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Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of illness, death, death by suicide, physical abuse, emotional abuse, ableism, and gender discrimination.
In the oppressive, power-hungry society depicted in A Dance of Lies, trade in their moral integrity in order to survive. The novel argues that in a world governed by tyrants, the fight for one’s life often requires adopting the very cruelty one seeks to escape. Vasalie’s journey from a prisoner to a reluctant assassin illustrates this destructive cost. Her initial desperation to avoid returning to her cell morphs into a series of compromising acts, leading to ambiguous choices.
The narrative doesn’t judge individuals for their moral compromises, focusing instead on the extreme contexts in which such choices are made. Before King Illian offers Vasalie a choice between becoming his spy or returning to her cell, the text illustrates the harsh realities of imprisonment. Vasalie is kept in complete darkness and filth and counts the rats in her cell to keep herself from spiraling into panic. Two years in shackles, with poor nutrition and no exercise or light, have left Vasalie with atrophied muscles and chronic pain. Once the narrative has established the terrifying reality of Vasalie’s isolation, it becomes plausible that she would accept any deal to avoid a return to abject panic. Similarly, the novel establishes the treachery and extreme cruelty of Illian’s and Estienne’s courts to put into perspective Copelan’s choice to abandon Vasalie to save Esmee. Being entrenched in Miridran court politics, Copelan is well aware of the threat to Esmee.
Survivalism may be necessary, but it comes at an enormous moral cost, especially because it’s an escalating cycle. It’s not enough that Vasalie has spy for Illian; she soon also has to incriminate Laurent and Marian, using classified information, and is ultimately coerced into the murder of King Rurik. Killing Rurik is especially costly for Vasalie’s spirit since he’s the ruler of her homeland, Brisendale, “the king [she] grew up reciting prayers for” (369). Yet she must kill him to save Anton and the hope of a better future for Miridran. After she murders Rurik, Vasalie is consumed with despair and self-doubt, wondering is Illian chose her to be his spy because he sensed a “darkness” in her soul all along. She castigates herself, thinking that anyone else in her place, “anyone with a soul” (372), would have rebelled against Illian.
Thus, the choices that Vasalie makes for her survival and those of her loved ones leave her with great trauma. It’s only after she learns of her father and Illian’s lifelong plot to control her that she decides that survival at any cost may not be survival after all. She finally tells Illian to kill her rather than force her to enact his charade. In the novel’s climax, she sacrifices herself to ensure Illian’s death and end the cycle of blackmail and moral compromises, showing that survivalism has its limits.
Brittney Arena’s A Dance of Lies depicts physical disability not as a weakness but as a catalyst for resilience and creative adaptation. Through its protagonist, Vasalie, the novel challenges the narrative that strength is purely physical. After her imprisonment leaves her with chronic pain and physical limitations, Vasalie initially feels that she will never dance again, as dance requires strength and athleticism. However, once she begins to come to terms with her new body, Vasalie is forced to rely on other artistic and storytelling skills to reinvent her identity as a dancer.
The novel firmly establishes Vasalie’s condition as a permanent, life-altering reality rather than a temporary obstacle to be overcome. After her release, the physician diagnoses her with a host of chronic issues, including nerve damage, atrophied muscles, and a heart syndrome (later identified as POTS in the author’s note). His prognosis is stark: She may never regain her full range of motion and must learn to live with the pain and fatigue. This diagnosis shatters Vasalie’s hope of returning to her former self, leaving her feeling distraught.
By grounding her disability in the language of chronic illness, the narrative sets the stage for a journey of adaptation, forcing Vasalie to find a new way to define her artistry. Further, the narrative rejects the concept of a “cure” or “magical healing” to assert that Vasalie’s disability is more than a plot point. Healing for Vasalie is about learning to live with her physical changes, and it doesn’t happen overnight. Vasalie is shown to grieve for her past body; in one instance, she weeps when she watches Esmee dance with agility and grace. Her physical pain also persists through the novel, a ubiquitous feature of her life.
Faced with these new constraints, Vasalie’s artistic evolution demonstrates how limitations can foster innovation. For her first performance, knowing she can’t execute the physically demanding routines of her past, she develops a new technique using “Dust of the Moon” (51)—dyed millen flour. She creates a spectacle of color and light, crafting illusory wings and creating special effects. This performance relies on storytelling rather than flawless physical execution. It is this ingenuity that captivates her audience and impresses the Master of Revels, Copelan, securing her a coveted spot at the Gathering.
This theme is reinforced through the parallel narrative of Marian. Vasalie finds inspiration in Brigitte’s story about her, a talented baker who, despite being covered in severe burn scars, refined a new type of flour and achieved great success. Brigitte tells Vasalie, “[S]cars are powerful things, because they show your resilience. So rise from your ashes, my dear. Do not crumble alongside them” (34). This story helps Vasalie see her own scars—both visible and invisible—as marks of survival.
In the social milieu of the novel, power is based on performances and illusions that privilege the rulers and belittle the vulnerable. The intertwined conspiracies of King Illian and General Stova reveal that their authority isn’t earned through genuine leadership but is manufactured through fabricated narratives, secrets, and lies. The novel argues that such power is inherently fragile because it relies on a constant performance of control and the lies are destined to eventually be revealed.
Illian’s political control begins with the subjugation of individuals through constructing false narratives and withholding critical information, as evinced by his treatment of Vasalie. Illian hides the real reason for Vasalie’s punishment—her father’s vengeance against her—and manufactures false “evidence” to as leverage against her. By controlling the flow of information around Vasalie, Illian ensures that she remains in a vulnerable position relative to him, forced to be exploited.
Illian’s schemes extend from individual manipulation to grand, public deceptions. His coup against his brother Estienne is a piece of political theater meant to cement the legitimacy of his claim for the throne. Illian orchestrates a dramatic public reveal of Estienne’s “illegitimate” birth because he knows the law will force Estienne to abdicate. Illian employs a similar strategy of deception against Anton, using a duplicated seal to forge letters that frame Anton and Queen Sadira in a conspiracy. By presenting this “evidence” to the Crowns’ Syndicate, Illian manipulates the other leaders into denouncing Anton and declaring him High King.
The secret alliance between Illian and General Stova shows that their shared power is based on hoarding classified knowledge. Stova has always known his daughter’s whereabouts and recognizes her the first instance he sees her in Anton’s court. Yet he keeps this knowledge “secret” so that Illian can continue to blackmail Vasalie. It is Stova who chooses the moment he will reveal his connection to Vasalie, thus ensuring that the information is shared on his terms alone. Illian doesn’t tell Vasalie for nearly 12 years that he knows her parentage and the fact that she was his future bride. He doesn’t make sexual overtures against Vasalie only because of a promise to Stova yet lets Vasalie believe that his restraint arises from chivalry toward her.
Together, the two powerful men control information to create an illusory narrative and keep Vasalie on the outside. Vasalie’s subsequent treatment—being veiled and handed from father to potential groom—shows the gender politics behind the obstruction of the truth. In patriarchal systems, stakeholders often keep the truth from women and gendered minorities to control them and establish their weakness. Vasalie reflects that the more her father and Illian kept her in the dark, the less sure she grew of herself, believing that she’d “never be more than a man’s plaything” (395). It’s only when she learns the full truth and breaks the illusions that sustain power that Vasalie is able to see that she is no “sacrificial lamb” but a creature who has grown “claws. Teeth. Scales” (404).



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