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

stiff, away down the corridor.
    When she’d gone I turned to Bran.
    He lay under the sheets and his body was as thin and frail as a ten-year-old child’s. It was impossible to believe that this was the same man who, just a few months ago, had been hobbling around his island kingdom, fishing off the rocks, cackling and swearing and imposing his will on everyone.
    Now he lay completely still, his skin sunken around the bones of his face, his clawed hands slack against his chest. There was rheum around the edge of his mouth and at the corners of each eye. As I watched he seemed to shiver and I saw his eyes move restlessly beneath the paper-thin lids. Then he gave a gusting, weary moan that made my heart wring.
    ‘Seth …’ It was almost impossible to make out the word, but I caught it – just a whimper, the sound of someone keening for their lost child.
    ‘Oh Bran,’ I couldn’t help it. The words slipped out and I took his fragile old hand and pressed it to my cheek.
    ‘Eh … ?’ He gave a croaking sigh and his eyelids opened. I let his hand drop and steeled myself for his reaction, but it didn’t come. His filmy eyes searched the room. ‘Who’s there? Elaine?’
    ‘No, no, Bran.’ I leaned closer, so that he didn’t have to strain to see me. ‘It’s me, Anna. Elaine said that you were asking for me.’
    ‘Asking … yes, I was asking. For my grandson. Do you know him?’ His voice was piteous. ‘Do you know my grandson, Seth?’
    ‘Yes.’ My throat hurt. ‘Yes I know him.’
    ‘He’s a good boy,’ Bran said with a weary sigh and the ghost of a smile cracked his lips. ‘The sins of the fathers … but he’s a good boy. And who’re you, again?’
    ‘I’m Anna.’
    ‘No you’re not.’ He lifted his head from the pillow, shaking with the effort, and for a moment his eyes were as piercing as before and the grey flashed an impossible fire. ‘I know you, I know you!’
    ‘I’m Anna,’ I repeated. ‘Anna Winterson. I go – I used to go out with Seth.’
    ‘I did you wrong.’ His hand suddenly clutched mine. ‘Didn’t I? When I turned you away. And you turned your vengeance on me, with your curse.’
    ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I said uneasily. His grip was hard, his nails digging into my skin.
    ‘You poor bitch, God knows your load was heavy enough, and I should have helped you, you and your child, but your curse took everything from me, everything. My life, my livelihood. When you crippled me, did you know what you did? I know it was aught but what I deserved, I know that now.’ His breath reeked on my face. ‘But don’t make my grandson pay for my mistake. Don’t pass the curse to him, I’m begging you.’ Tears flooded suddenly from his eyes, running down the lines graven in his cheeks. ‘I’m begging you!’
    ‘Bran, I don’t know what you mean!’
    ‘Say you won’t,’ he wept. ‘Don’t harm my grandson. And for my part, dear God in heaven I’m sorry – every day since, I’ve rued the night I spat at your feet and turned you away into the night. But don’t harm my Seth!’
    ‘I won’t!’ I said, bewildered but desperate to comfort him. ‘I promise I won’t – I love him. I love Seth. I’d never hurt him.’
    ‘Eh?’ He blinked and seemed momentarily confused, then he sighed. ‘Oh, aye.’ He gave my hand a feeble squeeze and lay back against the pillow. ‘Child, I’m sorry.’
    ‘Sorry?’
    ‘Aye, sorry. Sorry can’t undo the wrong I did your mother, I know, but that lies a score of years back.’
    ‘My mother?’ I found I was standing, my breath coming fast. ‘Bran, who do you think I am?’
    ‘Who are you?’ His eyes shifted from side to side and then he frowned. ‘Aye, who are you? Where’s my daughter?’
    ‘She’s gone for a coffee, but Bran –’ I found I was nearly weeping ‘– you said something about my mother. Did you know my mother?’
    ‘Know her?’ His eyes welled with tears. ‘No. I met her but once. And