#ruko valit

[readingpastdark]

me reading the raven scholar and connecting the dots in my head...

[tess-talks-inc]

the intense tragedy of the twins Yana and Ruko Valit is that both of them are destined to be erased in different ways- a sister who is exiled and redacted from history books, but remembered in the minds and scars of the people for her kind actions versus a brother whose name is known, will be written ito history books and lauded, but the person he actually is is forgotten, left to rot as a stranger wears his face.

I need the next book so bad actually-

[a2zillustration]

Has anyone else out there read The Raven Scholar by Antonia Hodgson? You should read it, and then talk to me about it.

[echoes-of-a-life-well-lived]

The Raven Scholar was fantastic and not at all what I expected!! I need the second book ASAP!

[wangkuans]

thinking (always) about ruko and yana but specifically about how they fucked each other up sooo bad. them causing each other’s suffering. them saving each other from suffering. twins from the beginning, til the end. ruko’s betrayal is straightforward: he wants the throne, and he will send his sister to exile for it. she dies a slow and painful death, but she’s free from their father’s tyranny. she doesn’t have to see the world end; she can remain a tragic story. and ruko wasn’t even trying to save her; he’s genuinely power-hungry enough to send his sister into exile. yana wasn’t like that. all she wanted was for ruko to suffer a little bit, but she was always the better twin: she still wanted to save him. and she does in some way, in the form of benna, her only friend. ruko is saved because benna loved yana, and yana loved ruko. all benna did was make him laugh a little, but it was enough to save him, only, as we know by the end of the book, death would’ve been kinder for ruko.

ruko meant to kill his sister, and saved her instead. yana meant to save her brother, and made him suffer instead. twins, twins, twins.

[echoes-of-a-life-well-lived]

I'm such a sucker. They have one (emotional) conversation and now I'm shipping them, I'm pathetic.

[abigailspinach]

Ruko Valit.

Even Yana would have struggled to recognise him. Nothing left of that eager, careless boy who’d come to the palace eight years ago full of dreams and optimism. He had melted himself down in the forge of Anat-hurun; hammered himself into a new and deadly shape. An iron-hard, grim-faced warrior, towering over his contingent.

Looks just like his father, someone said, and was quickly hushed.

It was true, though. Ruko was a few inches taller than Andren had been. He wore his black hair short, and he was clean-shaven. Otherwise, the resemblance was striking. The handsome geometry of his face, the golden skin. The dark, penetrating charisma that made you stare, and stare again.

“I’d definitely fuck him,” Cain said, in her ear. “But I wouldn’t hang around after.”

Neema was still gripping Cain’s arm. She let go.

“Look at him,” Cain said.

Oh, she was looking. It was looking away that was the problem. He was so perfect, it was disturbing. If Shimmer Arbell had painted him, she would have given him a flaw, just to make him human.

“Is that the Blade of Peace?” Cain asked, knowing that it must be. Hurun-tooth, the cursed blade. Ruko was wearing it on his left hip, sheathed in a plain leather scabbard. Only the wooden hilt was visible, equally plain. Cain tilted his head. “The question is, do we want an emperor who killed his own sister? I think the answer’s no, right?”

“You can’t talk about her. It’s forbidden.”

He slid Neema a scathing look. “And so much worse than writing her death warrant.”

“Technically,” she said, because she could never help herself, “it was an Imperial Order of Exile.”

“Oh, I do beg your fucking pardon,” Cain muttered.

Across the room, a servant approached Ruko with a drinks tray. Ruko looked at her. She stumbled back, as if she had been shoved hard in the chest.

“Eight, I hope he doesn’t win,” Neema said, then cursed under her breath.

Ruko was staring at her. She waited for him to move on, but he kept his gaze locked on hers, hard and unblinking. The seconds passed into something intensely uncomfortable.

“Can he read lips?” she asked Cain. “Do they teach that at the Tiger monastery?”

Ruko curled his finger at her. Come. The arrogance. She almost resisted on principle. But curiosity won out, as it always did with her.

“I’m going over.”

“Have fun,” Cain drawled.

The moment she was gone, he was surrounded by fawning admirers, fans flapping. Are you enjoying yourself, Contender Ballari? Would you like a fresh glass of wine? Look, I’m wearing orange in your honour, Fox contender, does it suit me? Of course, he said. Of course, of course. My answer is always yes. More laughter, more flapping.

And all the while he kept one eye on Neema, walking away from him.

[abigailspinach]

The Tiger contingent had arrived, which meant…

Without thinking, she grabbed Cain’s arm. Passing through the banqueting hall, ripples of horror, and disgust.

He’s here. Next to the abbess. Look!

Eight. Is that really him?

Ruko Valit.

Even Yana would have struggled to recognise him. Nothing left of that eager, careless boy who’d come to the palace eight years ago full of dreams and optimism. He had melted himself down in the forge of Anat-hurun; hammered himself into a new and deadly shape. An iron-hard, grim-faced warrior, towering over his contingent.

Looks just like his father, someone said, and was quickly hushed. It was true, though. Ruko was a few inches taller than Andren had been. He wore his black hair short, and he was clean-shaven. Otherwise, the resemblance was striking. The handsome geometry of his face, the golden skin. The dark, penetrating charisma that made you stare, and stare again.

“I’d definitely fuck him,” Cain said, in her ear. “But I wouldn’t hang around after.”

Neema was still gripping Cain’s arm. She let go.

“Look at him,” Cain said.

Oh, she was looking. It was looking away that was the problem. He was so perfect, it was disturbing.