King of Scars Full Duology Review
King of Scars (Full Duology) by Leigh Bardugo
Book One: King of Scars
The final installment in Leigh Bardugo’s grishaverse, the King of Scars duology, comes across to me as the quintessential “love it or hate it” edition to her universe. Die hard fans if the Grishaverse are going to love it. More casual fans might feel more like I did jumping into this duology, which is that it’s pretty much a mixed bag of things I really liked and things I really, really did not like.
Starting with things I liked:
The actual mechanics of the writing. Bardugo’s skills in writing prose have improved exponentially since the original Shadow and Bone trilogy. The actual writing of King of Scars is just much more practiced and mature. It’s less bumpy, more likely to appeal to an older demographic than the Shadow and Bone trilogy.
I also really enjoy that this duology takes both existing pieces of the established Grishaverse, Shadow and Bone and Six of Crows, and finally puts the two storylines together. Our viewpoint characters, Nikolai, Zoya, and Nina, are all excellent choices and characters that I’m big fans of.
There’s some feminist undertones going on with the story that I enjoy too. Zoya finally gets developed as a character much deeper than the stereotypical mean girl that she was portrayed as being in the first trilogy, and I actually vibed with her budding romance with Nikolai Lantsov a lot more than I thought I would.
Nina’s story carries feminist undertones as well. The plot involving her finding the Fjerdan women being held in the warehouse feels like a dark fantasy Handmaid’s Tale, and her scenes in which she helped Hanne learn to embrace themselves*** instead of conforming to what her parents wanted them to be.
***Hanne is indicated with she/her pronouns for the majority of the duology, but the character takes a masculine form later in the duology. It is never stated specifically what pronouns Hanne prefers directly in the novel. This review uses they/them pronouns for consistency, clarity, and the underlying implications of gender fluidity indicated by the novel itself. Should future novels in this universe indicate otherwise, the review will be updated.***
I also appreciated that this storyline was exploring Nina’s new Grisha powers since their alteration in Crooked Kingdom, and how she is learning to use them to her advantage. The revelation that Jarl Brum was Hanne’s father was also a nice twist to bring the impact that Matthias’ relationship had on Nina into this story, carrying over from the Six of Crows duology.
Bardugo’s handling of Nikolai’s little problem with the shadow demon inside him felt like it was taken more seriously in this book, whereas it came across as a bit cheesy in Shadow and Bone, like just a means of pushing him out of the plot when he needed to be gone. Here it’s a metaphor for personal demons, and it’s much more effective.
Now to things I had mixed feelings about:
It was so obvious right from the start that Bardugo was going to put Nina and Hanne together romantically. Ordinarily I wouldn’t have a problem with exploring a queer relationship in fiction, this feels way too soon after Matthias’ death for it to be realistic. Supposedly Matthias was the love of Nina’s life, and she’s literally burying him at the start of this book, and then all the sudden Hanne is her new love interest. They had a cute dynamic, and had the circumstances of Nina’s previous storyline been different, I’d probably like Nina/Hanne even more than Nina/Matthias (sorry, but I’m not sorry about it), but it really needed more time to develop fully, and this duology didn’t quite get there. Great concept for an amazing ship, just a tad rushed.
Isaak had the potential to make an interesting new character for this duology. I was mildly intrigued by his introduction, and I actually loved the twist that “Princess Ehri” he fell in love with was actually her guard, Mayu. It was perfectly built up to that revelation throughout all their interactions, with the twist making sense, but still surprising me in the moment. That being said, I’m disappointed that Isaak actually died in the end. He had the makings of such an interesting new edition to the story, and he kind of feels like wasted potential.
I also enjoyed Yuri…. at the beginning of the story. The idea that a fanatic would start a religious cult dedicated to the Darkling feels believable, and Yuri had the makings of a great complex villain. I also loved the idea of he and Nikolai becoming begrudging allies with him to overcome the greater threats occurring in Ravka together—because Nikolai has always been characterized as someone who puts country first, which means he wouldn’t be opposed to working with a fanatic if it meant saving Ravka. But alas. The character never panned out the way I wanted him to.
