Verdict: The definitive sapphic “I am supposed to kill you” romance — a servant plotting assassination and the artificial noblewoman she is sent to serve, written with real prose and real political weight — undercut by a romance that a meaningful minority says never catches fire.
Best for: Readers who want enemies-to-lovers where the enemies genuinely intend murder, who like oppression politics and revolution stakes, and who do not need heat on the page.
Heat level: ★★☆☆☆ (2/5 — no romance.io entry; young adult, and readers describe longing and restraint rather than content)
Rating: ★★★★☆ (3.9/5 — a 4.09 Goodreads average across 55,876 ratings, with a persistent complaint that the romance under-delivers)
Tropes: Enemies-to-lovers, assassin turned handmaid, forbidden across a species divide, oppression and revolution, slow burn, dual POV, morally grey nobility, arranged betrothal, court intrigue, duology opener.
Crier’s War is Nina Varela’s debut and the first half of a duology from HarperTeen — a 464-page sapphic fantasy set in the kingdom of Rabu after the War of Kinds, where the Automae, alchemically Made to be the playthings of royals, now own the estates of the humans they were built to amuse, and Ayla, a human servant climbing the ranks of the House of the Sovereign, is working toward one goal: killing the Sovereign’s daughter, Lady Crier, in payment for her own murdered family.
It holds a 4.09 average across 55,876 Goodreads ratings and 4.5 on Amazon, making it the most-read young adult title we have reviewed. Seventy-seven per cent of Goodreads ratings sit at four stars or above. But there is a coherent 22% below that line, and their objection is not about the writing — it is that they came for a sapphic love story and did not find one. Both halves of that split are worth understanding before you start.
What Is Crier’s War About?
This is young adult fantasy in its political-allegory mode, and the world is doing a specific piece of work. The Automae were Designed as objects — ornamental, owned, built for the amusement of the people who commissioned them — and they won. Now they hold the estates and the humans serve. That inversion means the book’s central relationship is not simply cross-class; it is between a person and something that was legally property and is now the ruling caste, which gives every scene between them a second layer.
Ayla is introduced through purpose rather than lack: she has a plan, a target and a reason, and everything else about her is subordinate to it. Crier is the inversion — Made to be beautiful and flawless and to inherit her father’s rule, and quietly discovering that she was built with a flaw nobody intended. The book runs dual POV, and the structural pleasure is that the reader watches Ayla plan a murder while sitting inside the head of the woman she means to commit it against.
What Makes This Sapphic Enemies-to-Lovers Fantasy Work
- The enemies are actually enemies: The most-cited strength. “A TRUE slowburn angsty enemies to lovers where they’re REAL ENEMIES who want to KILL EACHOTHER” is a direct quote, and it is the thing this book does better than almost anything else on our shelf.
- The prose: Varela is repeatedly praised for line-level craft — the quotable lines get quoted, and “It was never really a choice, was it? Wanting her. Killing her” appears in review after review.
- The politics: Corruption, oppression and revolution treated as the subject rather than the backdrop, with betrayals that keep re-sorting who is on which side.
- Crier herself: A protagonist who was manufactured to be perfect and is discovering she is not, inside a betrothal to a man with plans of his own, is a genuinely fresh position for a YA heroine.
- The audiobook: Kim Mai Guest narrates 13 hours 38 minutes, and it is stocked on Libro.fm rather than being an Audible exclusive.
Book Synopsis
The War of Kinds is over and the wrong side won. The Automae — Made by human alchemists to be beautiful, tireless and owned — rose against the families who commissioned them, took their estates, and settled into rule as though they had always held it. In the kingdom of Rabu, humans now serve in the houses their grandparents built.
Ayla serves in the House of the Sovereign, and she has spent every year since her family was killed making herself useful enough to get close to the one Automa she intends to destroy. Lady Crier is the Sovereign’s daughter, the heir, and the reason Ayla still has a reason to get up. The plan requires patience, access and a complete absence of feeling, and Ayla has managed all three for a long time.
Crier was Made flawless. She is preparing to inherit her father’s rule, and she has been betrothed to Scyre Kinok, a man whose politics are considerably more ambitious than his manners suggest. What she has not told anybody is that something in her own design is wrong — that she notices things an Automa should not notice and wants things an Automa should not want. When Ayla is assigned to her personally, the two of them begin the slow, mutually suspicious business of working out what the other actually is. Neither of them can afford the answer. The question the book is really asking is what happens to a revolution when the person you were going to kill for it turns out to be the only one telling you the truth.
My Review
The thing this book does better than almost any sapphic fantasy I have read is take “enemies” literally. The genre has hollowed that trope out — most enemies-to-lovers is two people who are mildly rude to each other for eighty pages — and Varela restores the stakes by giving Ayla a plan, a motive and a real opportunity. Readers respond to it in capital letters, and they are right to. When Crier finally understands what has been standing next to her, the reveal has consequences precisely because the intent was never softened.
