A Marvellous Light (The Last Binding #1)(78)

Robin, remembering that the strangeness of magic had given him whiplash long after he’d thought himself accustomed to it, lingered in the room.

“Are you sure you’re all right, Maudie?” he asked when she raised her eyebrows in clear invitation for him to leave her alone.

“You’re waiting for me to declare that I’m dying to be a magician,” she said. “You needn’t worry. Mrs. Walcott—Belinda—explained the lay of the land. And I don’t need magic. University, remember?”

“I’m taking you back to London,” Robin said. “As soon as . . .” He raised his cursed arm. Maud’s eyes softened.

“I’m sorry I barged up here,” she said. An unusual offering.

“I’m sorry it looked like—I’m sorry I was running away.”

Robin felt more lighthearted than he had in a while, as he left Maud’s room with his own guidelight bobbing above his shoulder. The things were convenient, you had to admit. Anticipation tingled within him. He undressed down to socks and shirt and trousers in the fire-warmed willow room, then knocked at Edwin’s door.

A longish pause met him before Edwin said, “Yes?”

Edwin looked over his shoulder when Robin entered. He was seated on the edge of the bed; his shirt was all the way off, and Robin had a good view of his pale back and the nearly elegant thinness of his arms. His face was a curtain rapidly drawing over an expression of wan misery, and it furrowed into apology at whatever he saw in Robin’s. He stood.

“What is it?” Robin asked.

He watched Edwin’s mouth try to form the word nothing, and fail. “I think it just hit me all at once,” Edwin said. “That I’m never going to see him again. Reggie.”

“You really . . .” Robin tried to adjust course, tried to remember the conversation about Gatling they’d had in the car. “Had feelings for him?”

A neutral twitch of Edwin’s head.

“Wanted him?”

Edwin swallowed. “He was . . . safe.”

When Robin had first been coming to terms with who he was and who he wanted, there’d been an older boy at school he’d thought of like that. A glorious, impossible, untouchable fantasy. And when Robin thought about something more than physical release, someone to be with—

But he’d never in his life let it get past the thought. For men like them, only the impossible was absolutely safe.

“I understand how that goes,” Robin said.

“Yes,” said Edwin. He was holding his own elbows. The look on his face struck Robin like the withdrawal of a knife so sharp that the entry had gone unnoticed. “I believe you actually do.”

“I’m sorry,” Robin said, feeling a heel. “I’ll go.”

“Don’t,” Edwin said quickly.

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not. You can’t. It’s extremely irritating.” Edwin stepped close, very close indeed.

“What’s irritating?”

Edwin said, “Every time you touch me it’s exactly what I want.”

Robin’s heart pounded as the anticipation took hold of him again, redoubled and delighted. He laid his thumb in the hollow of Edwin’s throat, beneath the scratched lines, his fingers light at the side of Edwin’s neck. Edwin closed his eyes and tipped back his chin. Robin could feel the movement of Edwin’s breath, the almost-shudder of his body.

“Really?”

“Yes. Exactly.” Edwin sounded cross. Robin pulled him in gently, leaned in himself. He watched the line of Edwin’s mouth, then brushed over it with his own lips, wanting to savour the moment when Edwin’s tension melted into eagerness. He slid his other hand around Edwin’s back, greedy for the expanse of bare skin. Edwin had his hands between them, unbuttoning Robin’s shirt, the softness of his mouth surrendering fraction by fraction by fraction.

As ever, there was no warning before the pain started.

“Bloody fucking hell,” Robin managed just before agony closed his throat on speech. He jerked himself away. He saw Edwin’s face, kiss-smudged mouth and naked surprise, and then crumpled to the floor as his vision greyed out and the curse took over.

What scared him the most was that when he opened his eyes again, he had no idea how long it had been. He’d actually blacked out this time. And how long since the last attack, which had overlapped with the foresight? Hours only.

“Robin.” Edwin was crouched by his side, paused halfway through a cradle.

“Ow.” Robin squeezed his eyes against tears, satisfied himself they weren’t about to spill down, and pushed himself to sit upright against the side of the bed.

Edwin lowered the string. His face was white and taut. “It’s lasting longer,” he said. “Isn’t it? I thought you might not come back from it this time.”

Robin swallowed half of his own fear in the need to reduce Edwin’s. He could at least do something for Edwin’s obvious anger at his own futility.

“Do you have anything cool?” he asked, nodding at his arm. “It’s—still feeling hot.” Another new, alarming sign. For the first time it felt as though the cage of glowing wires had burned so hot and so long that it needed time to return to normal.

Edwin nodded and created the opening loops of a spell. He cradled a swirl of subtle mist and smeared it over Robin’s arm. It was like the relief of turning one’s pillow over on a hot night.