The Hero and the Crown

“[Galanna] is too stupid to recognize the difference between that sort of love and the love of a friend who depends on the particular friendship—or a farmer’s son’s love for his pet chicken.”

Aerin’s perspective on romance changes throughout the book, but she is not unaware of Tor’s growing affection for her; she simply views his affection as explicitly platonic and does not realize the depths of his true feelings. Aerin’s self-deprecating statement ties her dismissive interpretation of his affection to her stunted sense of self-worth, for she is knowingly casting herself in the role of the “pet chicken.” However, the passage also points out that Galanna’s view of the world is just as limited. Aerin cannot interpret the situation romantically in part because she has a low view of herself, while Galanna cannot interpret them otherwise because she values herself so very highly.

“He tried to remind her of the stories of the surka; he said did she remember by chance that the stuff was dangerous even to those of the royal house? True, it did not kill them; true, a leaf of it bestowed superhuman strength and the far-seeing eyes of a bird of prey to one of royal blood, or if the Gift were strong enough, true visions; although this last was very rare. But when the effect wore off, in several hours or several days, the aftereffects were at best mortal exhaustion and blurred sight—sometimes permanent.”

The reality of disability lurks behind many actions and world-building choices in the novel. Attempting to achieve feats beyond the realm of normal human capacity—whether by eating a toxic plant, slaying a dragon, or defeating an ancient mage—always leaves people with a permanent, bodily effect. Although the novel insists that these things must be done, Tor’s early reminder establishes that every choice Aerin makes will have a life-changing consequence that she must learn to navigate.

“But there was no glamour in dragon-hunting. It was hard, tricky, grim work, and dragons were vermin. The folk of the hunt, the thotar, who ran the king’s dogs and provided meat for the royal household, would have nothing to do with dragons, and dogs once used for dragons were considered worthless for anything else.”

Aerin’s choice to take up dragon-hunting might initially seem like an attempt at glory, but the novel quickly establishes that the opposite is true. Aerin’s determination to do what needs to be done regardless of the optics establishes her as a worthy heir. She must learn to look past the opinions of others and pursue the good of her kingdom, and her outlook is symbolized by her willingness to do the dirty work of slaying pests on behalf of her country.

“She was growing like a weed; her seventeenth birthday had come and gone, with the tiresome pomp necessary to a king’s daughter, and the stiff courtesy inspired by an unsatisfactory king’s daughter, and she was far too old to be suddenly growing taller. Not that she minded towering over Galanna; Galanna’s perfect profile, when seen from above, seemed to beetle slightly at the brows and narrow slightly around the eyes. Aerin also had hopes that she would outgrow the revolting Kisha and be given a real horse.”

While Aerin’s womanhood is a recurrent and important theme, this passage establishes her as embodying traditionally “masculine” traits, blurring the arbitrary boundaries of gender. Even her descriptions are designed to isolate her from the rest of the household, for she considers herself to be an “unsatisfactory” daughter and grows tall at a strangely late age, defying all expectations of “femininity.” While her yearning for a warhorse is easily interpreted as a simple wish for equality with the men in the eyes of her father, these parts of the passage create an image of Aerin that transcends gender, and this broader understanding of her character is further reflected in her emotional growth as she learns to live with her mother’s fabled disappointment at birthing a daughter.

“The rumor began that day, for the people at the wedding feast passed it among themselves, and took it home with them afterward, that the first sola was in love with the king’s daughter; and that the witch’s daughter would entrap the next king of Damar as her mother had entrapped her father; and a little breath of fear was reawakened—for Aerin’s Giftlessness had been reassuring—and accompanied the rumor.”

Much of the tension in the kingdom of Damar comes from rumors and whispers; this passage neatly establishes the fact that Aerin must endure a constant background of mistrust and dislike. Significantly, Aerin gains value in the eyes of the people when she is powerless, but when they are forced to acknowledge her or when she inadvertently shows her greater importance or power over others, she is viewed with suspicion. Aerin’s character growth is therefore designed to overcome and silence these rumors by rendering them irrelevant.

“[Aerin] was dreamily staring into space; she was even wearing a slight smile. Could she have fallen in love? Teka wondered. Who? Thorped’s son—what was his name? Surely not. He was half a head shorter than she and wispy.”

