Tag: retellings

Circe goes YA in this unapologetically feminist retelling of the Medusa myth steeped in Indian mythology, a YA epic fantasy addition to the Rick Riordan Presents imprint.

All monsters and heroes have beginnings. This is mine.

Sixteen-year-old Manisha is no stranger to monsters—she’s been running from them for years, from beasts who roam the jungle to the King’s army, who forced her people, the naga, to scatter to the ends of the earth. You might think that the kingdom’s famed holy temples atop the floating mountains, where Manisha is now a priestess, would be safe—but you would be wrong.

Seventeen-year-old Pratyush is a famed slayer of monsters, one of the King’s most prized warriors and a frequent visitor to the floating temples. For every monster the slayer kills, years are added to his life. You might think such a powerful warrior could do whatever he wants, but true power lies with the King. Tired after years of fighting, Pratyush wants nothing more than a peaceful, respectable life.

When Pratyush and Manisha meet, each sees in the other the possibility to chart a new path. Unfortunately, the kingdom’s powerful have other plans. A temple visitor sexually assaults Manisha and pushes her off the mountain into a pit of vipers. A month later, the King sends Pratyush off to kill one last monster (a powerful nagin who has been turning men to stone) before he’ll consider granting the slayer his freedom.

Except Manisha doesn’t die, despite the hundreds of snake bites covering her body and the venom running through her veins. She rises from the pit more powerful than ever before, with heightened senses, armor-like skin, and blood that can turn people to stone. And Pratyush doesn’t know it, but the “monster” he’s been sent to kill is none other than the girl he wants to marry.

Alternating between Manisha’s and Pratyush’s perspectives, Sajni Patel weaves together lush language, high stakes, and page-turning suspense, demanding an answer to the question “What does it truly mean to be a monster?”

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When guests arrived, Sita shooed Manisha and Arya behind the lattice walls, into a secret hallway between the grand hall and the wall facing the kitchens and residences. Manisha frowned but didn’t argue. After all this time, she still couldn’t interact with guests. It didn’t matter. She didn’t like socializing anyway.

She covered her head with her jade-tinted dupatta, slipping into the cool recesses. The latticework inner wall allowed the girls to view the grand hall while remaining hidden from guests.

“Who do you think is here that’s so important?” Arya asked, nearly poking her nose through a swirl-shaped hole in the marble wall. Billowing light from the hall cut through the carvings, covering her in an illuminating pattern of light and shadow.

“Why do you ask that?” Manisha countered, peering through the carved holes.

“Sita only hides you away when there’s someone important, or had you not noticed?”

The giggles of younger girls in the hidden hallway reverberated off the walls, their bare footfalls padding away as Arya shushed them. At least someone was having fun. Sita never bothered to use the darkened walkways, so this was probably the only place where the girls could play without being scolded. Manisha was tempted to join them, to run again, to laugh, and to let go of the shackles of proper etiquette.

A hush fell over the girls, drawing Manisha’s attention back to the hall.

Three guests entered the main room like giants, faces hardened, postures rigid, and bodies sculpted by brutal battles.

Manisha picked up on two pairs of soft, bare footfalls trekking across cold floors, and one pair of footsteps so muted, they were nearly imperceptible.

An apsara led the trio to offer prayers at the innermost shrine, the shadowy door inside the crystal pikes.

The apsara told them, “It is said that the ancient ones were born during the creation of the Akash Ganga. From the great sky river came both devas, the wise ones, and asuras, the monsters which you slay. The ancient ones came to us from the glimmer of faraway stars to battle the asuras who had escaped the faraway darkness. I suppose you must have a connection with them, since you battle on our behalf.”

Two men nodded with an acquiescent hum, but the third was silent.

They knelt on red-and-gold pillows in front of the central altar. The light cast from the diya sprayed against the contours of their faces, sharpening the angles of their jaws like a fine blade. The quiet one, the tallest of the three, was just a boy.

Many boys had visited over the years, typically sons of noblemen and diplomats, even royalty—cousins of princes, mostly. They escorted their families. This one, however, arrived with commanding officers dressed in formal uniforms. Maybe he was the son of a famed commander?

Manisha was so focused on the guests that she startled when a strange magnetic pull drew her attention to the boy. A sense of curiosity. She wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Flustered? Annoyed? Guarded? All three?

Arya clutched Manisha’s wrist and pulled her away, whispering, “Don’t get distracted by boys.”

“I—I would never,” she muttered. “Who is he?”

Whispers and excited conversations bubbled around them as all the girls glued themselves to the carved gaps to watch.

“They call him Pratyush. He’s a famous warrior.”

Manisha scrunched her brows, confused. “But he’s just a boy.”

Arya shrugged. “All warriors start out as boys. This one must be strong. The men he’s with look like commanders, so he must be important.”

Manisha intended to look away but couldn’t seem to move.

