Sorcery of Thorns

Nathaniel is the protagonist’s haunted, cynical, and playful love interest. The 18-year-old has a pale complexion, light gray eyes, and black hair with “a vivid streak of silver” as a mark of his contract with Silas (23). Elisabeth’s first impression of the sorcerer is colored by the Great Library’s biases against magic: “His every feature projected villainy, from his dark, arching eyebrows to the sardonic twist of his mouth” (25). Fearing that his Thorn blood dooms him to hurt those close to him, the traumatized young man has isolated himself after his parents’ and little brother’s deaths. Rogerson roots Nathaniel’s cynicism in his father’s attempt to resurrect his wife and younger son with a forbidden ritual. The social disgrace this brought on his family undergirds his willingness to immediately believe Elisabeth’s word about Chancellor Ashcroft’s villainy. As Nathaniel says, “I make a point of never underestimating what a sorcerer can do. No matter how good, or kind, or trustworthy they seem—I’ve seen what they’re capable of with my own eyes” (187). Nathaniel’s jaded view of the world makes his complete faith in Elisabeth all the more meaningful to her. He uses humor to cope with and disguise his loss and loneliness, adding touches of levity to the suspenseful tone of Rogerson’s narrative. For example, when Elisabeth accidentally releases a Malefict in his home, he tells her, “If the two of you feel the need to destroy anything else, I’ve been meaning to get rid of Aunt Clothilde’s tapestry for years” (258). Nathaniel’s playfulness conceals the trauma of his childhood.

Nathaniel’s romantic connection with Elisabeth allows Rogerson to center the novel’s thematic interest in The Complexities of Trust and Betrayal in Relationships, not only in the story’s central love story but also in Elisabeth’s relationships with the secondary characters as well. Knowing Nathaniel helps the protagonist interrogate the Great Library’s restrictive teachings against sorcery for herself and form her own beliefs. In turn, Elisabeth helps Nathaniel learn to open his heart again despite past pain, allowing him to embrace the truth that he isn’t doomed to repeat his ancestors’ mistakes. As Nathaniel tells Elisabeth in the dungeon of Harrows, “You’ve reminded me to live. That’s worth having something to lose” (373). Rogerson delves further into the theme through Nathaniel’s complicated bond with Silas, who saved his life by killing Nathaniel’s father. The trust that develops between Nathaniel, Elisabeth, and Silas despite the complex social and spiritual dynamics and prejudices of their world allows them to protect their community and secure a happy ending together.

The dutiful, protective, and guilt-wracked Silas, a demon contracted to work for Nathaniel, allows Rogerson’s narrative to engage with the concepts of good and evil in a nuanced way. Silas has the ability to change form at will, and he spends most of the novel in the guise of a human servant: “[Silas] was a young man dressed in old-fashioned livery, his hair meticulously powdered white. He appeared to be around Nathaniel’s age, and he was slight of build and quite short” (55). His unassuming appearance disguises his supernatural power and makes it easier for him to carry out his master’s wishes. Silas performs all the housekeeping for Thorn Manor by himself, and he’s meticulous in even the smallest tasks, such as brewing the perfect cup of tea. In time, Elisabeth learns that this precision isn’t due to his demonic nature but rather the result of years of practice. Since Nathaniel was 12, Silas has been the only person looking after the young sorcerer, and Nathaniel views him as “the only family he ha[s] left” (225). As a result, Silas is highly protective of Nathaniel and anyone the sorcerer cares about, often using his supernatural strength to violently remove threats. Despite his serene exterior, Silas grapples with terrible guilt over the death of Alistair Thorn and his life-shortening contract with Nathaniel. In Chapter 20, he tells Elisabeth, “You see, there is no absolution, no penance, for a creature such as I” (228). Although Silas views himself as a creature of pure evil because of his station, Rogerson emphasizes Silas’s noble qualities—his protective love, devotion to his duty, humility, and self-reproach—contrasting them with the corrupt character of Ashcroft, whom the world of the novel esteems.

Silas’s dynamic character growth over the course of the narrative sees him evolve from a demon who wholly accepts the world’s view of him to a character who embraces self-acceptance, motivated by the love and support of his friends. When Elisabeth first meets Silas, she believes what she has been taught, that “demons [can] not feel love, or compassion, or loss” (109), but over time, she discovers how untrue this is and grows to care for him. Both Elisabeth and Nathaniel trust Silas far more than the demon trusts himself, as evidenced by his insistence that they shouldn’t free him “no matter how unspeakable things become” (333). The theme of trust is essential to the novel’s climax because Elisabeth’s faith and Nathaniel’s forgiveness empower Silas to overcome his demonic hunger and save the world from the Archon. In the Epilogue, Rogerson further emphasizes Silas’s transformation by changing his true name from his Enochian title, Silariathas, to the name that his mortal loved ones call him. Silas’s growth over the course of the novel speaks to the redemptive power of trust and love.