Teka’s misinterpretation of Aerin’s emotional state, which is brought on by her discovery of the secret of kenet, is designed to have a comical effect on the narrative. However, it also establishes a key contrast with later portions of the novel. When Aerin will eventually fall in love twice over, both with Tor and with Luthe, she is intensely focused on her own goals in this particular moment, not on thoughts of romance. Her response to love is therefore more stereotypical of a contemporary male fantasy protagonist or even a medieval knight, for rather than losing herself in romance, she uses her love as a token of strength and motivation to continue her fight, and she never allows her love for another to overcome her sense of self.

“In a bleaker moment it had occurred to [Perlith] that Aerin probably wouldn’t like being flirted with, and that his notorious charm of manner (when he cared to use it) might have had no effect on her whatsoever. He had banished the thought immediately, and his well-trained self-esteem had buried it forever.”

The narrative’s wry tone captures Perlith’s cunning personality and approach to the world, as well as his inherent hypocrisy. Perlith values things he can control and promptly quashes and ignores anything he cannot. Because he knows that he cannot use his usual charms against Aerin, he therefore finds other ways to attempt to overpower her, like engineering a moment of public embarrassment. This dynamic also establishes Aerin as being separated from the gendered political and interpersonal dynamics of the court. While Perlith believes that most women are susceptible to his charm, Aerin resists this stereotyping, and her inherent strengths unwittingly alienate her from the societal expectations of her gender.

“His face lit up when he saw her, and she made an embarrassed mental note to seek him out more often; he was not a man who had ever been able to enter into a child’s games, but she might have noticed before this how wistfully he looked at her. But for perhaps the first time she was recognizing that wistfulness for what it was, the awkwardness of a father’s love for a daughter he doesn’t know how to talk to, not shame for what Aerin was, or could or could not do.”

Aerin and her father, Arlbeth, are portrayed as having a realistic relationship that is both loving and distant. This passage also demonstrates how Aerin’s perception of herself damages—and heals—her relationships. Just as she cannot interpret Tor’s feelings as romantic due to her lack of self-worth, it takes years for her to understand that her father is not ashamed of her. Aerin’s battle is not just physical, for to find connection with others, she must improve her self-esteem.

“A girl only a few years older than the boy stepped up to catch Aerin’s eye, and said clearly, ‘We thank you.’ Aerin smiled and said, ‘The honor is mine.’ The girl grew to adulthood remembering the first sol’s smile, and her seat on her proud white horse.”

This passage succinctly establishes the importance of Aerin’s role as both a woman and a warrior. While Aerin does transcend traditional gender roles, this passage establishes that such an approach is necessary to broaden the possibilities for all women. This passage shows that Aerin can inspire others to define their own identities, for even if the girl she smiles at does not become a knight, Aerin’s unique power remains with her as a beacon of hope and possibility.

“And the small villages came to love her, and they called her Aerin Fire-hair, and were kind to her, and not only respectful; and even she, wary as she was of all kindness, stopped believing that the headmen asked priests to drive out the aura of the witchwoman’s daughter after she left them.”

Key to Aerin’s character development is the changing perception of the common people. While the nobility refuses to accept her until the conclusion of the novel, the love and acceptance of commoners helps Aerin to build new confidence in herself. It is additionally important that they call her “fire-hair,” for whenever Teka uses this description, Aerin always insists that her hair is orange, denying the implicit power of fiery imagery in association with herself. When the people confer this epithet upon her, it represents her growing self-confidence and shows that the common people recognize her value and power even if the court does not.

“She hadn’t had time to figure out how seriously hurt she was, so she picked herself up and flung herself at the dragon’s nose at it bowed its head to nuzzle them, or swallow them, or whatever it had planned; and she found out too late that the ankle that had been caught under Talat was broken, and her left arm so withered by the fire that it could not obey her; but somehow still she had grabbed Maur’s nostrils, and as it yanked its head up she held on grimly with one hand and one foot, and perhaps with her teeth.”

The language of this passage establishes Aerin’s physicality and grit. The wry metaphorical image of grabbing onto Maur with her teeth indicates her intense stubbornness and refusal to surrender, even in the face of almost certain death. The entire fight wavers between superhuman feats and human resilience, emphasizing the unification of Aerin’s key traits to bring her to a victory over Maur, however brutal and traumatic it proves to be.