The second strength is the prose, which is not what you expect from a debut. Varela writes lines that people copy into reviews, and the recurring one — “It was never really a choice, was it? Wanting her. Killing her” — is doing the whole book’s work in eleven words. The political material is handled with the same care: this is a novel about ownership, manufactured people and who gets to be considered a person, and it takes that seriously without stopping to explain itself.
Where it struggles is the romance, and this is the dominant complaint rather than a minority taste. A two-star reviewer puts it exactly: “The romance didn’t burn me. The intensity of the whole revenge/war/hatred/love was so lacking even though everything was there all along.” Another is blunter — there was no chemistry between the girls and barely any romance, and she came for the sapphic love and got none. That is 22% of ratings at three stars or below, on a book marketed almost entirely on its f/f relationship, and the objection is coherent: the ingredients are assembled and the reaction does not always happen.
The related criticism is pace. More than one reader describes a long book in which very little happens, and the same two-star reviewer notes the total absence of humour — 464 pages of unrelieved gravity is a real ask. The counter-argument, made just as often, is that the intensity is the point and the slowness is the burn. Both readings are defensible; which one you land on depends almost entirely on how much you enjoy Varela’s sentences.
So calibrate on what you are here for. If you want a sapphic political fantasy about oppression, revolution and two women who genuinely intend each other harm, this is one of the best in print. If you want the romance to be the engine and to pay off physically, it is not that book, and 55,000 ratings have not made it one.
My honest note: The best-executed murderous-longing premise in sapphic YA, attached to a romance that some readers never feel. Read it for Varela’s sentences and the politics; treat the love story as a slow, cold-burning bonus.
| Element | In Crier’s War |
|---|---|
| Central relationship | Ayla & Lady Crier — a human servant planning an assassination and the Made noblewoman she is assigned to serve |
| Core tropes | Enemies-to-lovers, assassin turned handmaid, forbidden across a species divide, revolution politics, slow burn |
| Setting | The kingdom of Rabu after the War of Kinds — Automae rule the estates, humans serve in them |
| Heat level | 2/5 — longing and restraint; young adult |
| Series | Crier’s War book 1 of a completed duology — ends on a cliffhanger; Iron Heart finishes it and rates higher |
| Content notes | Murder of a family, slavery and ownership of manufactured people, class oppression, violence, coercive betrothal, self-harm imagery |
How Spicy Is Crier’s War?
romance.io has no entry for this book, which is exactly what you would expect — that database catalogues adult romance, and Crier’s War is young adult published by HarperTeen. The absence is informative rather than a gap in our research: it tells you the book is not being read or shelved as a romance in the first place.
Deriving from the publisher’s age band and reader reports, it lands at 2 out of 5 — longing, restraint, one or two charged moments and nothing explicit. The readers who complain about the heat are not asking for spice; they are asking for chemistry, which is a different and more damaging criticism. If you are coming from adult romantasy, calibrate all the way down. For the nearest comparisons on this site, A Crown of Deceit & Ruin sits at 2/5 with a similar deception premise, and Gideon the Ninth at 1/5 for pining with no payoff at all.
Who Should Read This Book?
You’ll likely love it if: you want enemies-to-lovers where one of them is actively planning a murder, you read for prose, oppression politics and revolution interest you more than romance beats, and a completed duology appeals.
You may want to skip it if: you need on-page heat, you need to feel the chemistry rather than be told about it, 464 pages with no humour in them sounds like work, or you want a book where a lot happens.
In short: a beautifully written political fantasy with a romance that lands for four readers in five — and the fifth is loud about it.
What Readers Are Actually Saying (August 2026)
This is the largest readership of any book we have reviewed: 55,876 Goodreads ratings and 8,017 written reviews, plus a completed sequel with 30,221 ratings of its own. It arrived with HarperTeen’s backing and an ARC campaign, it was a fixture of sapphic book Tumblr and BookTok in 2019 and 2020, and the audiobook — 13 hours 38 minutes, narrated by Kim Mai Guest — is stocked on Libro.fm rather than locked behind an Audible exclusive.
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Why readers love it (according to the discourse): The enemies, first and loudest — readers use capitals to describe a slow burn where both women genuinely want the other dead, and treat it as the standard the trope should be held to. Second, the prose: reviewers quote lines back rather than describing scenes, which is the reliable signal that the writing is the draw. Third, the world — alchemically Made people who overthrew their owners is called inventive by the same reviewers who go on to criticise other things. Fourth, the political layer: corruption, oppression and revolution, described by one reader as a clear-eyed interrogation of power. The minority view worth flagging is from readers who found the romance perfect precisely because it is restrained — for them the tension is the payoff.
What readers argue about and complain about: The romance, above everything, and the mechanism is chemistry rather than content. One two-star reviewer states that the romance did not burn her and that the intensity of the revenge, war, hatred and love was lacking “even though everything was there all along” — which is a precise diagnosis of a book whose components are correct and whose reaction does not always occur. Another says flatly that there was no chemistry between the girls and barely any romance, having come for exactly that. Second: pace. Readers describe a long book in which very little happens, with the plot arriving late. Third, and unusually specific: the total absence of humour. Four hundred and sixty-four pages of sustained gravity is named as exhausting by more than one reader. Fourth: the world system is called simple by readers who expected more from the premise. The genuine split is between readers who read for atmosphere and prose, who rate it four and five, and readers who read for the relationship, who do not.
