A Marvellous Light (The Last Binding, #1)

by Freya Marske

“Who are you, come to that?” A pair of blue eyes narrowed. They were the only mark of colour in the man’s countenance—indeed, in his entire appearance. His clothes were neat, expensively tailored, but all in shades as unremarkable and drab as his dishwater hair. “I’m the Queen of Denmark,” he said, coldly sardonic. Robin clasped his hands on the desk to prevent himself from clinging to the edge of it. He was the one who belonged here, much as he wished otherwise. “And I’m Leonardo da Vinci.”

Edwin had no idea what he ached for, no real sense of the shape of his ideal future. He only knew that if every day he made himself a little bit better—if he worked harder, if he learned more, more than anyone else—he might find it.

The attack came while Robin was thinking about roast beef.

This made me snort so much

“We are man’s marvellous light / We hold the gifts of the dawn / From those now passed and gone / And carry them into the night.”

The light was giving his hair fruit colours. “Apricots!” said Robin. “Fuck,” Edwin muttered, dropping his hands. Robin covered his own mouth. He realised a moment later that he’d meant to cover Edwin’s, and laughed at his own mistake. Then he laughed more at the look on Edwin’s face.

The way i snorted at this at 1:26am

“I can try drawing one of them,” he said. “If you’ve pencils?” A nod. “I do. Now, come here and roll up your sleeve.”

So demanding first thing in the morning Edwin

“Pi sixty-seven, pi sixty-one, kappa fourteen two, beta zero one seven through nine.”

My husband has ruined me. This sounded like a nfl playcall not a spell ffs TT^TT

“Remind me not to make an enemy of you, Edwin Courcey,” he said, smiling to show he meant no sting. “I think yours is probably the kind of brain that could run a country.” Edwin wasn’t smiling, but something about the way he ducked his head suggested that he was pleased, and not sure how to handle being pleased. “That would involve people, and I’m less good with people. I’ll settle for knowing all the things I want to know,”

So if a dragon crashes through the library window in the next hour, you’ll have to save us.” “A dragon—” Edwin looked at him. Some of that irony was seeping in through the edges. Robin grinned. “You sod. You really got my hopes up.”

Theyre gae your honour

Robin realised he was staring, but he couldn’t stop. Edwin’s colourless self had taken up the white-gold of the sunlight and he looked close to ethereal, like a fairy from the book. A witch, with his familiar. Robin’s first impression was still correct. Edwin was not handsome. But from this angle, with that smile like a secret caged in glass, he had . . . something. A delicate, turbulent, Turner-sketch attractiveness that hit Robin like a clean hook to the jaw.

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, any more than it mattered that Robin’s hair shone like polished wood in the sunlight, or that he’d rolled his sleeves up past his elbows again and Edwin wanted to trace the veins and tendons of those well-cut rower’s forearms with his own fingertips, learn their textures, make a small sensory memory for himself to pull out on quiet nights in front of the fire.

Edwin.... Thst was pretty gae of you....

No, Edwin’s body couldn’t be trusted to make decisions.

Robin managed to hold his tongue on something truly unwise like You look like a Turner painting and I want to learn your textures with my fingertips. You are the most fascinating thing in this beautiful house. I’d like to introduce my fists to whoever taught you to stop talking about the things that interest you.

“Oh, don’t,” snapped Edwin, throat scratched with guilt. “Don’t go being nice, how can you constantly be like this, when it’s your arm and your visions and someone else’s bloody mess—and I made it worse—and Reggie might be dead, and here we are dancing like sodding debutantes around the fact that you might be next, and who knows what—” “Edwin. Shut up,” Robin suggested.

“Magnification,” Edwin murmured. “Like the snowflake.” “Very good, don’t care,” said Robin. Edwin could explain the damn spell clause by clause later, when they were out.

Mood robin mood

“I’m collecting near-death experiences, me,” said Robin. “Though I am giving serious thought to that suggestion about hitting you in the face.” “Oh, no.” Edwin straightened. His tone was dry. Gingerly he wiped a hand over his scratched face. “And ruin these good looks?”

Please just kiss already!!!

“Edwin,” Robin said hoarsely, and Edwin pressed blindly forward and kissed him.

FINALLY!!!!

And admission, even in his own head: I am nothing like you, and yet I feel more myself with you.

Robin stood and took Edwin’s face in his hands, raising his eyebrows. “My deepest apologies. If I promise not to crease so much as an inch of sir’s clothing, does sir think I might possibly—” “Oh, stop being an ass,” said Edwin, feeling his lips twitch.

Okay that made me chuckle

“What are you waiting for?” When it came, Edwin’s voice was a rasping whisper, prompting. “I, Robert Harold Blyth . . .” “Oh, you utter bastard. Yes. I, Robert Harold Blyth, fourth baronet of Thornley Hill, if that helps, consent to . . . ah.”

I cackled i really cackled