“She slept, or fainted again, often, drifting back and forth across the boundary of selfhood; it was no longer only oblivion that those periods of blankness brought her, but the beginning of healing.”

The phrase “drifting back and forth across the boundary of selfhood” helps contextualize the fight against Maur as the moment of change in Aerin’s journey. She is both establishing herself and losing herself in the days after the battle; her appearance changes and she loses much of her strength, and defeating Maur opens her up to a more explicit internal struggle with her flaws and identity. This passage sets up the “map” for the rest of the book—while she might be healing physically, her internal, personal healing takes the rest of the novel to complete.

“I am the shape of their fear, it said, for you dared to slay me. I am the shape of their fear, the thing said. But I am lame and crippled from our meeting, she replied; I am human like them, for I was sorely wounded.”

This passage occurs when Aerin and the skull of Maur are locked in an intense—and possibly imagined—debate as she becomes convinced that defeating Maur is a sign of her otherworldly nature. Aerin uses her disabled state after the battle as a defense for her humanity, but this does not answer her issue of self-worth; she is questioning not her physical value, but her internal value. At this point, Aerin’s physical body, turned unrecognizable after the battle, is no longer the obstacle to her eventual self-actualization.

“Near dawn she dreamed of the tall blond man she had seen once before, while she slept in the dragon’s valley. He did not speak to her, nor did he seem to know she watched him. Perhaps he is only a dream, her dreaming self thought; but she looked at the way his blond eyelashes caught the sunlight, at the freckles on the backs of his hands, at the way the little fingers curled under the base of the cup he held, at the steam that rose from the cup. He blinked when it wafted into his eyes.”

Aerin uses extremely specific imagery to describe Luthe and characterize her early interest in him. However, the imagery she uses is not necessarily typical of a female protagonist’s view of her male love interest; instead, it characterizes Luthe as delicate and beautiful, traits that might have been applied to female love interests in fantasy novels common at the time of publication. This stylistic choice once again plays with gender expectations, establishing Aerin and Luthe’s dynamic as being distinctly different from the stereotypical romances depicted in high fantasy novels.

“Then she looked again at her left hand and arm, and she thought calmly, That is not my hand; this one is smaller, and the fingers are more delicate than ever mine were. She withdrew the hand, and put it to her head, and pulled a wisp of her hair free, and held it before her eyes. It was the color it had used to be, before Maur burned it, but the hairs of it were finer.”

In this dream-infused passage, Aerin briefly inhabits the body of her mother and notices the physical differences between them. Aerin makes no value judgment about the differences between their bodies; she is neutrally aware of them, which differs from her earlier view of herself. This moment represents an important moment of change and growth. Aerin is becoming more than mortal, and to do so, she must accept her similarity to her mother, who was a sorceress, if not a witch.

“‘I know by my own blood that I cannot defeat [Agsded]; though by some of that blood I have held him off these many years longer, that the chosen hero, the hero of his blood, might grow up to face him; for only one of his blood may defeat him.’ Luthe closed his eyes. ‘It is true your mother wanted a son; she believed that as only one of his blood might defeat him, so only one of his own sex might, for to such she ascribed her own failure.’”

The memory of Aerin’s mother frequently haunts the narrative, and this passage reveals the thematic reason for this pattern: the issue of gender and the devaluing of women. The internalized misogyny of Aerin’s mother—epitomized by the moment in which she died in despair upon birthing a girl—damages Aerin’s sense of self-worth. Aerin grows up believing that she is less valuable because she is like her mother. Her decision to face Agsded represents her simultaneous acceptance of and triumph over this inheritance, for in her final battle, she proves her worth and therefore proves her mother’s fatal assumption to be wrong.

“She stared fixedly at the open neck of his tunic so she need not see how the young spring sunlight danced in his hair; but she found herself watching a rapid little pulse beating in the hollow of his throat, and so she shifted her attention to his left shoulder. ‘Good-bye,’ she said. ‘Thanks. Um.’”

This is the first passage that truly demonstrates how Aerin acts when she is in love, comically showing her as awkward and blunt. The scene additionally provides more description for Luthe, which builds contrast between him and Tor. Tor is almost never physically described, and Aerin is rather confident around him.