Which leads me to the parts I didn’t like:
All this potential to develop an interesting new villain is thrown away the moment that Bardugo decides to have the Darkling resurrected and possessing Yuri.
Why. Just why. Why why why why why.
Why couldn’t we let Aleksander rest with his ending and demise in Ruin and Rising?
I will never understand why so many series feel the need to rehash the same antagonist over and over and over just because they were interesting at first. If you keeping bringing them back, they become repetitive, cheesy, and boring. Just give us new and interesting plots and villains, if you’re going to continue a series. Please.
You can’t tell me that Bardugo didn’t have any ideas for a new villain because she already had one with Yuri, and she wasted it to bring back the Darkling in the most ridiculous way!
I also didn’t like the “living saints” take on this story. I understand that it’s high fantasy, but my understanding of good fantasy isn’t “anything’s possible, so do whatever you want.” Good fantasy involves staying true to the established laws of how magic/scifi/mystical elements works in your developed universe. That’s what makes it possible to suspend a reader’s disbelief for the genre—if your reader feels like the magic is rooted somewhere logically, not like the author is just pulling shiny, new, cool fantasy elements out of thin air six books into an established universe. Absolutely nothing from the five previous novels in this universe gives any indication that the saints are alive and out there plotting. It just felt like world building for Bardugo to establish a religion in the Grishaverse. This plot feels like it’s taking place in a completely different fantasy world, and I cringed hard at Lizaveta becoming the villain. Actually I cringed hard at every part she was in.
The absolute only good thing that came out of the whole saints thing was that Zoya got to explore the borders between the different Grisha types and learn how to expand her powers, so that she could be an inferni and a tidemaker as well as a squaller. That was very reminiscent of Avatar the Last Airbender (in a good way), and it almost feels like the one thing that was missing from the Shadow and Bone trilogy—someone who could cross the boundaries of Grisha orders at will. And—oh yeah!—it works with the established way fantasy is depicted in this universe! The very first novel established that Genya’s powers as a tailor blur the lines between Materialki and Corporalki, as well as Nina’s heartrender abilities being able to be altered by jurda parem. So the change in lore for Zoya’s powers works with the established laws of how magic already works and has worked for five novels now in the Grishaverse.
The living saints do not.
I would give King of Scars 3 stars out of 5. I loved all the three main characters. The ships were okay. The prose was good. I liked the characterization. I just couldn’t get on board with the plot at all, and I detest the decision to resurrect the Darkling.
Rule of Wolves
Following suit with the first book, I’ll break down my review of book two based on things I liked and things I didn’t:
Things I liked:
I really enjoyed many aspects of Rule of Wolves and felt that it was a (somewhat) improvement over its predecessor King of Scars. The ongoing conflict between Fjerda and Ravka finally reaching its climax was great, and I’m glad that we finally got some progress towards the Fjerdans starting to accept Grisha among them and make the necessary first steps to move past their prejudice against them.
I also loved the reveal that Joran was the Druskelle who ultimately killed Matthias at the end of Crooked Kingdom. Some fans may have disliked this because Joran had become such a likable character, but I think that this was the point that Bardugo was trying to make. She wanted her readers to understand that, much like Matthias, Joran was the product of a broken system that influenced his world view, but fundamentally, he is not evil. This actually makes Joran a more complex character, as having him be unlikable before revealing him as Matthias’ killer wouldn’t have had much of an impact on the reader, and therefore his significance to Nina’s development would have been weakened. This is a more nuanced revelation, and it’s stronger writing for it.
Nikolai is finally learning to work with the demon inside him and use it as an asset instead of trying to banish it. This continues the trend of his semi-possession being handled better than in the Shadow and Bone trilogy, and it works with the established metaphor of the literal demon representing working through emotional demons. Having Nikolai accept his demon is a good figurative way of showing how people can learn to accept their pasts and themselves.
