The Power of Sex: C.S. Pacat’s “Captive Prince”
By Oliver Fosten
It’s easy to expect a quick, smutty novel when picking up “Captive Prince” by C.S. Pacat, the first of a series comprised of three books and four short stories. Beyond the usual warning on the jacket that the book is for mature audiences only, the dramatis personae make it explicitly clear how central dominant and submissive dynamics are to the plot. Let’s not kid ourselves here: this novel is about sex, just not in the way I was remotely expecting. There’s no ripping off of lacy shirts or questionable absence of lube just as there are no tender embraces or rough moments of unhinged passion. Nope, all the horizontal monster-mashing here is about control, gain, and putting more at risk than just the well-being of your genitals.
Prince Damianos of Akielos, the protagonist, is overthrown by his half-brother in a coup following their father’s death. Stripped of his name and title, he is sold to the enemy nation of Vere as a slave, well aware that if anyone finds out his true identity, he will be executed. This proves increasingly difficult as Damianos, now Damen, must serve Prince Laurent, a cold, calculating young man trapped in a sickening power play with his uncle, the Regent. Laurent seems content to torment Damen as he struggles to comprehend the venomously erotic Veretian politics, their initial dynamic succinctly summarized in the dialogue:“‘Is there anyone at this court who isn’t my enemy?’ [Damen said] ‘Not if I can help it,’ Laurent said.” Laurent’s cruelty is only the tip of the iceberg of Vere’s disturbing universe. Damen is quick to note, “This place sickened him. Anywhere else, you simply killed your enemy with a sword. Or poisoned him, if you had the honourless instincts of an assassin. Here, it was layer upon layer of constructed double-dealing, dark, polished and unpleasant.” Even so, as it becomes apparent how interwoven Akielos and Vere’s fates are, Damen and Laurent are forced to accept that if either of them are to ever make it out of the palace, they’ll have to find a way to trust one another. It’s an old trope, this tale of going from enemies to reluctant allies to who knows what later on, but with her detailed world building and fantastically complex characters, Pacat makes the story feel fresh.
As I was hinting at earlier, this is a game of Risk wearing the skin of queer erotica and, frankly, the combination is absolutely delicious. The paradise-like ease in Akielos, heinous spectacles of child sexual abuse and simulated rape, and increasing unease about characters we once trusted, ingeniously veil the sprawling schemes that fill every page. Every tiny detail represents something far larger and even on my third reading of the novel, I discovered previously overlooked gems that made me want to swoon on the nearest piece of furniture.
“Captive Prince” isn’t for everyone. Slavery and rape, often involving children, are depicted throughout the book. However, unlike other works of violent fantasy such as “Game of Thrones,” these atrocities aren’t simply left to serve as festering world building. They’re among the active problems characters must confront and solve. Damen grew up being served by slaves with little concern about their happiness, just as Laurent wavers between manipulating and assisting the Regent’s aging catamite. As a queer writer, I take issue with the strict gender binary within the world and the lack of female characters, although these problems are hardly unique to Pacat’s work. Even a writer as progressive as Pacat can let conservative ideas in slip into her writing despite growing up as a queer, ethnic minority in Australia. Despite this, just as “a golden prince was easy to love if you did not have to watch him picking wings off flies,” I’m inclined to forgive her when presented with a story so devoid of queerphobia that is also so open about just how damaging loss and abuse are.
“Captive Prince” is an unforgettable read for those looking for an excellent fantasy, queer, and/or political thriller novel. Damen and Laurent are near perfectly balanced as individual characters and foils, comparable to any celebrated, if unconventional, food pairing. In this case, said combination consists of a kind, clever beefcake and a sweet looking blondie that hides a sour burst of lemon.
Oliver Fosten is an NYU English major who will soon graduate. When they aren’t working on their novels and short stories, they enjoy video games, tea, rain, monsters, and trying to make friends with every cat they come across.