Medieval horror with a side of cannibalism and some seriously unhinged vibes? Yes, please, my bread and butter. The Starving Saints delivers on that promise, but while it hooked me at first, it didn’t quite stick the landing for me.

Aymar Castle has been under siege for six months, and everyone’s starving. You can feel the desperation dripping off the page, when you know things are about as dire as debating mass layoffs of life (heh). Enter the Constant Lady and her Saints—mysterious, godlike figures who show up out of nowhere with feasts and miracles but no wagons or trunks or horses in sight. Appeared during a siege as if out of thin air. It’s creepy and intriguing, and I was all in for this dark fairy tale vibe.

There are three women at the heart of the story: Ser Voyne, the war hero (serious Brienne of Tarth vibes with her, I was constantly seeing Gwendolyn Christie in my head); Phosyne, the paranoid ex-nun-turned-sorceress (admittedly, I was only seeing Madam Mim, which made for some laughs); and Treila, the vengeful serving girl who used to be a noble girl before her father supposedly commited treason.

As the book went on, it started feeling like a fever dream that didn’t know where it was going. The magic and madness got so trippy that I was lost half the time, and not always in a good way.

By the end, I was left with mixed feelings. It’s bold and weird, and I respect that Starling went for it. But the pacing dragged in spots, and the payoff didn’t hit as hard as I’d hoped. It’s like I was starving for a big, satisfying bite, and instead I got a handful of crumbs. If you’re into dark, messy horror with a sapphic twist and don’t mind some (or maybe a lot of?) confusion, this might be your jam. For me, it was a creepy, uneven adventure that I liked but didn’t love.