Of course, I appreciated the cameo made by the Crows, and I’m all for that ending line in which case, the door is left open for a possible third Six of Crows novel should Bardugo ever decide to continue the series. The Six of Crows duology is my favorite portion of the entire Grishaverse, so any Crow content is fine with me.
Surprisingly enough, I actually liked The Darkling’s ending. I did not enjoy his resurrection at the end of King of Scars at all, as I detest when authors constantly rehash the same villains repeatedly instead of creating new, unique ones. However, where he ends up—giving himself up for eternal sacrifice in the Heart of the Making of the World—is the best outcome I could have hoped for for a character resurrection and storyline I never wanted in the first place. It gives it some sense of meaning for its inclusion in the story at all (though I still could have lived without it).
Also a special shout-out to Zoya, Genya, and Alina having girl time at the end of the book. They’ve come so far together since the first Grisha book, and I’m here for it. I am so here for them all acknowledging the way that they’ve been manipulated and hurt by the Darkling instead of being rivals or judging each other.
Things I had mixed feelings about:
David’s death. Top of the list. Easily.
I am a sucker for an emotional, well written character death any day of the week. But the problem with David’s death in Rule of Wolves is that it has a very minimal impact on the events of the story that follow it. If David’s death had caused difficulties in the war with Fjerda because there was some scientific or Materialki problem that only he could solve, and Ravka no longer has him and had to find a way to work around the problem, then that would have been worth it.
However, with the Crows as established characters, it’s easy enough for Wylan (who is also characterized as a scientific genius) and Jesper (a Materialki himself) to step in and get done anything that previously would have been David’s responsibility. So his death never ends up being a setback for the main characters.
The only purpose it really serves is to find a plot-logical reason for Nikolai to go to Ketterdam and to make Genya miserable again, which is an arc we already had enough of in Shadow and Bone. While I’m not hugely attracted to David as a character, I do love Genya, and so my heart breaks for her over his death.
David’s death had the potential to be a really great plot point, but it ends up falling flat.
The next thing is the way that the Apparat is handled.
His presence in the story is a nuisance for me even back with the Shadow and Bone trilogy as well, mainly because it felt like Bardugo never really figured out what his full purpose was in the story, and that’s exactly how his presence in Rule of Wolves comes across as well. She needed to wrap him up, but he really didn’t serve a purpose to the plot of this duology, so he just kind of ended up thrown into the mix randomly towards the end.
Just like with S&B, the significance of his character at all is very vague. I feel like a few rewrites of both Shadow and Bone as well as King of Scars could have omitted him completely.
And lastly, Zoya and Nikolai’s political position swap.
I want to preface that by stating firmly that I love Zoya as a character, and I love her development in this duology as a fully realized character and a strong woman with genuine feelings and depth, rather that the plot device “Mean Girl” she was in Shadow and Bone. Her transformation into the Storm Witch is also good, as being able to manipulate wind, water, and fire allows her to cause actual storms. I really think that’s great. We get a brief scene of her using these abilities in the war against Fjerda, and my only complaint is that I don’t think we got enough of it.
…and then it’s all ruined when Bardugo chooses to have Zoya transform into a literal dragon.
Some fans will probably find this moment epic, and I wish that I could too, but I just could not suspend my disbelief well enough during these scenes. The idea that Zoya was able to use three different Grisha orders’ powers like no one else before her should have been groundbreaking enough, and that concept actually fits in this universes’ established fantasy lore (as I mentioned above), but then it’s easily overshadowed by her literal species transformation.
There is foreshadowing to this happening; I won’t deny that. Juris the Living Saint Dragon Man Thing tries to teach Zoya in KoS the difference between taking an amplifier and becoming one with it, and Zoya’s transformation is supposed to be her becoming one with Juris, after he sacrifices his life in the previous book to her so that she can help defeat Lizaveta. However, the distinction between the two actions is so minuscule and poorly explained in the first place that I’m still not sure I fully understand it, and as a result it didn’t have a strong impact on me.
I think my exact words reading it were, “Hmph.”
