This kind of book that sweeps you into a misty, salt-soaked fever dream, then leaves you blinking at the real world like you just stumbled out of a gothic painting. I dove into this expecting a lush, monstrous romantasy, and oh, did it deliver… mostly. It’s a haunting swirl of beauty and yearning, but it’s not without its stumbles. Buckle up, because I’m about to gush, gripe, and get a little snarky about this flower-threaded horror show.

First, let’s talk about the vibes. This book is *dripping* with atmosphere. Clipstone paints a coastal village so vivid I could practically taste the sea spray and feel the chill of the salt mines. The world building, with its chthonic gods and ritualistic weirdness, is straight up intoxicating. I’m a sucker for gothic anything, and this delivered in spades: crumbling manors, misty shores, and a swan god.

Lacrimosa (Lark, bless her) is our leading lady, and such a soft, tender soul. Not a “stab first, ask questions later” heroine, but a girl wrestling with betrayal, family duty, and a past that’s messier than my high school diary. Her journey from broken to brave had me cheering, especially when she’s navigating her tangled feelings for Alastair and Camille Felimath. Alastair, the arrogant ex-heartbreak, is all sharp edges and tortured devotion… catnip for my hopeless romantic side. Camille, his alluring older sister, is a warm, grounding force who made me want to curl up in her lap with a cup of tea. The polyamorous dynamic here is refreshing, never dipping into love triangle clichés. It’s messy, human, and so beautifully written I was giggling and kicking my feet at their chemistry. Like, can I join this trio? Please?

But here’s where I get a bit snarky. The pacing? Oof. The first 60% of the book moves slower than my mom in Wal-Mart. I kept waiting for the plot to kick into gear, and when it finally did, I was hooked… but that lag had me checking my phone more than I’d like to admit. Also, while the prose is gorgeous, it can feel repetitive. Clipstone loves her floral metaphors, and by the third “petal-strewn” description, I was like, “Okay, we get it, it’s pretty!” The world-building, while stunning, left me craving more meat on the bones of the chthonic gods’ lore. Therion’s Zeus-like swan-god shtick is cool, but I wanted to know *why* he’s such a big deal beyond being hot and ominous.

It felt a tad rushed, like when you’re late to a party and speed-run the goodbyes. I wanted more time to linger in the fallout.

Anyway, all in all, this is a dark, dreamy treat for anyone who loves gothic romance with a side of folk horror. While the pacing issues and a few overused phrases keep it from five-star glory—but it’s got heart, soul, and enough yearning to make you clutch your chest. I’m still swooning over Lark, Alastair, and Camille, and I’ll always be front and center for a good poly relationship.