A Witch Alone (The Winter Witch Trilogy #3) by Ruth Warburton Read Free Book Online

she’s still here but she needs to go home. Is there anyone who can let her in? OK, no problem. Thank you.’
    He put the phone down and began searching for something in a stand on the wide oak desk.
    ‘There’s a spare key apparently – should be … Aha! Here we are.’ He held out my coat, helped me into it, and then began shrugging into his own jacket.
    ‘Are you going home too?’ I asked, stifling another yawn.
    ‘No, I’m walking you. No!’ He held up a hand. ‘I know what you’re going to say, but it’s very late and I’m – well, old-fashioned. Humour me.’
    ‘I used to make my own way home through London all the time,’ I protested. ‘I think I can manage a stroll through Knightsbridge.’
    ‘I said, humour me.’ He took my elbow. ‘Anyway, how will you find your way out of here?’
    OK. That was a good point.
    Marcus led me through a warren of corridors, rooms and chambers, until we came to a small panelled door between two potted palms. When he opened it the chill, damp smell of the river wafted out. I stepped through and found myself stumbling on to the hard concrete of a pavement beside Hyde Park.
    The night was cool and the streets were still unbelievably busy. It was hard to believe that it was getting on for eleven. There were more people out and about than in Winter town centre on a Saturday morning. Marcus took my arm and we walked along the dusty pavement past Harrods, beautifully brash in the darkness, towards Kensington Road.
    ‘Where do you live?’ I asked, more to make conversation than anything.
    ‘I’m up at Cambridge at the moment,’ he said. ‘Christ’s College. But it’s the Easter vac so I’m staying with my father. He has a flat just off Piccadilly.’
    The phrasing struck me; the way he said ‘I’m staying with my father’ rather than ‘I’ve come home’. I couldn’t ever imagine just staying with Dad.
    ‘Do you …’ I paused, suddenly not sure if I was overstepping the mark. ‘Do you get on with your father?’
    ‘Frankly? No.’
    Something in Marcus’ voice made me glance up at him, trying to see his expression, but he was facing down the street, not looking at me. His profile, in the shifting gold light of the street lamps, was uncompromising and I could see his brows were drawn into a deep frown.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ I said meaninglessly. He let my arm drop and rubbed his forehead, as if trying to smooth away the frown into something more sociable.
    ‘Truly, don’t worry, Anna. It’s no secret. My father’s old and for a long time he’s considered himself the most important member of the council, though by tradition there’s no hierarchy among the Chairs. I’m his only son – his only child in fact – and he’s beginning to recognize the fact that his Chair will, one day, pass to me, no matter what he does to prolong his life. And that fact is causing … tension. For both of us. He wants my support, but he wants it unconditionally, without listening to my opinion and, frequently, without telling me even what I’m supporting. And I won’t do that.’
    ‘Marcus …’ I gulped. This was a leap in the dark. Maybe a suicidal one. ‘Did you know your father tried to recruit me? That he threatened to kill my family?’
    ‘Yes, I do know that – now.’ He looked at me, as if trying to read my reaction. I kept my expression as even as I could. I didn’t want the murderous hatred I felt for Thaddeus Corax to spill out between Marcus and me. ‘But I didn’t at the time,’ he said. ‘Your grandmother was very angry when she found out and she kicked up a huge dust at the council meeting. I’m very sorry – if I’d known …’ He took my arm again as we crossed the road.
    ‘It’s OK.’ I’d never forgive Thaddeus Corax, but I didn’t see why Marcus should be punished for his father’s actions. ‘But why did your father want to recruit me so badly? It’s something I’ve never worked out.’
    ‘I don’t know.’ He looked