“I look at my hands. These are the hands of a murderer. Ilam is wrong. I haven’t killed only once. I’ve killed ten times already.

What’s one more count to the list?”

In a world filled with complex politics, meddling priests, and kingdoms built on faith and devotion, The Scarlet Throne by Amy Leow is a dark fantasy which explores the intricacies of the thirst for power and status. This is unapologetically a fascinating portrayal of one woman embracing the villain within her.

Rashmatun, the Goddess of Wisdom, sits upon the Scarlet Throne granting mercy and dealing punishment to her people. Binsa is the Rakhti, the vessel of Rashmatun and through her power she is a living goddess. Only Binsa harbours a dark and damning secret. It is not Rashmatun who she harbours, it’s the demon, Ilam. As Binsa’s time as Rakhti is growing closer to its end and a new vessel, the child Medha is chosen, Binsa desperately does not want to relinquish her power. With priests watching her every move, prophecies coming to fruition and people losing faith, Binsa finds herself on the brink of losing everything. So she makes a deal with the demon, a deal that will see her sacrificing lives and perhaps her own humanity. 

Being inside the head of a villain was quite thrilling to be honest, if a little disturbing as events spiralled. It’s in the way Leow creates Binsa’s first person narration, we see her ambition, her deep desire to remain in power and keep the respect she’s given but we also learn why. Binsa’s vulnerability is made clear through her inner thoughts, the sheer trauma of her past, the confusion between reality and falsehoods and that’s what made me feel compassion towards her, at least to begin with. Binsa has been through so many horrific ordeals, from being a starving young child to having a mother who inflicted a world of suffering on her for many years in the quest for her own ambitions to make Binsa a Rakhti. At the beginning of the novel Binsa struggles with using blood magic having seen first hand how it affected her mother, knowing the lives she would have to also take. Yet as the novel progresses we see her make excuse after excuse, convincing herself that the sacrifices she makes are all justifiable. Is Binsa merely a product of her mother’s cruelty? Has the demon, Ilam, corrupted and influenced her thoughts so detrimentally? Or is this the real Binsa, is this all of her own doing? These are the things we, alongside Binsa, question and this makes her such a great unreliable narrator. I’m not fond of characters who are evil for the sake of being evil, nor for shock value. I love to  understand a character’s mindset, why they are the way they are, and I think Binsa’s conflicts and motivations are presented well throughout. 

“This is the view of a deity, standing high above the world.

Ilam lifts our arms. His power surges through me once more.

Purple smoke coalesces at my fingertips.

“Now,” he says, “we become a god.”

My pulse quickens. Ilam’s smoke curls into the sky, beckoning the clouds to come. Here I am, standing above Bakhtin, IIam’s power thrumming in my veins. This is it.”

Leow explores the notion of gods and goddesss in such fascinating ways. Deities by their very nature inspire fear and awe in equal measures, they give people someone to believe in, someone to pray for better days to but they also give people someone to blame. This is shown here in the way people come to see ‘Rashmatun’ to share their grievances and ask her to grant them their wishes but when tragedy strikes they also come to question why she allowed it to happen. Were they not devout enough? Is her power waning? Should a new Rakhti—a vessel—be found? Once the people’s faith begins to waver, the deity loses power and Binsa is all too aware of this. As are the priests, and so Harun, the priest of Ghanatukh temple, seeks to undermine Binsa at every turn, to dispose of her and let her become another past vessel who fades away. Leow shows us that in this cut throat world it is not only Binsa who lusts for power but priests also desire to keep their influence over a nation, the priests are just as corrupt. 

Not every character in this novel is so morally grey though nor are they all trying to manipulate Binsa, some genuinely care for her. There is Ykta, Binsa’s brother, who was very much just a victim of their mother too. Yet Ykta had more opportunities when he was taken in by a wealthy family and received an education. That advantage took him away from Binsa but also brought him back to her and he desperately tries to help her at every turn. Their relationship is fragile, messy and portrays how generational trauma causes such a vicious cycle. There is also Chandri, the Rakhti before Binsa, and though we only get fragments of Binsa’s memories with Chandri, we discover that she was the first person to ever show Binsa kindness and warmth. We then have Medha, a sweet, curious and innocent child who is chosen to become the next Rakhti and is trained by Binsa. Medha was a child who you cannot help but love and Binsa herself discovers this too. Medha serves to show a softer side to Binsa, a side that is capable of affection, sympathy and even nurturing. Which just makes the ending of this book all the more devastating.

It seems villain story arcs are having their moment to shine right now and The Scarlet Throne is an excellent example of a compelling, dark descent into the worst parts of human nature. With Binsa, Leow certainly creates a character you’ll never forget. 

“Ilam cackles in delight. He loves it when I truly become a goddess, when none can defy me and all must bow to me.

Even I have to admit I enjoy the feeling.”

Arc provided by Nazia at Orbit Books in exchange for an honest review—thank you for the copy! 

The Scarlet Throne is available now, you can order your copy on Bookshop.org