The boy was handsome. Broad-shouldered with long black hair, the top half of which was tied back. So young and yet so commanding. Everyone flocked around him as if he were the most important person in the hall. The men he was with, the apsara at his beckoning, even Sita and the Head Priestess had come to greet him. More than that? He was allowed to light the prayer diya, an act reserved for the highest-ranking men and the apsara.

Instead of leaving the delicate holder on the altar as most would, he picked it up and… broke it. The fragile clay shattered in his hands.

A look of shock crossed his face… and just about everyone else’s. The girls behind the wall gasped, their eyes bulging as the centuries-old antique crumbled in his palms.

Had any of the girls broken something so precious, Sita would’ve exiled them, kicking them off the floating mountains with nothing more than the clothes on their backs.

What would she do to this famed warrior boy?

Sita’s face flared red, her lips pressing into a tight line. She fell to her knees to collect the destroyed remains from the floor.

Manisha cracked. A bubble of laughter tore through her. She immediately covered her mouth.

Arya shot her an incredulous glare, as if she’d been personally offended. Manisha cleared her throat. Only to end up cackling. She hadn’t laughed since she’d arrived at the temple. She, in fact, didn’t think laughter was even permitted by Sita.

Sita’s look of horror and utter disbelief, tangled with the inability to do a single thing, was a moment to behold. But add a commanding warrior gaping at his mess like any other awkward boy… well, Manisha couldn’t help it.

She was now covering her mouth with both hands, cackling up a muffled storm.

Her laughter must’ve escaped because Sita glared daggers of wrath at the lattice wall. All the girls took three careful steps away from Manisha.

The boy, whose face had been flustered, went from embarrassed to indifferent as he, too, looked at the lattice wall splattered with Manisha’s laughter.

Sita, the Head Priestess, and the host apsara had gathered every last speck of the broken diya holder, reverently holding the pieces in their hands. The commanders shook their heads, rattled. Yet all they did was give the boy a pat on the back as if saying, This is why we can’t have nice things.

“We should get to the kitchens to help with supper,” Arya whispered, ushering the younger girls out of the walkway before they suffered Sita’s wrath.

Manisha knew she should go, too, but she was rooted in place, unable to remove her stare from the boy. He kept glancing at the lattice wall. There was no way he could possibly see her, not with how the marble carvings had been designed to conceal persons in the recesses. But his intense focus made her question if he could.

She walked to the end of the hallway. Yet, when the boy looked up, his gaze immediately found her. She walked back, toward the entrance. Again, he found her. How was this possible?

When the prayers ended, the warrior boy meandered toward the sweets. A table and a wall were the only things separating them. He picked up a diamond-shaped kaju katli, made from the pistachios growing in the courtyard and dusted with edible silver.

He popped the entire sweet into his mouth and glanced over his shoulder. Then he dragged his gaze across the lattice wall until his eyes landed on Manisha. She stilled in the shadows.

He had the strangest-colored eyes, lavender and poetic. Such a stark contrast against dark brown skin and the harshness of warrior-worn clothes.

“It’s not nice to laugh at someone, you know?” he said, his voice scratchy. He couldn’t be older than sixteen.

How could he pinpoint her so easily?

“I know you’re there,” he added, the corner of his lips tipping upward. Suddenly, he seemed less like a grumpy warrior and more like a regular boy. “I smell your rose oil hair perfume and hear the crunch of a leaf under your foot.”

She scowled, not having felt anything beneath her steps. But when she gingerly lifted her left foot, there it was… a leaf.

How…?

From RICK RIORDAN PRESENTS: A DROP OF VENOM by Sajni Patel. Copyright © 2024 by Sajni Patel Reprinted by permission of Disney • Hyperion Books. All rights reserved.

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Sajni Patel is an award-winning author of women’s fiction and young adult books. Her works have appeared on numerous Best Of the Year and Must Read lists from Cosmopolitan, Teen Vogue, Apple Books, AudioFile, Tribeza, NBC, Insider, and many others.

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My thoughts: Medusa meets Indian mythology sounds like an odd mix but works surprisingly well in this YA fantasy about men and monsters.

Manisha is a nagin, an ancient line descended from goddesses with an affinity to snakes. After her people are almost wiped out, her family send her into hiding. Forced to pretend to be a faithful temple servant, she encounters a young man, Pratyush, a renowned monster killer, who just might be her destiny, or her fate?

After a terrible incident ends with her broken and blooded, thrown out from the temple, Manisha vows to find her family. Aided by a snake sidekick, Noni (the cuddliest giant serpent ever), she heads in the direction of home, making new friends along the way.

Pratyush is also on a journey, and when the two paths collide, decisions must be made.

I really enjoyed this book, I loved Manisha, she’s a wonderful protagonist. I liked playing spot the Greek mythology mixed in with the Indian, and the way the two very different cultures had been blended so well. The tiny hint for what’s to come in book 2 has me excited already!

*I was kindly gifted a copy of this book in exchange for taking part in the blog tour but all opinions remain my own.