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A review by alongreader
Rule by Ellen Goodlett
5.0
I enjoyed this very much; it kept me guessing for a long time, the worldbuilding was well done, and the characters were great. Of course, it ended on a horrible cliff hanger, but I'm getting used to that nowadays.
I'll be eagerly looking out for the next one. I need to know what happens to the sisters!
Receiving an ARC did not affect my review in any way.
She strode into the room to take a seat on the edge of the pool. But as she reached it, her steps faltered.
There was a blanket draped across the rocks.
It was what she and Danton used to do. Throw themselves faux picnics down here. Spread blankets at the water's edge, lie back and study the light playing across the ceiling. Then study each other in that light.
Did Danton really think she'd fall for this? Play house with him as though nothing was wrong? Curse him. She grabbed the edge of the blanket and ripped it aside, ready to throw it in the lake.
Instead, she froze, stomach curling.
Someone had painted across the rocks beneath the blanket. Black ink. No, not ink. It smelled strange. Almost like...lamp oil? Something used for starting fires, at any rate.
Or blowing up ships.
It made sense, given the message. No words. Only four numbers, more damning than any letters.
1854.
She uncrumpled the note. Stared from the blocky numbers drawn in death ink to the letter in her hand. Back and forth. This was not Danton's style. The note, the subterfuge, the cryptic numeral. If Danton meant to expose her, he would be straightforward, threaten her to her face. He wouldn't dance with her in front of the whole court, beg her to let him explain. This felt like something different. Someone different. Which, if true, could mean only one thing.
Someone else knew about Burnt Bay.
I'll be eagerly looking out for the next one. I need to know what happens to the sisters!
Receiving an ARC did not affect my review in any way.
She strode into the room to take a seat on the edge of the pool. But as she reached it, her steps faltered.
There was a blanket draped across the rocks.
It was what she and Danton used to do. Throw themselves faux picnics down here. Spread blankets at the water's edge, lie back and study the light playing across the ceiling. Then study each other in that light.
Did Danton really think she'd fall for this? Play house with him as though nothing was wrong? Curse him. She grabbed the edge of the blanket and ripped it aside, ready to throw it in the lake.
Instead, she froze, stomach curling.
Someone had painted across the rocks beneath the blanket. Black ink. No, not ink. It smelled strange. Almost like...lamp oil? Something used for starting fires, at any rate.
Or blowing up ships.
It made sense, given the message. No words. Only four numbers, more damning than any letters.
1854.
She uncrumpled the note. Stared from the blocky numbers drawn in death ink to the letter in her hand. Back and forth. This was not Danton's style. The note, the subterfuge, the cryptic numeral. If Danton meant to expose her, he would be straightforward, threaten her to her face. He wouldn't dance with her in front of the whole court, beg her to let him explain. This felt like something different. Someone different. Which, if true, could mean only one thing.
Someone else knew about Burnt Bay.