TL;DR - Encanto did it better.

This review is going to be a little whip-lashy, and I'm sorry for that; I'm of two minds. I do see what the author was trying to do, but I'm largely disinterested in the final product. This sequel was cringey, and disappointing in almost every way. It was ambitious to try and write "Generational Trauma: The Book", props for that. I like that the stages of grief were represented by the different chunks of the book. And Bree's wrongful incarceration was toooo real, that left me shook. BUT, for hundreds of pages, Bree is either kidnapped and incapacitated, injured and incapacitated, willingly in hiding, or in hiding but brashly trying to leave her cone of safety... thus restarting the cycle. She is rarely the agent of her own story, needing rescue or witnessing others' heroics for most of the book. I use the term "story" loosely. For almost 500 pages, the conversation between Bree and her friends is cyclical: "We should go to Nick", "No we shouldn't", "Yes we should", "No we shouldn't." Other than reacting to chaos and waiting for the plot to catch them, our "heroes" don't do anything! I could forgive the book for feeling stuck on purpose, since it's trying to highlight trauma and grief, and the nature of being trapped by hurtful events beyond our control... BUT the characters almost get assassinated in service to the theme. The colorful variety of characters from the first book have been flattened. Every single character exists to either tell Bree she's magnificent, or to exposit lore like a walking wiki! And she's NOT, let's get that right! Book 1 Bree was shrewd, daring - defiant, yes, but capable of admitting her limitations and accepting help. Book 2 Bree is naive, reckless, and overly defensive - any criticism given she assumes comes from a place of disloyalty or racist intolerance. I can't tell if the author was too close to the subject matter, and doesn't see Bree's hypocrisy, OR if the reader is MEANT to read Bree as flawed but sympathize with her anyway. I don't. I don't sympathize with her just because she's in trouble, or is grieving, or has good intentions, or is a black girl in a violent world. I found her to be her own worst enemy. She IS untrained, and she IS outgunned, and she DOESN'T have time to fight the system's injustice because THE WAR is already happening, and for her sake and others she SHOULD take a step back to regroup, gain intel, make a plan... This whole series seems to frequently forget that - regardless of the racist overlords in charge of The Round Table today - there are LITERAL DEMONS on the loose, and the world doesn't have time to baby Bree! Yes obviously, trauma changes people and everyone grieves in different ways, and no one is expected to be more rational/less emotional. And, also yes, it's realistic that Bree wouldn't make time or headspace for everyone else's grief, or that they wouldn't necessarily dump more than their sympathies and praise on her knowing the state she's in.... BUUUUT, it is very frustrating to be a third party witnessing Bree's selfishness and the cost to her loved ones (whose safety she is totally willing to gamble!), and equally frustrating that they continue to coddle and enable her! ((OOF, I now understand the rage against Caps Locks Harry in Order of the Phoenix.))

In the vein of hypocrisy... This book seems to contradict itself a lot on the subject of inclusion:
- Any time Bree sees a black person, she assumes there's a community between them. But Samira, a black Liege, first sends Bree to a safehouse that's compromised, then to a dive bar full of demons! And Valec, the black proprietor of said bar, tries to swindle Bree into killing Sel! Bree is even assaulted by a black bartender! At no point does Bree wrestle with the idea that shared trauma doesn't necessarily bond people, because everyone has their own way of grieving. And despite her ancestors telling her, repeatedly, that she has to make her own way forward, it never dawns on Bree that her found family might be more community to her than a black stranger. If anything, Bree doubles down on exclusivity, ignoring her friends' while she eats pecan pie at some rando's house, or has a vision quest on a plantation.
- Sometimes in the series, there is a similarity drawn between the minorities who have inherited a battle against racist judgment, and the children of the conservative, feudal secret society, who have also inherited battles and unfair expectations. All are fighting against a system of violence and ignorance for the right to exist freely... But, the author seems to consistently demonize the white children. William, Nick and Sel are treated like assailants, an arbitrary, unfair line drawn between Bree's desire to learn offensive magic, and William/Nick/Sel actually taking the offensive against a foe. Sel is literally turning into a white devil over the course of the book.
- Queer Baiting. William is gay, and is mentioned in relation to three potential shipping fodders: Dylan, his boyfriend; Whitty, his apprentice; and Lark, a co-worker with a crush on him. William breaks up with Dylan, Whitty dies, and Lark gets injured and removed from the party too early for anything to blossom between him and William. So... What was the point of mentioning William's orientation, or introducing any of these potential suitors, at all? Similarly, aside from the occasional joke, the reader could easily forget that Alice is a lesbian. And Sel spends SO MUCH of the series fighting with Nick and Bree, that the potentially budding throuple doesn't feel earned or sympathetic. An elderly lesbian couple is introduced to help Bree with her Rootcraft... but it all feels too little. None of the representation is central, or even commented upon sympathetically, even though the system obsessed with bloodlines and descendants would ABSOLUTELY have been as cruel to queer children as it was to non-white children.
- Alice is a double-whammy in this book: Not only is she an example of queer-baiting, she's a tropetastic example of race-baiting. The super witty Asian best friend? Seriously?! She was a little more palatable in the first book, having her own motivations, and calling Bree out on her self-sabotage. But in this book, she is completely unrecognizable, worry free and constantly bringing Bree accessories and treats like a freaking valet! She's dead weight, a completely empty character.

Aside from themes, I can't say that this book has much going for it. It's not fun to read. I know, that sounds harsh, that a book about trauma and grief isn't fun to read? But there is a way of approaching heavy subject matter and still making a STORY around it. There are very few quotable, artistic passages in this book. No witty banter between characters. No character growth. Very little adventure, or intrigue. I can think of many YA books which deal with grief (and especially grief turned rage), where the protagonist feels alone in their suffering and pursues a vendetta against a corrupt society, all of which did more with character, tone, voice, arc, metaphor, plot twists, etc. than Bloodmarked did. What I'm saying is that there's not enough BOOK in this honking book! Very few literary devices. An almost 600 page doorstop.

There is little plot to get excited about, a protagonist I'm not invested in, deuteragonists who don't get genuine character arcs, themes about inclusion that seem to contradict themselves, and a theme about grief that suffocates all the rest of the book's development. Very ambitious, but ultimately disappointing.