Megan Bannen’s debut adult romance, The Undertaking of Hart and Mercy, arrives like an unexpected gift—wrapped in the dusty robes of a fantasy adventure but containing the beating heart of a romance that refuses to be categorized. This isn’t your typical enemies-to-lovers tale, nor is it standard fantasy fare. Instead, Bannen has crafted something rarer: a story that uses its fantastical elements not as window dressing, but as a mirror reflecting the very real human struggles of loneliness, miscommunication, and the terrifying vulnerability required for genuine love.
The World That Breathes Magic
Set in the mysterious realm of Tanria—a former prison for ancient gods turned dangerous frontier—Bannen creates a world that feels both familiar and utterly unique. The magical wilds beyond the Niebla (Mist) pulse with genuine menace, populated by drudges—reanimated corpses infected by lost souls—that serve as more than mere monsters. They represent the very real fear of death that haunts both our protagonists and the frontier town of Eternity.
The worldbuilding never overwhelms the emotional core of the story. Tanria exists to serve the characters, not the other way around. From the cheerfully macabre funeral parlor of Birdsall & Son to the austere marshal stations, every location reflects the personalities who inhabit them. Bannen’s background as a former librarian shows in her careful attention to detail—the way Leonard the dog spreads fur across velvet chairs, the specific mechanics of how drudges function, the economics of a frontier funeral business competing with corporate interests.
Characters That Defy Convention
Hart Ralston enters the story carrying the weight of heroic expectations. He’s tall, powerful, potentially immortal—everything a romance hero should be on paper. Yet Bannen immediately subverts these expectations by making him fundamentally, endearingly human. His loneliness isn’t brooding and mysterious; it’s the specific, crushing isolation of someone who has never learned how to connect with others. When he writes his first letter “To A Friend,” it’s an act of desperate hope rather than calculated charm.
Mercy Birdsall could have been another overworked, underappreciated heroine waiting for rescue. Instead, she’s the beating heart of her community—someone who takes over the family business not out of duty but out of genuine love for both her family and the work itself. Her profession as an undertaker isn’t played for gothic atmosphere; it’s a calling that requires both technical skill and emotional intelligence. Bannen never lets us forget that Mercy is literally keeping her world running, one funeral at a time.
The supporting characters avoid the trap of existing merely to facilitate the main romance. Penrose “Pen” Duckers, Hart’s young apprentice, serves as both comic relief and emotional catalyst without ever feeling like a plot device. The Birdsall family—patriarch Roy, sister Lilian, and brother Zeddie—create a warm, chaotic household that makes Hart’s isolation even more poignant by contrast.
The Art of Epistolary Romance
The novel’s central conceit—anonymous letters between two people who loathe each other in person—could have been merely cute. Instead, Bannen uses it to explore something more complex: how we perform different versions of ourselves depending on our audience. Through letters, Hart becomes the man he wishes he could be—thoughtful, articulate, vulnerable. Mercy responds not to his reputation or appearance, but to his words, his thoughts, his carefully revealed heart.
The dramatic irony builds deliciously as readers watch these two circle each other, falling in love twice—once through letters, once in person—without recognizing the connection. Bannen manages this extended miscommunication without making either character seem obtuse. Their blindness feels genuine because it reflects how we often compartmentalize our relationships, unable to see the full humanity in people we’ve already categorized.
Romance with Real Stakes
What elevates this beyond typical romantic fantasy is how Bannen grounds the relationship development in genuine external stakes. The increasing drudge attacks aren’t just action sequences; they reflect Hart’s growing willingness to risk himself for others, particularly Mercy. The business rivalry between Birdsall & Son and the corporate Cunningham funeral home isn’t mere subplot; it forces Mercy to fight for her family’s legacy while navigating her complex feelings for Hart.
The novel’s treatment of physical intimacy deserves particular praise. When Hart and Mercy finally come together, it feels earned rather than inevitable. Their chemistry builds through small moments—shared glances, careful touches, the way they learn to read each other’s moods. The actual love scenes balance heat with emotional vulnerability, making their physical connection feel like a natural extension of their growing emotional intimacy.
Minor Stumbles in Paradise
Despite its many strengths, the novel isn’t without flaws. The pacing occasionally suffers in the middle act, particularly during Hart’s training sequences with Duckers. While these scenes establish important character relationships, they sometimes feel disconnected from the central romantic tension. The mystery surrounding the increased drudge activity, while thematically relevant, could have been developed more fully—certain plot points feel rushed toward the resolution.
Additionally, some secondary character arcs feel underdeveloped. Zeddie’s brief stint as an undertaker, while providing comic relief, doesn’t quite serve the larger narrative as effectively as it might. The revelation about Cunningham’s business practices, while satisfying, arrives a bit too conveniently to feel entirely organic.
A Voice Worth Following
Bannen’s prose style deserves special mention. She writes with a clarity that never sacrifices personality for accessibility. Her dialogue crackles with genuine wit—Hart and Mercy’s verbal sparring feels natural rather than forced, and their gradual shift from antagonism to affection tracks beautifully. The author has a particular gift for creating moments of unexpected humor that never undercut the emotional weight of a scene.
The novel’s treatment of grief and loss adds unexpected depth. Hart’s complicated relationship with mortality—he doesn’t know if he’s immortal—reflects real anxiety about purpose and legacy. Mercy’s work with the dead isn’t morbid but celebratory, honoring lives lived and families left behind. Death isn’t the enemy here; isolation is.
Looking Forward: Series Potential
As the first book in what appears to be a planned series, The Undertaking of Hart and Mercy succeeds in establishing both a compelling world and a satisfying standalone romance. The hints at future couples—particularly the intriguing dynamic between secondary characters—suggest Bannen has more stories to tell in this universe without relying on cliffhangers or unresolved plot threads. The next installments, The Undermining of Twyla and Frank and The Undercutting of Rosie and Adam, will be interesting to read.
Books for Fellow Adventurers
Readers who enjoy this blend of fantasy and romance might consider exploring Martha Wells’ The Murderbot Diaries for another take on an isolated protagonist learning to connect, or Katherine Addison’s The Goblin Emperor for similarly gentle fantasy with strong emotional resonance. For more traditional fantasy romance, Ilona Andrews’ Kate Daniels series offers comparable worldbuilding with romantic development, while Sarah Hogle’s contemporary romances share Bannen’s gift for witty dialogue and authentic character development.
Final Verdict: Love Conquers All (Genres)
The Undertaking of Hart and Mercy succeeds because it never forgets that the best fantasy serves the story, and the best romance serves the characters. Bannen has written a novel that will satisfy fans of both genres while transcending the limitations of either. It’s a story about finding connection in unexpected places, about the courage required to be vulnerable, and about the transformative power of being truly seen by another person.
This is a debut that announces a writer to watch—someone who understands that the most powerful magic isn’t found in ancient spells or mystical creatures, but in the alchemy that transforms two lonely people into something stronger together. In a genre often criticized for its formulaic approaches, Bannen has crafted something genuinely fresh: a love story that earns its happy ending through character growth, emotional honesty, and a willingness to let its protagonists be gloriously, messily human.
The undertaking of Hart and Mercy isn’t just a clever title; it’s a promise that love requires work, courage, and the willingness to risk everything for the chance at genuine connection. Bannen delivers on that promise with grace, humor, and surprising emotional depth.