The series question everyone should ask first: Crier’s War ends on a cliffhanger that reviewers describe as wanting a time machine to get past — but the duology is finished. Iron Heart completes the story, and it rates higher than book one at 4.20 across 30,221 ratings, which is unusual and suggests the payoff readers wanted arrives in the second half. If the romance is what you are worried about, the sequel is where most readers say it finally lands. Read them together.
Frequently Asked Questions
Is Crier’s War a good Fourth Wing read-alike?
For the enemies-to-lovers tension and the rebellion politics, yes — it is the strongest sapphic version of ‘I am supposed to kill her’ in print. It has no dragons, no academy and almost no heat, so it matches two of the four Fourth Wing pillars rather than all of them.
How spicy is Crier’s War?
A 2/5. romance.io has no entry because the book is young adult rather than adult romance, and readers describe longing and restraint rather than on-page content.
Does Crier’s War end on a cliffhanger?
Yes, and reviewers describe it as painful. The good news is that the duology is complete — Iron Heart finishes the story and rates higher than book one at 4.20 across 30,221 Goodreads ratings.
Why do some readers say the romance in Crier’s War does not work?
The complaint is about chemistry, not content. One two-star reviewer writes that the romance ‘didn’t burn me’ and that the intensity was lacking ‘even though everything was there all along’ — the components are correct and the reaction does not always happen.
Is there a Crier’s War audiobook?
Yes. Kim Mai Guest narrates 13 hours 38 minutes, and it is available on Libro.fm rather than being an Audible exclusive.
Is Crier’s War young adult?
Yes, published by HarperTeen. Both leads are teenagers, the content stays within YA bounds, and adult romantasy readers should calibrate their heat expectations down accordingly.
If You Loved Crier’s War, Read These Next
The Jasmine Throne runs the same empire-and-servant power imbalance for adult readers with more heat, A Crown of Deceit & Ruin matches the 2/5 band and the deception premise, and Gideon the Ninth is where to go if unresolved murderous devotion is exactly your thing. The full ranked list is in our guide to sapphic books like Fourth Wing, with more in enemies-to-lovers lesbian romance and our book reviews.
The Bottom Line
Crier’s War sets out to be a political fantasy about manufactured people, ownership and revolution, with a love story built on genuine murderous intent, and it delivers three things: enemies who actually are enemies, prose good enough that readers quote it, and a world whose central conceit does real thematic work. What it does not reliably deliver is chemistry, momentum or a single moment of levity across 464 pages — and one reader in five says so directly. Read it for the sentences and the politics, and go straight into Iron Heart. Check Crier’s War on Amazon →
The Eikna Overall Ranking
On the Eikna scale, Crier’s War ranks as a major sapphic young adult political fantasy — beautifully written and structurally uncompromising about its enemies, constrained by a romance that does not ignite for every reader and by 464 humourless pages, and best approached for the prose and the revolution rather than for the love story.
The Evidence Scorecard
Overall ★★★★☆ 3.9/5
- ✓ 4.09 average across 55,876 Goodreads ratings
- ✓ 4.5 on Amazon; largest readership on this site
- ✓ Prose and premise praised near-universally
- ✓ 22% at three stars or below on the romance
Romance ★★★★☆ 3.9/5
- ✓ Both women genuinely intend the other harm
- ✓ Assignment forces daily proximity with a target
- ✓ Reveal lands because the intent was never softened
- ✓ A vocal minority reports feeling no chemistry
Characters ★★★★☆ 4.2/5
- ✓ Crier written as a manufactured woman discovering a flaw
- ✓ Ayla’s purpose organises everything about her
- ✓ Kinok is a genuinely unsettling antagonist
- ✓ Secondary cast thin next to the two leads
Writing ★★★★☆ 4.3/5
- ✓ Readers quote lines rather than summarise scenes
- ✓ Debut praised for line-level craft
- ✓ Political material handled without exposition dumps
- ✓ Not one moment of humour in 464 pages
Emotional Impact ★★★★☆ 4/5
- ✓ A murdered family drives the whole plot
- ✓ Ownership and personhood treated as the real subject
- ✓ Betrayals keep re-sorting the alliances
- ✓ Long stretches where very little happens
Heat Level ★★☆☆☆ 2/5
- ✓ No romance.io entry — not shelved as romance
- ✓ HarperTeen young adult, both leads teenagers
- ✓ Longing and restraint rather than content
- ✓ Readers wanting chemistry are the ones disappointed
Ending ★★★★☆ 3.7/5
- ✓ Cliffhanger described as painful and effective
- ✓ Duology is complete — no waiting
- ✓ Iron Heart rates higher at 4.20
- ✓ Nothing resolves inside this volume
Re-read Value ★★★★☆ 4/5
- ✓ 13 hour 38 minute audiobook by Kim Mai Guest
- ✓ Stocked on Libro.fm, not an Audible exclusive
- ✓ Reveals read differently on a second pass
- ✓ Slow pace makes a reread a commitment
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