In her gripping romantasy debut This Monster of Mine, Shalini Abeysekara offers a tale as seductive as it is savage. Drawing from the grandeur of ancient Rome and infused with the cruelty of imperial politics, this first installment in the This Monster of Mine series delivers a blood-drenched, twist-laden narrative driven by a fierce protagonist, a sadistic antihero, and a system so broken that justice wears the mask of vengeance.
From its opening chapter—where a girl lies brutalized and barely alive on a ballroom floor—to its final gut-punch of a twist, This Monster of Mine immerses readers in a world of moral ambiguity, masterful worldbuilding, and a hauntingly intimate examination of trauma and power. Yet for all its dark appeal, the novel also stumbles at times under the weight of its own ambition, particularly in pacing and emotional consistency. Still, Abeysekara’s voice is one that marks the arrival of a compelling new author in the fantasy genre.
Plot Summary: Blood, Lies, and a Relentless Pursuit
The novel follows Sarai, an 18-year-old survivor of a vicious attempted murder that left her with magical scars, shattered dreams, and a void where memory should be. Four years later, with the aid of illusion magic and a burning hunger for justice, Sarai returns to Edessa, the Romanesque capital of Ur Dinyé, under the guise of a Candidate Petitor—magic-wielding prosecutors capable of detecting lies and probing memories.
Assigned to serve the fearsome Tetrarch Kadra—a man whose voice matches the only memory she retains of her assailant—Sarai becomes entangled in a volatile power struggle. By day, she solves cases at Kadra’s side. By night, she investigates his tower and past, desperate to determine whether he is her would-be killer or her most powerful ally.
As other Petitors die in grisly, suspicious ways, Sarai must navigate a world where truth is a weapon, justice a farce, and her growing attraction to Kadra threatens everything she thought she knew.
Worldbuilding and Atmosphere: Rich, Romanesque, and Remorseless
Ur Dinyé is a triumph of political and magical worldbuilding. The city of Edessa is divided among four Tetrarchs, whose quarters echo with systemic violence, twisted rituals, and bureaucratic dread. The judicial system, which relies on Petitors to extract truth, is both fascinating and deeply disturbing.
- The Academiae, a training ground turned graveyard for Petitors, serves as both a symbol and setting of oppressive grandeur.
- The magic system, built on blood-drawn runes and personalized armillas, is visceral, limiting, and refreshingly original.
- Religion plays a quiet but potent role, blending polytheism with saintly mythologies and divine apathy.
Abeysekara’s prose brims with lush, visual detail, steeped in menace and decay. Whether describing a stormfall ripping through the city or a mutilated body in the morgue, the writing evokes a constant undercurrent of dread that suits the book’s thematic exploration of corruption and trauma.
Characters: Monsters Wearing Human Skin
Sarai is an exceptional protagonist: flawed, furious, and forever walking the razor’s edge between hero and antihero. Her trauma is not aesthetic but foundational. Her rage is not performative but earned. She doesn’t seek redemption or peace—only answers and control.
Her arc feels like an inverse heroine’s journey: not healing but weaponizing her pain. At times, her internal monologue borders on obsessive, but it rarely slips into melodrama. Her resilience—scarred but unsentimental—echoes protagonists like Jude Duarte from The Cruel Prince and Elisabeth Scrivener from Sorcery of Thorns.
Tetrarch Kadra, meanwhile, is the embodiment of dark intrigue. Possessing a voice as hypnotic as it is horrifying, he’s every bit the monster the title promises. His cruel trials, dead-eyed calm, and impossible moral compass paint him as more than just an antihero. And yet, in quiet moments, his affection toward Sarai feels earned, layered, and unsettling.
What sets Kadra apart from typical romantasy leads is that Abeysekara never asks readers to forgive him. He is not a misunderstood prince but a calculated tyrant whose alliance with Sarai is as much strategy as seduction.
Secondary characters like Cisuré, Anek, and Cato each bring their own color and conflict to the narrative. Cisuré, in particular, shines as both mirror and foil to Sarai—a girl who walked the same path and chose submission over rebellion. Her arc is one of the book’s quietest triumphs.
Romance and Morality: Dark Hearts, Forbidden Longing
The central romance is not a love story—it’s a tightrope walk over a pit of knives. Kadra and Sarai’s relationship plays with power, danger, and desire in a way that’s often electric and occasionally uncomfortable.
Their dynamic mirrors themes explored in works like:
- Den of Vipers by K.A. Knight (for its raw, unapologetic edge)
- The Shadows Between Us by Tricia Levenseller (for its morally gray lovers)
- Ruin and Rising by Leigh Bardugo (for its exploration of monstrous love)
Abeysekara doesn’t romanticize abuse or trauma, though the line between manipulation and consent occasionally blurs. Instead, she asks what it means to fall for someone who may have once destroyed you—and what it costs to find strength in the very place you were once broken.
Themes and Symbolism: A Study in Duality
Thematically, This Monster of Mine excels in interrogating:
- Justice vs. vengeance: Sarai’s pursuit of answers is rarely clean. The judiciary system is designed more for theater than truth.
- Truth vs. illusion: With a magic system based on lies and memories, the novel constantly asks who controls the narrative.
- Trauma and resilience: The exploration of survival is unflinching and non-linear. Healing isn’t a goal—it’s a battlefield.
Religious motifs (e.g., the Elsar, Saints, and Wretched) serve as metaphors for power, judgment, and cosmic indifference. Saints are not saviors but cautionary tales; gods remain silent while mortals bleed.
Pacing and Structure: Uneven but Forgivable
For all its strengths, the novel does suffer from some structural inconsistencies:
- Pacing: The early chapters are explosive, but the middle sags under the weight of intrigue-heavy exposition. There are moments where the plot stalls in favor of interpersonal drama.
- Repetition: Sarai’s inner conflict occasionally circles without resolution, and a few confrontations (especially with Cisuré) repeat emotional beats.
- Length: At nearly 500 pages, some subplots could have been trimmed without sacrificing emotional payoff.
That said, the story’s momentum returns with a vengeance in the final quarter, delivering a climax that feels both inevitable and shocking.
Final Verdict: A Haunting Debut That Earns Its Scars
This Monster of Mine is a fearless debut that plunges headfirst into the monstrous and the divine. It is not a book that seeks to comfort—it seeks to confront, to challenge, and to bleed. With echoes of From Blood and Ash, The Poppy War, and The Shadows Between Us, Shalini Abeysekara’s novel stands tall in the romantasy canon, despite some imperfections.
Readers seeking neat resolutions or cozy relationships should look elsewhere. But those drawn to feral prose, slow-burning revenge, and morally complex relationships will find this a story worth devouring.
Abeysekara’s voice is bold and lyrical, her world lush with horror and heartbreak. This Monster of Mine is not just a title—it’s a promise. And Abeysekara delivers.
Recommended For:
- Fans of morally gray romance (The Shadows Between Us, Den of Vipers)
- Readers who love political intrigue and rich worldbuilding (The Poppy War, An Ember in the Ashes)
- Dark fantasy readers who aren’t afraid of discomfort
Not Recommended For:
- Readers sensitive to graphic violence, psychological trauma, or morally ambiguous relationships
- Those looking for a light or purely romantic fantasy
As Book 1 in a series, This Monster of Mine ends with an open door and a bloodstained blade. The sequel, This Blade of Ours, promises even darker waters ahead. And if Abeysekara keeps her hand as steady as her protagonist’s, we’re in for a gloriously gut-wrenching ride.
