Anji Kills a King: A Riveting Journey of Loss and Survival
There’s something undeniably captivating about a story that pulls you into its world with raw emotion and moral complexity, and Evan Leikam’s debut, Anji Kills a King, does just that. I was immediately intrigued by the premise—an assassin on the run who grapples with the weight of her actions—and knew I was in for a wild ride. As I turned the pages, I found myself reflecting on how often we romanticize rebellion and how seldom we consider the aftermath.
At the heart of the tale is Anji, a fierce protagonist who has just assassinated King Rolandrian of Yem, only to find herself thrust into a treacherous world, pursued by the infamous Menagerie. Each of their members embodies a different animal persona, making them as much a part of folklore as they are terrifying antagonists. The writing effortlessly immerses us in this grimdark landscape, where kingdoms falter and the notion of the greater good is overshadowed by personal vendettas.
One of the most compelling relationships is the dynamic between Anji and the Hawk, her captor, who is as formidable as she is flawed. Initially, I expected a mentor/mentee relationship akin to those found in treacherous fantasy classics. However, what unfolded was a fierce interplay of captor and captive, layered with tension and reluctant understanding. Anji’s fire often clashes with the Hawk’s weariness, presenting a stark contrast to their situations and backgrounds. As the story progresses, readers witness Anji’s realization that her act of regicide did not yield the better world she envisioned; instead, it unraveled more chaos and despair.
One quote that struck me was, “The world won’t make space for you or your ideals." This deeply resonates with me, perfectly encapsulating the bitter truth that ideals often falter in the harsh light of reality. The exploration of the lesser evil, and how even a bad king can be the more tolerable choice, adds layers of complexity that I found both refreshing and challenging. Anji isn’t the noble hero—she’s flawed, angry, and deeply troubled, which makes her journey towards understanding all the more compelling.
Leikam’s writing is visceral and haunting, with a pacing that reflects the urgency of Anji’s plight. The world-building felt intricately woven, introducing us to the desperate towns and starving citizens of Yem gradually, like peeling away layers of a fraught tapestry. I enjoyed how the magic system, infused with Maxia, hints at deeper complexities yet to unfold, leaving readers eagerly anticipating what lies ahead in potential sequels.
Even though Anji Kills a King is the first book in a trilogy, it stands strongly on its own, offering a sense of closure while teasing future possibilities. The themes of survival, morality, and the harsh truths of our actions echo long after the last page is turned. If you enjoy dark fantasy filled with ethical dilemmas and complex characters, this book is definitely for you.
Reading Anji Kills a King was not just an escape; it was an exploration of humanity’s shortcomings, the consequences of anger, and the nuances of what it means to be truly alive amidst chaos. I’ll be thinking about Anji’s journey for a long time, and I can’t wait to see where Leikam takes us next.
ARC provided by Bahar at Titan Books in exchange for an honest review—thank you for the opportunity!
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