A Power Unbound (The Last Binding, #3)

by Freya Marske

This is Elsie Leonora Mary Alston, and she is first of our line. This is John Frederick Charles Alston, and he will inherit you, one day.

Jack felt old and tired.

“The boy resists the urge to cut Hawthorn’s throat despite being daily presented with the opportunity,” said Edwin. “There should be an award.”

The Blyth siblings had the stubbornness of two people who had each adopted a stray cat with a terrible personality and were determined to have them cohabit.

“Well,” said Jack, “I have been trying to give some of it away to the ungrateful poor, but I’ve only had limited success.”

Ross shot a look at Jack that might have had alarm in it somewhere. Jack resisted the urge to inform Ross that his father only slaughtered peasants on Tuesdays.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever described Robin as subtle before,” Courcey said. “He’ll enjoy the novelty.”

Edwin Courcey would probably emerge from an exploding building with the desire to see if he could make it happen again.

“Man’s marvellous light,” said Sir Robert. “Edwin, you said it was by—Dumas? Something?” “Dufay,” said Edwin in his teaching voice. “Alfred Dufay. The song told you. Blast, I hate riddles.” “No, you don’t,” murmured Sir Robert. Edwin reached out without breaking his hungry perusal of the letter and flicked the back of Sir Robert’s hand, winning himself a smile that he didn’t notice.

but Manning continued to stare at Robin as if the sun were rising and setting in his face. Jack had never in his life felt the slightest urge to fuck Robin Blyth, but it was enough to make him briefly wonder if he was missing out on something.

Jack remained standing, deliberately radiating the impression that he was not in the habit of fetching his own furniture.

“No,” Jack said. “You can explain your brilliant plan, and what happened, to the people who love you. And you can deal with all their yelling yourself.” “Violet will yell. Robin won’t,” said Maud glumly. “He’ll look hurt and worried. It’ll be awful.” “Good,” said Jack. “You deserve it. Goodbye, Maud.” “Ill-bred cad,” said Maud, but one of her dimples popped into view and she went inside readily enough, leaving Jack standing with Ross on the street.

“Look at that. You’ve learned to use visual aids, Edwin,” said Jack. “Robin likes books to have pictures,” said Edwin evenly, and the corner of Jack’s mouth gave a twitch.

Robin and Edwin, both soaking wet and breathless with bathing flannels clinging to their bodies. Edwin in flannels looked like a tourist postcard designed expressly to make fun of the English, and his bare arms had already turned geranium-pink in the sun, but he was smiling. There was a darker pink mark at the side of his neck. Jack transferred his gaze firmly back to Robin.

Robin had a swing to his arms and a light in his eyes like he was about to suggest a brisk jog down the other side and then a nice, bracing swim. It made him absurdly attractive and also made Alan want to slap him.

Alan looked at Maud, then wondered why he’d bothered. Maud was not Robin, who could be relied upon to gently tug his partner back from flights of fancy. Maud had a look on her face like she would cheer Violet on and then make cheese toast over the embers.

“Unless it’s to be a pile of books you’ve no interest in, I’m waiting for you to request something,” he said. “Make me a snowflake,” said Robin. Some of the laughter found its way onto Edwin’s mouth, and then out into the air. Even now, Jack could count on one hand the number of times he’d heard Edwin Courcey laugh. “All right,” said Edwin.

I’m screaming and crying and sobbing because I love them so so very much.