I also can’t say that it’s completely inconsistent with the universe. Human beings did change species during the creation of the Fold when they were turned into Volcra. Although it was my understanding that this happened only as a result of The Darkling tampering with merzost, which Zoya didn’t do when she killed Juris and, I guess, didn’t take him as an amplifier even though that’s how he still functions for the most part.
The point I’m trying to make is that Storm Witch Zoya is way cooler, way better written, and way more believable in this story than Actual Dragon Zoya Who Literally Can Morph Species.
Then it goes even further downhill.
It was obvious right from the start that Nikolai and Zoya would end up together and would wind up being the King and Queen of Ravka. This is a YA fantasy, so that much cliche can be predicted and accepted. I withstood worse cliche tropes in S&B, so I was on board with it, but I really think Bardugo dropped the ball on Zoya’s actual coronation and the logic that went behind why it had to be her instead of Nikolai actually on the Ravkan throne.
Nikolai’s entire character arc from his first appearance in Siege and Storm until now had been about him being the king that Ravka needs. It’s about him being best suited for the job, even though he’s a Fjerdan bastard with no Lantsov blood in his veins. It’s not his blood right that made him Ravka’s king. He earned it. This is a well-established part of his character. Even Nina, upon discovering the rumors of his illegitimacy in this very book, doesn’t care.
And then at the last minute in Rule of Wolves, he decides randomly that he actually misses being a privateer, despite the fact that Crooked Kingdom established he was acting as king and privateer AT THE SAME TIME, and didn’t have to give up privateering completely. So as the Ravkan-Fjerdan war comes to an explosive climax, with his parentage in full question, Nikolai decides to give up his crown to save Ravka.
Huhhhhh?
I get it. He loves his country enough that he’s willing to give up his own crown to save it. I understand the arc that Bardugo is using, and it’s a good idea in theory. It’s not the concept of the arc that I don’t like, it’s the execution. By the end of Rule of Wolves, I don’t understand is how Nikolai’s giving up his crown actually ended up saving Ravka. Bardugo did great coming up with an idea for a character arc that would be really deep and meaningful but didn’t get it across in the actual story very well.
The people of Ravka and his court were pretty much loyal to him even after the Fjerdans called into question Nikolai’s parentage, so it really shouldn’t have mattered. But for some reason, it seems like Bardugo is trying to push the idea that Nikolai’s illegitimacy is what’s causing him to drag Ravka down and he needs to give up his crown, but that’s just not in line with the way the characters are behaving. They all support him despite knowing he’s not legitimate! They support him because he’s a good ruler! Literally no one cares that he isn’t really a Lantsov!
It also has something to do with the monster inside him, and that much I get. He thinks it makes him unfit to rule and draws their enemies against his country because it’s terrifying and unpredictable, and that all makes sense… until he passes the crown to Zoya.
I’m sorry but didn’t she just literally transform into a dragon in front of everyone?
A king with a shadow monster inside him can’t be king because of the threat it poses to their country’s safety, but a queen who can also transform into a living apex predator? Yeah that’s aye-okay and definitely won’t draw enemies in for the exact same reason they were terrified of Nikolai. Completely makes sense. Uh huh. No unexplained contradictions here!
Plus, the Fjerdans aren’t prejudiced against Grisha anymore donchyakmow, so they’ll definitely be fine with a species transforming, Grisha queen ruling Ravka and won’t try to attack again to depose her! It basically ends all war, right?
UGH
It’s not that Ravka is worse for having Zoya as queen than they are with Nikolai as king, it’s just that they’re about the same as far as tenuous political relationships with other countries. So since nothing changed for the better or worse, I just don’t get the point.
(Unless you’re trying to tell me that Zoya won’t use her dragon powers to defend Ravka unless she’s queen, which doesn’t make sense because a. she literally did like 10 pages previous, and b. she never wanted to be queen, Nikolai just sprang it on her without any warning [which is its own issue all on its own]).
Plus, since Zoya and Nikolai are now betrothed, Nikolai—the bastard demon king that Fjerda wanted off Ravka’s throne—is still going to be king consort alongside Zoya. The only real difference here is who is the ruling monarch and who is the consort, but they’re ruling together either way. Literally nothing has changed, nothing was done that actually helps Ravka politically. They are in the exact same position as they were 75 pages ago, so what in the name of the Saints was the point of doing it?
