A couple of weeks (?) later, Po and Katsa hang out.  Po casually asks Katsa what she’ll do when Giddon gets up the nerve to propose to her.  Katsa, finally showing her socially oblivious chops that we’ve heard so much about, is baffled by the very obvious fact that Giddon is smitten with her.

“No,” [Po] said. “No, he certainly doesn’t. Giddon trusts me about as much as he trusts Murgon. I imagine he thinks any man who fights you as I do is no better than an Opportunist and no worse than a thug.”

Well, you haven’t exactly done anything to prove him wrong.  Haven’t proven him right, either, but all that does is make you an unknown element from a different kingdom with loyalties unknown who happens to possess dangerous knowledge about all of them.

And I wouldn’t trust someone with motives unknown and blackmail material who also has no controls and can fight our unstoppable punch machine.  That’s a legitimate concern, and I don’t like the tone this book is taking by treating Giddon as foolish for thinking it. 

Katsa goes to ask Raffin if all this is true, and Raffin is surprised she didn’t pick up on the painfully obvious.  When Katsa freaks out, Raffin rightfully points out that she can just say no to the guy, let him down easy, it’s not like anyone’s in a position to pressure her into it.

“My dear Katsa,” Raffin said, “Giddon is so very handsome, are you sure you won’t reconsider?”

…wow.  So, that’s all you got, Raffin?  Either no one likes Giddon, or this book is more focused on appearances than it cares to admit. 

In fact, despite Katsa’s “I don’t like to pretty up” episode from earlier, there really is a lot of focus on looks.  All her concerns on the matter are centered on self-esteem issues instead of actually not caring, she’s super pleased every time Prince Old Guy tells her that her eyes are pretty, she obsesses over Po’s looks and his pretty eyes, and now this.  Granted, looks don’t have the same absurd focus as a lot of other YA works out there, but the book isn’t exactly trying to buck the trend in that regard.

Later that night, the council gathers to talk about Grandpa Prince’s kidnapping.  They conclude that no one has any reason to kidnap the guy.  Riveting.

“And if someone had it in mind to provoke the Lienid royal family,” Oll said, “wouldn’t they reveal themselves eventually? Otherwise, the power play becomes pointless.”

Umm…you un-kidnapped him.  Maybe that’s why there’s no ransom note.  The kidnappers are too busy dealing with your monkeywrench. 

Murgon worked for others, and his sole motivation was money.

I have no idea why this book is about kings when it so clearly just wants to be about random rich people.

“I don’t see how you can be so sure,” Giddon said.

Po’s eyes flashed to him. “You’ll have to take my word, Lord Giddon. Neither my father nor my brothers nor my mother nor anyone else at the Lienid court was involved in the kidnapping.”

“Po’s word is good enough for the Council,” Raffin said.

You know, we’re getting into Thomas/Gally territory here, where the fact that everyone for some reason loves the new guy makes the “jealous antagonist” the only reasonable person in the room.

No one has any reason to trust Po, and he’s actually said some fairly suspicious stuff, and also he’s fucking magic, and yet their main enforcer instantly trusts him and spends all her time with him, and everyone else is on his side with little to no proof of anything he says…and yet we’re supposed to side with him and against Giddon merely because he’s the main character.

Po randomly asks if the king of Monsea might be a suspect.

“A king with a reputation for kindness to injured animals and lost children,” Giddon said, “come out of his isolation to kidnap his wife’s aging father? A bit unlikely, don’t you think?”

Notice how no one says “and a tight control over all his subjects” or “an outspoken aversion to violence against old people” or really anything that would preclude him from kidnapping someone.

Oh, hey, look, what’s that?  Is that Hitler being nice to a small child?  Well then, clearly no one who’s nice to small children can ever do something terrible.  Nope, that is unpossible.

I think I just lost some internet rule by bringing up Hitler, but I don’t care.

Katsa suggests that they torture Murgon or one of his underlings, because even if Murgon didn’t instigate, he’d still know who hired him.  Everyone insists that she can’t do it because it would reveal her involvement in the matter and Giddon suggests that Po do it, because no one would question why he cares.

“Greening should be the one to do it, anyway,” Giddon said, and Po’s cool eyes flicked to him again. “Murgon wouldn’t question the motivation of a Lienid prince. Murgon would expect it of him. In fact, I don’t see why you haven’t done it already,” Giddon said to Po, “if you wish so much to know who’s responsible.”

Katsa was too irritated to care about her strategic seating plan. She leaned around Raffin and Bann to address Giddon. “It’s because Murgon can’t know that Po knows Murgon is involved,” she said. “How would Po explain that knowledge, without incriminating us?”

Except, once you reach the level of torturing someone, do you really need to explain your motives?

Do you really think whoever you capture AND TORTURE is going to be in a position to demand an explanation?  Even if they did, you don’t have to answer, and if you just don’t answer…they don’t know about your stupid little council.  You can’t incriminate a secret.  People would probably just assume that the Leinid have spies, like everyone else in this book does.  I really don’t see how someone would jump straight from not knowing about the council to suddenly knowing about it just based on this.

They all decide to drop the matter and not torture anyone, and the meeting closes with no one learning anything or getting any closer to any goal, rendering the last several pages completely moot.

Oll began to speak then of a Westeran village that had met a Nanderan raiding party with a pair of catapults, given to them by a Westeran lord who was friend to the Council.

I can’t think anything good of this lord for giving them catapults, because what the fuck was he doing before now?

As I’ve covered elsewhere, the ENTIRE JOB of a noble in this set up is to govern and protect.  It’s why he’s got the armies to begin with.  If he’s not protecting his people, then what the fuck is he doing?  I mean, sure, bad and neglectful nobles were common enough, but 1) the book seems to imply that someone should get a fucking cookie for doing their job and 2) bad and neglectful nobles still had to put in some amount of effort, or someone else had to on their behalf, or else they would get overthrown.  There’s a minimum amount of job-doing that has to be done even to reach the level of ‘bad,’ because less than that you get ‘no food’ and ‘open revolts.’

The book has no fucks to give on this matter and instead spends the rest of the chapter with Katsa thinking about how so very pretty Po is.  Awesome.