Captive Prince: Volume Two
S.U. Pacat
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I would like to believe that the life-changing books I discover are God’s way of leading me onto the path of forgiveness. Mine towards Him. For screwing me over. But alas, there is, of course, no God. And I have to sublimate my pain over this non-life I live through wonders like The Captive Prince.
**
It piqued my curiosity after the third time I read a fan tribute on separate book sites, so I downloaded the damn thing just to get over another disappointment and you know, move on. (It was much like how I first read Brothers Karamazov: by stumbling across references to it in practically everything I was reading at the tender age of 16. And boy, did THAT book screw me over.)
But really, S.U.Pacat (not, I am certain, her real name although she may indeed be a very cool supercat) can write. Practically every page sings an aria like a stab through the heart, and you read and re-read immediately, thinking, no, she can’t be this good. But she is. She has created a world from long ago where duelling princes find themselves and each other, making it so much more than a fascinating account of war tactics, or good vs evil.
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Damen is betrayed by his brother Kastor and lover Jocaste and sent into captivity where he meets the supercilious Laurent, neighbouring prince and all-out SOB. No one knows Damen’s royal identity and the revelations of character that follow are utterly absorbing.
**
The interesting thing here is that what is ‘good’ and what ‘evil’ disappears like the best intentions when faced with Nutella or Tyler Hoechlin; with the latter you simply cave in and indulge, with the former your worldview is wrenched from its moorings.
A very clever twist to the tale is how Supacat has made heterosexuality taboo in her world, the norm is gay pairings. How smart is that in an instinctively homophobic world/readership.
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She may slip now and then, using words like pellucid and mordant; they “gaze at each other” a bit too often, and once, shockingly, the phrase ‘No kidding’ emerged out of another century, but I will forgive her anything.
**
The last word must belong to either Damen or Laurent. Their dialogues are so clever, so subtle, so funny, so, and this is what kills me every single time, whether in the real or unreal world, so True.
My favourite early scene between Damen and Laurent is in the baths (Volume 1) where Damen senses the danger for the first time, although Laurent has already done so. He tells Damen: “Don’t be presumptuous”. Damen sneers, “Too late, sweetheart”.
Or “Is there anyone at this court who isn’t my enemy?”
“Not if I can help it,” Laurent said.
**
But the following is powerful as well:
‘That isn’t why. She would have chosen him even if you’d had royal blood in your veins, even if you’d had the same blood as Kastor. You don’t understand the way a mind like that thinks. I do. If I were Jokaste and a king maker, I’d have chosen Kastor over you too.’
‘I suppose you are going to enjoy telling me why,’ said Damen. He felt his hands curl into fists, heard the bitterness in his throat.
‘Because a king maker would always choose the weaker man. The weaker the man, the easier he is to control.”
**
‘She was intelligent, accomplished, beautiful. She was everything I could have asked for in a woman. But she was a king maker. She wanted power. She must have thought her only path to the throne was through Kastor.’
‘My honourable barbarian. I wouldn’t have picked that as your type.’
‘Type?’
‘A pretty face, a devious mind and a ruthless nature.”
**
‘He was not wearing the woollen cap. His newly minted hair was uncovered, and he looked as fresh as he had emerging from the baths the night before, as he had waking beneath Damen’s hands. But he had resumed the cool restraint, his jacket laced, his expression disagreeable from the haughty profile to the intolerant blue eyes.
‘You’re alive,’ Damen said, and the words came out on a rush of relief that made him feel weak.
‘I’m alive,’ said Laurent. They were gazing at one another. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d come back.’
‘I came back,’ said Damen.”
**
Sheba Thayil is a journalist and writer. She was born in Bombay, brought up in Hong Kong, and exiled to Bangalore. While editing, writing and working in varied places like The Economic Times, Gulf Daily News, New Indian ExpressandCosmopolitan, it is the movies and books, she says, that have always sustained her. She blogs at http://shebathayil.blogspot.com/