A Marvellous Light (The Last Binding, #1)

by Freya Marske

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.

this awareness of their common nature—in a way that had nothing whatsoever to do with magic—hung delicate and unspoken between them as they left the room.

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

There you are. I’ve been waiting for you. Only the impossible was safe. This was merely implausible, and that made it dangerous. But Robin could die tomorrow, or next week; the curse could writhe up his neck and burn his mind out with pain, or someone with fog for a face could take his arm on a busy street and decide to finish the job.