Told in first person, the unending petulance and arrogance of Medea's tone quickly became monotonous. I felt little compassion for her and felt even less of a journey in her from being raised as a princess to becoming a witch of the death god -- she speaks as if youth and naïveté were alien concepts, though she assures us it wasn't always so.
Then an inexplicable narrative change; Jason becomes the narrator. After the confusion it helps the read, for his accounting of things at last brings some sense of agency to the book. He's on a mission at least. As for Medea I have no idea what she wants.
And that is where the book really falls apart. Like the legend, she falls for him. But that very fact is so out of character for the woman in this book that the author herself used Jason's own narrative to cover that part because its too unbelievable a transformation for her voice to admit to.
And what about her actual magical powers, fueled by the death goddess Hecate herself? What a cheap way for the author to skirt around morality and real psychology. A genuine fantasy novel would at least have some sense of order or reason to govern the supernatural. In this novel though it just felt shockingly out of place and cheapened any potential development.