I’m not saying Zoya doesn’t deserve it or she won’t be good at it. I’m not even against the concept of it. The idea of Nikolai being a good enough king to give up his crown to save his country, and Zoya inheriting it to start a new royal era, is good on paper. It’s a good idea. But the way that Bardugo executed it doesn’t work because she failed to come up with a convincing reason why it needed to be done or why it helps in the long run. A good idea is only a good story if you can effectively write it into one, and I’m not convinced Rule of Wolves actually did that.
All I can really come up with as an explanation for this is fan service. It feels like in the last few chapters of Rule of Wolves, Bardugo turned Zoya into second chance Alina. Like she was appeasing fans who were disappointed that Alina didn’t marry Nikolai and become the Sun Queen of Ravka, so she transformed Zoya into the Storm Queen and put her with Nikolai. They even have Nikolai use the “soldier, summoner, saint” line to describe Zoya when he is proposing her as queen, which was previously used to describe Alina in the blurbs on the back of the S&B books. And Genya changes her eye patch—once dedicated to Alina’s power—to be dedicated to Zoya’s now. And they start regarding Zoya as a Saint, just as people did with Alina in Shadow and Bone.
Zoya was developing into such an amazing character, and she deserved more than to have her conclusion just bank off the popularity of Alina to satiate disappointed fans. The idea of her becoming the Storm Witch and ruling Ravka was a great idea, but it just wasn’t pulled off convincingly or well written. Perhaps if this series had been a trilogy instead of a duology, Bardugo could have taken more time and care with it to make it really great. Unfortunately though, something that could and should have been a monumental moment is watered down with its poor overall development.
Things I didn’t like:
Shu Han’s involvement in this story. It felt a bit late in the game, given that this is the final book of this universe to start introducing political intrigue there, and I felt that their motivations for wanting to manipulate a war between Ravka and Fjerda were a bit weak.
Although it’s still more interesting than the Living Saints.
Nina’s new Queen of Mourning powers have virtually no impact on this book, despite being quintessential to the plot of the previous book, making her arc in this duology feel rather disconnected.
And the worst part of the whole thing is where she and Hanne end up.
Hanne ends up killing Jarl Brum’s son in self defense… and then uses their heartrender abilities to disguise themselves to look like him. Nina implies that she’ll use her powers to commune with the dead to help keep up the guise, and that “Prince Rasmus” is going to marry Nina’s fake identity “Mila,” and they’ll rule Fjerda together someday or something (?)
Don’t get me wrong, the exploration of gender identity is good. The flaw is with the idea that Hanne is actually going to just simply pose as the Prince of Fjerda forever.
How???? Because Nina communes with the dead???? Do you really think that the real Prince Rasmus is going to willingly help you disguise Hanne as him and cover up his murder from beyond the grave when Hanne is literally the one who killed him? How is this ever going to work???? And do you really think no one is going to question “Rasmus’” decision to marry “Mila”—who is supposedly just a tutor and he’s a prince, especially when she’s a known companion of Hanne Brum? This is the most convoluted and terrible plan ever! It’s so full of holes!
Nina, if Kaz could see your attempt at a clever plan, he’d revoke your membership to the Dregs.
Unlike Zoya becoming queen, this idea isn’t even good on paper. This is just a bad conclusion that fully relies on readers not thinking too much about the flaws to swallow.
I would also give Rule of Wolves 3 stars out of five. It had so many great ideas to work with, but next to nothing was developed carefully enough to make the book work logically.
Overall I would rank the full duology 3 out of 5 stars. There is some substance here. There are parts of the story I liked. I love the three main protagonists. The actual writing style and mechanics are such an improvement over Shadow and Bone. But there are too many flaws and kinks in the plot to ignore. A fully fleshed out, better developed version of this duology easily could have been 4 star worthy, but doesn’t reach that with what we actually got.
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