SPOILERS
The Riders Quadrant strips initiates of their conscience, and forces them into cold, hard flight leathers. They’re trained to distance their peers, to fly with caution, and grow accustomed to death. Naturally, trust is a parapet for those who haven’t been given a reason to cross. There’s a force urging them to retreat, and another encouraging them to forge ahead. The ones who value truth and brave chance offer a glimpse of what awaits on unfamiliar ground when we’re bold enough to follow our hearts: catharsis, for one. Violet is as fierce as lightning (at least when she’s battling venin and wyvern), but Xaden hides behind his protective shadows that rarely leave his side. When Vi reaches, he backs away, relying on secrets to keep her at a distance. The dilemma is, Violence needs Xaden to conquer the parapet alone, but he wants love to come fetch him and guide him off the ledge. Sound familiar? It should because Violet did just that on Reunification Day during her first year, and it set the precedent for their relationship. In fact, to make the relationship work, Violence repeatedly compromises on mutual respect, hoping her bravery will inspire some, but it doesn’t. She merely saves Xaden the trouble of gathering the compassion to meet her halfway.
Let’s address the shower scene because it illustrates the dangers of channeling lust to overpower our greatest instinctive weapon: anxiety. When Violet shows up at Samara to check on Xaden, she’s frantic, and the need for his touch becomes more about survival. They’re both standing on that parapet. Xaden is terrified to take a step because if he does, he’s handing her the power to hurt him, but Violet’s shaken state comes from the fear of losing the one she loves—love she fears is unrequited. If he can’t even surrender to his physical drives, it confirms everything she doesn’t want to know. When Xaden yields, Violet has, in turn, manufactured a sense of trust for her peace of mind. But it doesn’t actually exist. Even as they’re making love, she panics as it nears the end because it’s the physical act that holds them together. The moment it ends, there’s nothing keeping them where they stand, and she’s afraid he’ll retreat as soon as it’s over. That fear of abandonment is paramount, and Xaden’s hollow words do very little to calm the foreboding in her heart. He acts on his feelings, loosens the restraint on his pride, knowing she doesn’t trust him, knowing he has yet to fully trust Vi. If he did, he wouldn’t ask her to love him, secrets and all. In this scene, neither of them actually conquers the parapet, presuming they can cheat their way across through intimacy, but denial will only pull them further apart.
Xaden took a woman who used to be assertive and turned her into someone who denies her needs and compensates for his emotional shortcomings. It’s evidenced in chapter 55 that Xaden has zero self-awareness. He belittles Vi for avoiding the truth as if he hasn’t been doing the same. As they’re arguing, he launches a dagger towards Violet’s face, only to intercept it, making a painfully ineffectual point. Instead of ambushing the woman he loves, like he normally does, he can give her some warning to make sure she doesn’t walk into situations with her agency compromised. Xaden can sense Violence’s angst and knows he’s to blame. But he doesn’t end her suffering with the truth. No, he lets the daggers fall where they may and sidesteps honesty for the same reasons Vi does: self-preservation. He almost lost her to his lies, and to reveal anything more might jeopardize their relationship. It’s why Vi doesn’t ask questions that weigh on her, even though she had no problem being upfront about her feelings before. She’s terrified she’s going to lose him if she reinforces her needs, and based on their history, she’s not wrong to think that way. During this argument in their bedroom, Xaden might encourage Vi to pursue the truth, to be brave, but it’s so he doesn’t have to be. The only reason he eventually agrees to total honesty is because Violet already deduced most of his secrets. She did all the work while he cowered on the ledge, and in the end, he couldn’t even keep his word. He couldn’t even give her that.
Rating 2.5 out of 5 – It’s redundant. The back and forth between Basgiath and Samara gets stale after a while. But, again, as I wrote in my previous review of Fourth Wing, I care about Violence.
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