“Your father is kind—why should he not be? You have never been any trouble—you have never demanded your rightful place as his daughter and his only child; and lately you have been of some small use, slaying dragons, so that he need not send out his valuable men on so inglorious a task. You have kept to the shadows, and he has let you stay there, and has done nothing to deny his people’s voices when they whisper, witchwoman’s daughter.”

Agsded’s words in this passage call attention to Aerin’s deep insecurities about her relationship with her father, insisting that his love for her is predicated on her ability to avoid taking up space. The language in this passage enforces the misogyny that Aerin has been resisting, implying that she is less valuable than the knights. This passage functions as the emotional climax of the novel, forcing Aerin to fully come to terms with her psychological battle even as she fights a physical one.

“But the thing that had held her, the dream that had drawn her on, was the Hero’s Crown. It had nothing to do with her own blood and birthright as her mother’s daughter, nothing of personal vengeance; it was the idea of bringing the Crown back to her City, of presenting it to Arlbeth and Tor.”

Just as her love for Luthe enables her to overcome Agsded’s lies, Aerin’s desire for the respect of her father and Tor drives her to victory against her uncle. This passage supports the theme of finding belonging within the family, but it also shows a darker side of Aerin’s psychology, for she earnestly believes that should she return without the Crown, her family will reject her and lose respect for her.

“‘I love you,’ said Luthe. ‘I will love you till the stars crumble, which is a less idle threat than is usual to lovers on parting. Go quickly, for truly I cannot bear this.’ She closed her legs violently around the nervous Talat, and he leaped into a gallop. Long after Aerin was out of sight, Luthe lay full length upon the ground, and pressed his ear to it, and listened to Talat’s hoofbeats carrying Aerin farther and farther away.”

Aerin and Luthe’s relationship shares similarities with medieval stories of courtly love, for their connection is necessarily forced into the shadows for duty’s sake. Additionally, their romance retains the immortal elements common to modern fantasy. The image of the dignified Luthe lying on the ground to listen to Talat’s hoofbeats illustrates his powerful devotion to Aerin, which borders on worship.

“Tor looked up again; Aerin was quite near now, and then she was beside him, banging her calf painfully against his stirrup as Talat pranced and pretended to be taller. She yanked his arm down, pried his fingers loose from his sword hilt, shook the Crown free; pulled his head down toward her and jammed the Crown over his temples.”

Aerin’s rejection of full power over Damar is almost violent in its intensity. Rather than choosing to wear the crown herself, even though such an action would have been easier than trying to communicate with Tor, she insists on giving responsibility to him. The force in this passage contrasts heavily with Aerin’s gentle interactions with Luthe, illustrating the difference in their relationships. Still, giving the crown to Tor is a sign of her immense trust in him.

“Galanna was conscious that her hair needed washing, that her gown was torn and soiled—that her hands would be trembling were it not for the weight of the bowl she carried; that someone had just told her that Perlith was dead, that his horse had returned with a bloodstained saddle. She tried to think about this, but her mind would revert to her hair, for her scalp itched; and then she thought, I will not see my husband again, it does not matter if my hair is clean or not. I do not care if my hair is ever clean again.”

This passage provides a powerful image of Galanna’s love for Perlith, however convoluted it might have been during their lives together. Since Galanna has been characterized as being primarily devoted to her physical appearance, the fact that she no longer cares whether her hair is clean epitomizes the change in her personality upon losing Perlith.

“It had not been only her doom and her duty that had brought her back to the City, and to Tor, for she loved Damar, and she loved its new king, and a part of her that belonged to nothing and no one else belonged to him. She had misunderstood what her fate truly was a few days ago, as she rode to the city to deliver up the Crown into the king’s hands; it was not that she left what she loved to go where she must, but that her destiny, like her love, like her heritage, was double.”

This passage uses repetition and parallelism to enforce the fact that Aerin’s character resists simplification. Unlike her mother, who was so drained of life that she could not even find the strength of will to love her daughter, Aerin is capable of loving many things: Tor, Luthe, her father, Talat, and her fellow countrymen. Ultimately, her love of her kingdom transcends time and knows no bounds.