Shalini Abeysekara’s This Monster of Mine is not your average fantasy romance. It doesn’t just flirt with darkness; it waltzes into its arms, dressed in vengeance and dripping with blood. As the first book in the This Monster of Mine series, this brutal and hypnotic tale unravels a world governed by corrupted truths, arcane justice, and a protagonist whose thirst for retribution is as unrelenting as her pain.
Set against the backdrop of an ancient Rome-inspired empire, the novel refuses to soften its edges. It’s a romantasy steeped in gothic dread, one that challenges tropes rather than embraces them. Yet for all its grim layers, Abeysekara’s narrative is beautifully lyrical, propelling a character-driven story that doesn’t just ask what justice is—it dares to redefine it.
The Premise: A Lie Can Be as Deadly as a Blade
Four years after surviving a horrific assassination attempt, Sarai returns to the capital city of Edessa with one goal: uncover the truth and take vengeance on the man who nearly killed her. Now eighteen and freshly trained as a Candidate Petitor—a kind of magical prosecutor who can detect lies through enchanted armillas and truth-extracting rituals—Sarai must serve under Tetrarch Kadra, one of four brutal magistrates who rule the empire.
There’s only one problem: Kadra’s voice matches the one from her fragmented memory of the attack.
Torn between duty and suspicion, Sarai finds herself in a perilous double life. By day, she helps Kadra resolve cases using magical interrogations. By night, she searches his past for signs of guilt. But as her investigation deepens, so does her connection to the man she suspects, leading her into a web of deceit, judicial cruelty, and volatile desire.
Setting and Magic: A System as Corrupt as Its Rulers
Abeysekara builds a deeply immersive world, anchored in the harsh realpolitik of Edessa. With influences drawn from Roman law and ritual, the setting breathes through its gritty textures and institutional savagery.
- The Petitor role is particularly innovative—an amalgam of lawyer, priest, and mind-reader. Their methods are part magical, part moral theater.
- Runic magic, powered by blood and intent, is creatively constrained, lending tension to scenes where Sarai’s powers are pushed to their limits.
- Tetrarchs are less rulers than executioners. Each embodies a different brand of tyranny, and Kadra’s judicial cruelty masks a private code of honor twisted by tragedy.
The magic and politics are never mere window dressing; they are central to the characters’ psychological battles and the narrative’s moral tension.
Sarai: A Survivor Turned Hunter
Sarai is no chosen one. She is not blessed by gods or revered by prophecy. She is angry, disfigured, and dangerously brilliant. Her trauma isn’t background noise; it is her compass, her wound, and her weapon.
Her development throughout the novel is painstakingly slow, and rightly so. Healing here is not an arc but a war of attrition. She stumbles, doubts, and crosses lines she swore she wouldn’t. It is in those contradictions that Sarai feels achingly real.
Though comparisons might be drawn to protagonists like:
- Talin from The Blood Trials by N.E. Davenport
- Feyre Archeron from A Court of Thorns and Roses (especially in her most vengeful moments)
Sarai ultimately carves out her own space in the romantasy canon as a woman whose greatest strength is not her magic, but her merciless clarity.
Kadra: The Enigma Cloaked in Iron
Tetrarch Kadra is one of the more fascinating male leads to emerge from recent romantasy. His introduction oozes menace, but the novel never pretends he’s secretly soft-hearted or morally redemptive. Instead, Kadra is brutal, enigmatic, and unfalteringly rational. He is, in many ways, the empire personified.
And yet, there is an intimacy to him that creeps in, especially in scenes where he and Sarai speak not as master and servant, but as haunted equals. His growing respect for Sarai never translates into protective affection; rather, it manifests in strategic alliance and dangerous trust.
This tension makes their dynamic hard to look away from.
Romance in the Shadow of Violence
This Monster of Mine is not a love story. It is a story in which love festers in the wounds left by trauma. The romantic tension between Sarai and Kadra is palpable, but never comfortable. Their connection simmers with danger, dominance, and brokenness.
Rather than tropey flirtation, their interactions are laced with existential stakes:
- Can Sarai love a man she suspects tried to murder her?
- Can Kadra respect someone who continually defies him?
- Can attraction survive the weight of truth?
Abeysekara walks the tightrope between dark romance and emotional horror without ever losing balance. This isn’t a fantasy for those seeking safety in love. It’s for readers willing to explore how desire can coexist with fear, and how forgiveness doesn’t always follow understanding.
Literary Voice: Vivid, Brutal, and Beautifully Uncompromising
One of the novel’s greatest strengths is its prose. Abeysekara writes with a lyrical cruelty that mirrors the duality of her characters. Her style is introspective but never self-indulgent, painting violence and vulnerability with equal grace.
The following stand out stylistically:
- Sensory-rich descriptions, especially of Sarai’s emotional states
- Crisp, snappy dialogue that carries heavy subtext
- Ritualistic phrasing in magical scenes, evoking liturgy and law simultaneously
Critique: Rough Cuts in an Otherwise Sharpened Blade
Despite its many accomplishments, This Monster of Mine is not without flaws:
- Pacing inconsistencies: The middle portion drags slightly as political machinations overshadow Sarai’s personal stakes.
- Supporting character development: While Cisuré and Anek are intriguing, others remain archetypal, missing the complexity that defines the leads.
- Narrative density: There are moments when the prose tips into the overly abstract, which may alienate readers seeking a more grounded plot.
None of these diminish the overall impact, but they do create friction that momentarily slows an otherwise gripping read.
Themes: Justice, Memory, Power, and Survival
This Monster of Mine is a novel that lives in its themes:
- Justice vs. legality: What is justice in a system built on fear and manipulation?
- Memory as truth: Sarai’s lack of memory raises questions about how trauma rewrites the self.
- Power through pain: Everyone in Edessa is broken; survival means deciding what kind of scars you wear.
Abeysekara doesn’t hand answers to the reader. She hands them a scalpel and asks if they’re willing to cut deep enough to find them.
The Verdict: A Gritty, Gutsy Romantasy You Won’t Forget
This Monster of Mine is a masterpiece of character complexity and moral uncertainty. Shalini Abeysekara crafts a brutal world that is not only believable, but viscerally intimate. Her debut dares to tread where others flinch, and though not every risk lands perfectly, the overall impact is profound.
Readers who thrive on romantic tension wrapped in philosophical and magical depth will find this novel irresistible. Those needing clear lines of good and evil may want to look elsewhere.
A hypnotic plunge into the morally gray, This Monster of Mine deserves its place on every dark romantasy shelf.
Ideal For:
- Fans of slow-burn, dark fantasy romances
- Readers of The Shadows Between Us, An Ember in the Ashes, and From Blood and Ash
- Those who want romance with teeth, trials, and trauma
Less Ideal For:
- Readers sensitive to psychological manipulation or intense violence
- Those seeking upbeat fantasy with traditional HEA arcs
With This Blade of Ours looming on the horizon, Abeysekara has laid a formidable foundation. If her next installment dares even more boldly into darkness, we may be witnessing the rise of a new titan in romantasy fiction.