is that openness and honesty leave them vulnerable to the enemy’s own spies.

By contrast, it is only by revealing their true natures—Rhys’s compassion, Nesta’s sense of justice, Feyre’s power—that the Night Court is able to secure the Prythian alliance against Hybern. With their success at the council, Maas posits that the only way to navigate moral ambiguity is through the unequivocal statement of values: This allows the like-minded defenders of freedom and compassion to find each other and band together against the forces of evil.

The Importance of Consent and Bodily Autonomy to Identity

Consent is a fraught topic in the romance genre, and in historical and fantasy romance in particular, where popular tropes like the damsel-in-distress utilize patriarchal power dynamics to create sexual tension. Historical and fantasy romances also frequently portray the “ravishing” fantasy, in which an ambivalent or reluctant woman is seduced or liberated by a sexually aggressive male partner. Sometimes, Maas participates in this tradition: Rhys is described as having a “predatory hunger” for Feyre (138). At other times, Maas resists it: Feyre trusts Rhys because “[h]e’d shove down his need for [her] […] if that was what [she] wanted […] It had always been [her] choice with him” (132). Acknowledging that the medieval-inspired political and magical hierarchies of Prythian enable High Lords, High Priestesses, and other powerful High Fae to commit acts that undermine the bodily autonomy of others, Maas explores how violations of bodily autonomy shape a survivor’s identity, both through sexual and non-sexual assault.

Maas characterizes any violation of bodily autonomy as a disruptive force to identity. Nesta and Elain lose their home, their culture, and the futures they imagined for themselves when they are unwillingly transformed; they struggle to transition to life as High Fae because it was not their choice to do so. Similarly, Lucien fears and resents how Ianthe’s sexual coercion on the basis of her rights as High Priestess disrespects both his individual agency and his mating bond with Elain. Most of Maas’s characters feature similar abuses in their backstories: Azriel was neglected and physically harmed as a child, and Tamlin’s bodily autonomy was limited by Amarantha’s curse. In each case, the traumatic loss of agency motivates some future aspect of the character’s identity: Azriel is kind, and Tamlin becomes overprotective of others.

Maas suggests that regaining a sense of control after these violations becomes essential to healing. Nesta’s mood and confidence improve when she starts advocating for others, and Rhys, who also lost his bodily autonomy to Amarantha, offers sanctuary to priestesses with similar experiences. Morrigan, who was brutalized by her family for exercising her sexual agency, articulates this dynamic when she tells Feyre, “I will never be happy about any of these terms, but…My father wins, Eris wins, all the males like them win if I let it […] impact my joy, my life” (295). Though Rhys’s alliance with her past tormentors hurts Mor deeply, she focuses on the aspects she can control, maintaining a stable sense of self through the re-assertion of her individual values. Through Mor, Maas suggests that survivors are not defined by the violation they experience, but by the choices they go on to make for themselves.

Love as Sacrifice, Forgiveness, and Self-Acceptance

Maas portrays three essential, scaffolded aspects of romantic and platonic love in the novel: love as sacrifice, love as forgiveness, and self-love.

Maas characterizes sacrifice specifically as the ability to put the needs of others before your own and portrays this sacrifice as the most fundamental expression of love. Most characters in the novel experience a moment in which they either find their bravery and endanger themselves to help others or they actively place their own needs second to another’s. Unable to love Elain as he wants to, Lucien sacrifices being close to her as an act of love; it gives her the space she needs while contributing to the war effort that will ensure her safety. However, Maas also suggests that the tendency toward self-sacrifice can be harmful; Rhys’s refusal to delegate out of concern for his friends ultimately makes them feel untrusted and unable to love him equally in return, as Cassian explains to Feyre in Chapter 19. Feyre, similarly, is extremely willing to put herself in danger before asking for help: She takes the most precarious position in the library with Nesta, risks spying alone in the Spring Court, and frequently pushes herself to exhaustion for the good of others.

Several characters specifically sacrifice vengeance out of love for their friends, such as Mor tolerating the alliance with Keir and Eris or Rhys’s begrudging trust of Tamlin’s loyalties. Maas suggests that Feyre’s tendency toward vengeance makes it difficult for her to forgive, which ultimately prolongs rather than alleviates her feelings of hurt. Her inability to forgive Tamlin complicates her ability to enjoy her new romance and leaves her vulnerable to Tamlin’s taunting at the council. After, Feyre calls the past “tangled and snarled” (462), indicating her difficulty in moving on. A similar inability to forgive prevents healing and undermines the experience of love for many characters in the novel, from the central relationships to side characters like Miryam, Drakon, and Jurian, whose mutual feelings of betrayal have remained unresolved for centuries. After 500 years of physical and emotional torment because of what happened, Jurian claims only to “want to beg their forgiveness” (496); writing immortal characters who tend toward grudges over reconciliation, even through millennia, Maas posits that true wisdom is knowing that vengeance and love cannot coexist.

Only after facing the Ouroboros mirror does Feyre’s new self-acceptance allow her to know which sacrifices are and aren’t appropriate, find the strength to forgive, and save everything and everyone she loves. The experience of self-acceptance is so profound that Feyre struggles to articulate it, telling Rhys, “[W]hat I saw […] I think—I think I loved it. Forgave it—me. All of it” (618). She enters the final battle with total confidence, ready to fight alongside her loved ones, not just lay down her own life for them. After, Feyre is able to extend compassion to Tamlin, wishing him happiness in return. To Maas, all other loves flow from the ability to first love oneself.

blurred text
blurred text
blurred text
blurred text