Who hasn’t been ruled by a tyrant and secretly wanted to assassinate them? I mean to say: Being someone who landed smack-bang in that particular era of Zimbabwean history that included a tyrant, I have—been ruled by a tyrant, that is, not the assassination part. In the real world, of course, for those so motivated, executing an attack on a tyrant wouldn’t be as easy as becoming a laundry worker in the castle and getting the opportunity to slash his throat; but that’s why the wonderful world of fiction exists—to witness a character’s wish fulfillment without wading through actual gore (or, like, undergoing imprisonment and possible execution).

It’s a delightful journey on which Evan Leikam takes us in Anji Kills a King. Throughout the novel, Anji is something of an anti-hero, unfortunately: immature, obnoxious, and frequently frustrating. She thinks she knows everything she needs to know. Life is black and white for her, and her act of killing the king is definitely, in her opinion, on the white side of things: He was a bad person who caused suffering and deserved to die. She also thinks she has better skills than she actually does, perhaps because she’s just killed a king. Alas, for Anji, this is not the case. True to the workings of coming-of-age tales, Anji’s arc is about to take her in painful ways from a juvenile know-it-all to a young woman with an inkling that the world may, after all, not be something she can manipulate at will. Only, she’ll have to go through life-threatening tests and trials to learn this.

Anji Kills a King is populated with a colourful cast of characters. There’s Anji herself, of course, our not-so-lovable protagonist. We barely get to meet the king, which doesn’t matter to the story as he’s done away with very quickly. But when Anji flees the scene of her crime, she’s pursued by a league of five bounty hunters, the Menagerie: fearsome, larger-than-life heroes who wear magical masks and may have more-than-human powers. These are my favourite characters: complex, terrifying, somewhat unhinged, and completely single-minded.

Then there’s the world Leikam has created for Anji and her fellow characters, which is the best thing about this novel. They are denizens of Yem, on the continent of Makona, whose capital is Linura, where Anji the Kingkiller commits her crime. There are two religions, one in the ascendant: The Order of Inheritance is the older one, with nine gods who abandoned the world to mortals, while the newer One Path has nakedly power-hungry political ambitions. It’s a world that feels ripe for change—a possible uprising that will not, however, come through the new religious order.

This Tolkienesque (or, perhaps more accurately, GRRM-esque) level of worldbuilding has me hopeful for subsequent novels and the expansion of the storyworld. (There are hints that this is the first in what may be a series). Anji Kills a King, however, is satisfyingly complete, and doesn’t at all end on a cliffhanger. I appreciate this, although publishers may not: I imagine they want to see lots of loose ends so as to make sure readers are left frustrated at the end of a novel (see: me still waiting for Winds of Winter, although I’ve actually given up). As a reader, I much prefer what Leikam has done so well here: leaving enough room for the story to expand, while allowing this novel to stand on its own.

So these are the themes in Anji Kills a King: justice and vengeance; loyalty; bereavement and grief; religion; magic; and government and rebellion. The novel doesn’t set out to make any huge statements, or to sermonise about the ethics of assassinating kings, despite possible (fantastical) applications in today’s fraught world. In that sense, this is a very simple tale in the tradition of storytelling as entertainment: Anji does a thing, which results in a journey through a magical world that’s very unlike ours, by the end of which she is changed.

I must make clear that I don’t really believe in killing kings; I will, however, generally cheer when fictional kings are killed, because nothing good ever comes from thrones. I am, though, on the side of justice for the downtrodden, as most of us are, and I think that’s why Anji is immediately a sympathetic character for readers—no matter her reasons for what she did. The novel, too, has clear allegiances: Disability, for instance, is very well depicted, not treated in any special or awkward way, but simply as a fact of life and something that can happen to any character.

Throughout, Leikam’s writing style is very concise, and distraction-free. He excels at building up mind-pictures, useful for any fantasy author. His descriptions of the land of Yem are evocative without feeling like they’ve been written for film—an unfortunate failing of lots of modern SFF, where many writers are dreaming of that film deal as they write. Leikam is also excellent at building up his characters: At one point, for instance, he has Anji and one of the other characters examine both Anji’s motives and the consequences of her actions; in fact, the whole novel is, for Anji, really about the finding-out part of FAFO. While this level of interiority is largely reserved for Anji (another reason you, too, will likely find her obnoxious), Leikam writes all of the other major characters with sufficient clarity for us to begin to understand their motivations (at least, by the end of the novel).

Anji Kills a King is fairly light reading as far as fantasy goes, but Anji’s world is nevertheless a violent one. There’s plenty of murder, and not just the assassination. There’s also drug use: Rail is a powder that eventually has devastating consequences for users (a welcome thing for the prudish former healthcare worker in me, who thinks modern entertainment is entirely too casual about the effects of the use of drugs). There’s also an elaborate structure of gangs, not expanded upon much in this novel except in one stupendous scene, but which hopefully will be explored further in the future.

More things I hope for in a sequel: a map of the world and the fleshing out of Anji’s backstory. By the end of Anji Kills a King, this latter aspect is still a bit of a mystery. We don’t get to learn what Anji likes, if she has any hobbies, if she plays an instrument, or anything similar that might tell us more about who she is. This makes sense for this novel, since she’s on the run for most of the book; but I have hopes, as I say, for more in a sequel.