A Marvellous Light (The Last Binding #1)(73)

Honestly, Robin gave it another two days before he found himself demanding that they take the risk if there was the slightest chance these Coopers could get the curse off him. But he trusted Edwin’s judgement.

The rest of Miss Morrissey’s note was a dry assurance that if they were making headway then they might as well stay out of London, as there was no pressing need for Robin’s presence. The PM had left for Cardiff and wouldn’t be back within the week, so wouldn’t be needing his usual briefing.

A few more days in the library, with an extra set of books this time. It might make the difference to Edwin’s attempts. Though now Robin had his sister to worry about on top of everything else.

“Edwin,” he said. “What did Belinda mean, kinder than the alternative?”

Edwin’s face set into the coolness that meant he was trying not to react, or was worried about someone else’s reaction.

Robin said, “Don’t lie to me. Please.”

“Lethe-mint.” Edwin swallowed. “That’s what would have been in the lemonade. It’s what Charlie and Bel drank after they set the traps in the lake, so that they could play the game. So that they wouldn’t remember where any of it was.”

“And giving it to Maud was another of their games.”

A long pause. “Not really,” said Edwin. “It’s what ends up being used, most often, after an accidental unbusheling. There’s a time limit on lethe-mint’s use. After a while, the only option is casting a spell directly on the mind, and those can be—difficult. Or else letting the person keep the memory but binding their tongue to protect it. Lethe-mint is the kindest option.”

Robin was surprised at how personal his anger felt, how close to betrayal. He’d tear apart anyone who harmed his sister, of course he would, but the fact that it was Edwin defending Belinda’s actions . . . that hurt. For the past week it had been the two of them against the world. And now it was clearly Edwin’s world against Robin’s.

“So they were going to just—take her memory of all this? Let her think, what, she’d been drugged?”

“Tell her she’d been offered Champagne and drank too much of it,” said Edwin.

“And you’d be perfectly fine with that?”

“I stopped them,” Edwin snapped. “As you’ll recall.”

Robin forced himself to breathe. Some of the steam left his head. He rubbed at his face. “Yes.” He managed an ungracious “Thank you.”

“Talk to your sister,” said Edwin. “I’ll talk to mine.”

Robin had no idea, even when he opened the door to the sight of Maud sitting in the room’s single upholstered chair, how he was going to start said talk.

Then he tasted pepper, and realised the decision had been made for him in a spectacularly inconvenient fashion.

“Oh, blast,” he said weakly. He managed to stagger in the direction of the bed and—possibly—even sit down on its edge, although the vision swooped in and claimed him before he could register the sensation of sitting.

The young woman was tall, with blond hair tucked up in a fashionable nest of a hairstyle, and she wore a dark skirt with a high-collared white shirtwaist peeping from beneath a dark-red riding jacket. She held her skirts in one hand and slowly climbed a few stairs to a landing, her gloved hand trailing against the wooden panels of the wall.

She turned on the spot. She began to cradle a spell, laughing and directing a warm flash of smile at someone. Green light glowed at her fingertips with equal warmth, and then she spoke.

It was as though she summoned the pain with her silent voice. It seemed to come up from the depths, rising and rising until the vision wavered and plunged into blackness, Robin no longer a set of disembodied eyes but instead disembodied agony, perhaps a pair of lungs—perhaps a distant throat, choking. Mostly, the pain. The hot wires sinking through him again and again, slicing his flesh into burned shreds.

It ended.

Slowly, the rest of Robin’s body faded into awareness. He was panting. He opened his eyes. He was lying on the bed, on his side, his sister’s hand tight on his shoulder and her terrified face close to his.

“I’m all right, Maudie,” he said at once. He winced at the scratch in his voice. “It’s passed now.”

“What’s passed?”

Robin sat up, slow. His arms shook.

“Robin,” Maud said, looking scared and small and his, on his side; they were always on the same side. Robin couldn’t deny her anything, he’d never been able to, and he knew what she was going to say and what his answer would be. “Robin, please tell me what’s going on.”





If he’d known any of this would happen, Edwin thought, he would have turned and walked right out of the Office of Special Domestic Affairs and Complaints as soon as he saw someone that wasn’t Reggie sitting behind the desk. He could have saved himself a lot of bother.

He certainly wouldn’t be standing here having an honest-to-goodness argument with his sister and her husband. They were both giving him a surprised look, as though at a pigeon that had suddenly begun a tap-dancing routine in the middle of Trafalgar Square. Edwin finally managed to get them to agree that they wouldn’t do anything to Maud, anything, while Robin was here, and that Robin needed to stay until they’d sorted out the curse.