Read A Witch Alone (The Winter Witch Trilogy #3) for Free Online Page A

pulled it off. I found myself blushing furiously and glanced at my grandmother, hoping she hadn’t noticed.
    Luckily she was preoccupied with her cutlet, but before she could raise the fork to her lips the telephone on her desk shrilled out.
    ‘Oh, how vexing.’ She sighed. ‘Hello? No, don’t worry, Miss Vane, that’s fine. Yes, I see. Still, it can’t be helped. Yes, of course. Five minutes.’
    She put down the receiver with an irritated click and turned back to me and Marcus.
    ‘I’m sorry, my dears, this can’t wait. Please eat and, if Franklin comes to clear, tell him to take my plate.’
    She hurried out and Marcus and I were left looking at each other. He raised the bottle. ‘Wine, Anna?’
    ‘Yes, please.’ I felt I’d probably need it.
    There was silence for a moment as he filled our glasses and then raised his.
    ‘Well, to echo your grandmother – to family.’
    ‘To family,’ I said. The wine was bitter and caught at the back of my throat and I coughed. I was half expecting him to challenge me – to ask me about what I’d been doing in the archives. But he said nothing, only sawed meditatively at his cutlet. When he raised a mouthful to his lips he made a face.
    ‘Ugh, cold.’ He let his hand hover over his plate and I averted my eyes. It wasn’t any different to microwaving your dinner to warm it up, not really. But Maya’s frugality with magic had rubbed off. I could never imagine myself using my power so casually.
    I put a piece of cutlet in my mouth and chewed, but it seemed to stick in my throat. I couldn’t relax – I wanted to run after my grandmother and force her to explain. Who was this man? Why was a Corax eating food with us? And – most puzzlingly of all – why had he helped me, twice now? I owed him – and I didn’t like it. And I didn’t know why.
    ‘I knew your mother, did you know that?’ Marcus’ voice broke in on my thoughts. My fork clattered to my plate as he took a mouthful of lamb and chewed thoughtfully. ‘Only as a very small child of course. But my mother died when I was two and Isabella was very kind. She’d been close to my mother, so she understood my grief when my mother died and she comforted me. God knows my father didn’t, so I suppose I clung to her in lieu of any real parent. I missed her, after she left. I still do.’
    I found myself staring at this stranger, who must have grieved for my mother as I never could. Then I dropped my eyes.
    ‘How awful. I’m so sorry.’
    ‘I never knew what happened to her.’ He looked away, at the fire, his face unreadable. ‘I knew that she’d disappeared with your father and that no one had been able to trace her from there. She became a taboo subject around here, completely unmentionable. The one who’d done the unthinkable: put her outwith lover before her family and her duty. But I never forgot her. I always hoped that she might come back. As did you, I’m sure.’
    ‘N-no …’ I said uncertainly. ‘I never did. At least …’
    At least, not exactly. But the more I found out, the more I realized there was no reason for my mother to have killed herself. I didn’t hope that she would come back, but I had started to hope – what? That I could find her ?
    ‘You’re very like her,’ he said abruptly. ‘That’s one thing I remember clearly – how beautiful she was.’
    My cheeks flared up again, as scorching hot as the flames of the fire at my side. I dropped my eyes to my plate and fumbled taking a sip of wine. My hand shook and drops spilled on the cloth like a bloodstain.
    ‘Damn,’ I said under my breath, scrabbling for a napkin. ‘ Damn .’
    ‘Anna …’ Marcus put his hand over my wrist. For a moment we were motionless, his warm brown eyes locked on mine. Then I pulled my hand away and the wine drops were gone, the cloth flawless white again.
    ‘See?’ He gave a charming smile. ‘No use crying over spilled wine.’
    ‘Marcus,’ I said desperately,