I have a problem with YA trilogies, and it is that so often, so many of them peak in the first book of the series. I love The Hunger Games, for instance, but I think it is undeniable that the first book is leaps and bounds better than the vaguely repetitive Catching Fire, or the unrelentingly depressing Mockingjay. 
 And after reading Red Glove, I was convinced that the Curse Workers series would go the same route - I'd finish the series because I was so in love with White Cat, but it'd be more out of a sense of duty than anything else. The antagonist in White Cat turns out to be Cassel himself. I'm a sucker for a good twist like that, and I was enchanted by the world that Holly Black built (magic workers as the mafia? Sign me up). Red Glove was, narratively, a bit more of a mess, and it was much more focused on the whodunnit mystery of Philip's murder. Black Heart returns to the introspective promise of the first book in the series, and the main conflict here is who Cassel will choose to be. True, Black might hit us over the head with her message - using Mina Lange to represent Cassel's choice was, in my opinion, a clumsy way of summing up the conflict of the story. I much preferred the subtler revelation of Cassel's connection to (view spoiler)[ the Raeburns. (hide spoiler)] But it was an entertaining ride throughout, and I genuinely wasn't sure what life Cassel would choose in the end. 
 And I was sincerely thrilled by the resolution to Cassel and Lila's angst-fest (oftentimes, YA romantic subplots get way too hand-wringy for me). Cassel's internalization of the acts he'd committed feel like realistic hang-ups, and his revelation of how much they affect him still actually made me ache to read. Lila's stoicism makes it just as hard for readers as it is for Cassel to understand where she's coming from, but when she comes clean, it unfolds with a feeling of inevitability, of "ah of course, we should have known all along," and that's what I want in my stories. 
 Secondary characters like Barron, Daneca, and Sam are given room to develop, but Black leaves a little more for readers to wonder about when they close the book. I can easily envision another book from Barron's point of view; there is a line in the book when Cassel says Barron watches him with hesitation, as if waiting for Cassel to say something cruel, and it is moments like those that jolt me with the realization of how solipsistic the books actually are. (I hope I used that word right.) 
 Overall, Black Heart proved that not all YA trilogies have to end in disappointment, and although I fell in love with the explosive revelations of White Cat, I'm also willing to dig in for the quieter ending of Black Heart.