Ashcroft, Chancellor of Magic, is the novel’s charismatic, ambitious, and traitorous antagonist. As with many of Rogerson’s male characters, there is an ironic tension between Ashcroft’s outward appearance and his inner nature. The novel’s villain looks like “a hero from the pages of a storybook” (122). The “undeniably handsome” sorcerer has a “brilliant smile,” “thick, glossy blond hair,” one blue eye, and a crimson eye that is the mark of his contract with the demon Lorelei (118). As Chancellor of Magic, Ashcroft is the second most powerful person in Austermeer, and his country sees him as a genius, a philanthropist, and a charismatic socialite. However, he abuses the trust placed in him. For example, he magically invades Elisabeth’s memories when she is a guest in his manor and uses mind-control spells to make the Directors sabotage their own libraries. The ambitious antagonist views magic as a tool like technology that can drive humanity’s progress. He seeks to complete a plan that his ancestor set into motion centuries ago and summon the ruler of the Otherworld. He believes that “with the Archon’s power at [his] disposal, humanity will be transformed. No more sickness, or poverty, or war” (387). Hubris, his central flaw, allows him to believe himself superior to others, making him a ruthless and formidable villain.

His towering ambition is his undoing, and it nearly spells doom for the entire world. Corrupted by pride, Ashcroft sees himself as a hero who will bring paradise on earth, with no regard for the pain and suffering that he will cause with this pursuit. In this way, Rogerson contrasts the hubris and self-aggrandizing ambition of her antagonist with the selflessness and compassion of her protagonist, making them natural enemies.

Rogerson also positions Ashcroft as a foil to Nathaniel. Both the Chancellor and Elisabeth’s love interest are powerful sorcerers who hold great wealth and social status. However, Ashcroft embraces his ancestor’s legacy and goals without question, while Nathaniel feels tortured by his forebears’ mistakes and strives not to repeat them. In her characterization of Ashcroft, Rogerson evokes another classic trop of Gothic literature in which the female protagonists are menaced by tyrannical men. Ashcroft fills this role by abusing his position as Chancellor and repeatedly attempting to rob Elisabeth of her agency. His villainous schemes provide the story’s inciting incident, as he’s responsible for the Director’s death. Ashcroft’s social privilege provides him with access to education, libraries, and grimoires that enables his evil plans, highlighting the novel’s thematic interest in The Power of Knowledge and Its Potential for Both Good and Evil. However, in keeping with a traditional fable that includes a moral lesson, Rogerson’s conclusion suggests that good will always triumph over evil. As the novel opens, the Chancellor is a nearly invincible figure in the world of Austermeer, but he loses his nation’s trust, his magic, and ultimately his freedom because of his hubris and ruthless ambition. The realization that his deeds have brought the world doom rather than salvation renders him a pitiful figure: “Elisabeth had desired this moment so greatly: [the Chancellor’s] confidence shattered, his power stripped away. But now that she had it, she realized it was worth nothing to her at all” (433). Ashcroft advances the story’s plot and themes, providing Elisabeth and her allies with a formidable foe.

The Director is the protagonist’s valiant, stern, and secretly loving mother figure. Rogerson offers the following description of her in Chapter 1: “She was a remote, elegant woman with ice-pale features and hair as red as flame” (2). Indeed, the leader of the Great Library of Summershall is so remote that Elisabeth doesn’t learn that her first name is Irena until after the woman’s death. The Director carries proof of her valor in the form of a scar that stretches “from her left temple all the way to her jaw” (2), which she received during a battle with a Malefict when she was only 19. As the central figure in Elisabeth’s childhood, the Director becomes Elisabeth model for what a person should be and the things they should value. Governed by the warden’s motto, “Duty unto death” (4), the Director is a model of composure and courage in her mission to protect the world from dangerous grimoires, but her stern exterior prevents Elisabeth from realizing that her mentor has always loved and believed in her until she inherits the late woman’s cherished sword.

Although the Director dies in Chapter 4, her influence on the protagonist extends throughout the novel, and her death provides the novel with its inciting incident, setting the central plot and Elisabeth’s character arc in motion. She found Elisabeth as an infant and permitted her to grow up in the Great Library. This unprecedented situation granted Elisabeth abilities that prove essential to the plot, including a unique kinship with grimoires, resistance to magic, and enhanced physical strength. In addition, the Director leaves her sword, Demonslayer, to Elisabeth in her will, and the weapon serves as a motif for the theme of Growing Into a Heroine. Even after her death, the Director is a strong influence on the protagonist’s thoughts and decisions. At first, Elisabeth strives to follow her mentor’s example, but she gradually breaks away from the Director’s teachings and learns to trust Nathaniel and Silas and form her own perspective on the world. Still, in times of doubt, Elisabeth holds fast to the Director’s formative faith in her: “You belonged in the library, as much as any book” (7). Elisabeth’s love for the Director and her determination to solve the mystery of her murder are her driving motivations for much of the novel, but her character arc ultimately sees her creating her own path to heroism, honoring her mentor’s example by becoming her own person rather than following directly in her footsteps.