Spun (12 page)

“Anja,” Tillz said, never taking his gaze of Werner. “I will protect you.” He spoke just loud enough for her to hear, and his voice was so tender, so comforting, Anja could scarcely reconcile it with the violence and hatred he had earlier displayed.

“Suit yourself, whelp,” Werner said, reaching into his coat. He whipped out a knife, pointed it at Tillz, and took a step toward him. “It’ll just give me the pleasure of killing you both.”

“
You will never touch her,
” Tillz snarled as he lunged at Werner.

Anja watched in horror as the scene played out in slow motion. The men were upon each other. Tillz brought his hand up in defense just as Werner brought the knife down in a quick arc, stabbing Tillz through his upraised hand. Without pausing, Tillz ripped the knife from his flesh. Giving no sign of pain and showing no reaction to the gush of blood that followed. He punched Werner once with his bloody fist, then, roaring, drove the knife into Werner’s throat. Anja screamed as Werner clawed uselessly at the knife, his eyes bulging, his tongue popping out of his mouth.

“You … will … never … touch … her,” Tillz panted.

Werner slid to the ground. He clutched at the knife still plunged into his neck, and made horrible rasping sounds as he tried to draw breath. Then all noise and motion stopped. Werner lay immobile, his unseeing gaze seeming to bore a hole right through Anja. She felt confused and weak; she could hardly make sense of what she was seeing.

Tillz stood staring at Werner’s body for several seconds, then grabbed him by an arm and leg, hoisted Werner up across his shoulders, and carried him from the cottage. Outside, Anja heard Werner’s carriage door open, then the soft
thud
of a body hitting the seats. She heard Tillz give the horse a slap as he yelled “go!” and the horse taking off at a gallop. And then Anja heard no more as she fainted into a heap upon the floor.

* * * *

“Anja, please ,Anja, come back to me.”

Anja’s eyes fluttered open. She struggled to get up, to remember where she was and what had happened. Strong arms held her, stopped her movements. They were on the floor, Anja cradled gently in his lap.

“Tillz,” she said, her voice breaking.

“Shh,” Tillz said as he ran a hand gently down her arm. “Just lie still for a moment.”

“I… You…” Anja couldn’t seem to hold a thought. “You came for me.”

“Of course I did. How could I not?”

“But … but how did you know I needed you?”

Tillz shifted, turned away from Anja’s gaze. “I tried to stay away. I tried to accept that what we had in the cottage, those three nights, would be all we’d ever have. I knew once you were free, once you didn’t need me anymore, that you … that you couldn’t … not with someone like me…”

“Oh, no, Tillz! How could you think…?” Anja tried to sit up.

“Shh … you must stay still.” Tillz brought a bandaged hand up to Anja’s face, gently tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “I could not stay away completely,” he continued. “Much to my shame, I couldn’t leave well enough alone. I had to make sure you were safe.” Tillz hung his head, his shaggy forelocks obscuring his eyes. “I watched you, just to know you were truly unharmed. Just to know Werner hadn’t come back. I was just coming to your cottage when I heard him…” Tillz broke off, swallowed hard. “Your scream . I didn’t know if I would reach you in time”

“Werner. He was the one who … your parents…” Anja lifted Tillz’s head, lightly touched the jagged scar that ran along his face.

“Yes.” It was barely a whisper. “I didn’t connect it when you were first taken by him. It was so long ago—I was just a boy. And Werner had been just a young thug then, not the person he is—was—now. I have been away so long … I didn’t remember.” Tillz pulled Anja tighter to him. “My God, I would have never left you in that cottage alone if I had realized it was him!”

Anja pulled away from Tillz, slowly rose to her knees in front him. “It doesn’t matter now. He is dead, right?” Anja tried to remember everything clearly, her mind was still slightly muddled. “He came at you, and you stabbed him, and now he’s dead.” Anja shook as the images came back to her.

A look of anguish crossed Tillz’s face. “I hate that you saw what I did. But the rage … when he threatened you, when he said he’d kill you…” Tillz tensed. “The anger and terror and panic that consumed met”

Anja couldn’t stop herself from reacting to the violence in his voice, and it must have showed on her face.

“Anja, my
schatzchen
, I would never harm you,” Tillz said, his voice softer but strained, as though he was willing himself to be calmer. He reached for her, hesitated just before he touched her, and Anja saw that his outstretched hand trembled slightly.

“I know you would never hurt me, but your face, when you stabbed Werner … I have never seen anything like it.”

“I am sorry. I know I frightened you, but I could not let him touch you. I would do anything to keep you safe. Anything.”

Tillz pulled Anja back into his lap and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned into him, comforted by his nearness, his strength. She breathed in his scent and a calmness took over her. She was safe. The mill, her father’s debts, Werner, none of it mattered, nothing was insurmountable when she was in Tillz’s arms.

“I didn’t think I would ever see you again,” Anja said. “The last night we were together—” Anja felt a fiery blush creep up her cheeks at the same time a warmness pooled in her belly at the memory of it. “I felt you pull away from me. When you left the cottage that last time, I was sure you were gone forever.”

“It seems we were both acting the fool.” Tillz cupped Anja’s face between his hands, leaned into her. “When I brought you the gold the first time, I convinced myself I only wanted a kiss. But I quickly realized I wanted it all. Your body. Your mind. Your soul. Your firstborn child. Everything you are and everything you have to give. You are an intoxicating spirit, and I am greedy to drink every last drop of you.”

He kissed her. At first, it was only a light brushing of lip and against lip. Impatiently, he drank of her more deeply. Anja pulled him closer, feeling the familiar burning that settled into her limbs whenever he touched her. She was panting, aching with the need of him.

“Anja, marry me. I cannot bear to be without you.”

“Yes,” she said, barely breathing. “I will marry you. Everything I have to give is yours. Forever.”

Epilogue

Anja hopped lightly over a small puddle in the street. The warmer temperatures of spring had turned the snow into icy rivulets of water coursing through the village, though it was a mess no one minded. The change of season was heralded everywhere around her, in the bluebells and daffodils peeking up from the cold ground, to the chirping of the birds in trees just beginning to bud. It was as though the outside world was just now experiencing the awakening she had been experiencing over the last several months.

She passed her father’s cottage, and instinctively peered through the window to see if he was inside, even though she had just left him at the mill and knew the cottage was empty. He would be working for several more hours until all the sacks of grain were milled and the equipment was cleaned and the floors swept. Anja had wanted to stay with him. She was finished with the ledgers and accounts but she had wanted to keep him company while he worked. Gregor had seen her weariness, though, and had sent her home.

Anja smiled to herself as she thought of the change that had come over Gregor since the autumn. It had been three months since he had been to the tavern or quaffed a pint or placed any wagers. It hadn’t been easy. He had struggled to give up his vices once Anja had been freed, and had succumbed to temptation several times. He was growing stronger in his abstinence, though, his eyes were clearer, his complexion healthier, and he no longer shook with the all-consuming need for a drink. It would always be there, of course—the pull, the desire. But Gregor was stronger and healthier every day, and Anja was there to help him any way she could.

Anja walked past a few more cottages until she came to the small timber-framed house she shared with Tillz. As she walked up the stone path to the door, she saw large boots resting against the doorjamb, covered in mud, and she smiled knowing Tillz was home.

As soon as she stepped inside, a strong arm snake around her waist, and she was pulled into Tillz’s hard chest. He slipped a hand under her chin, angled her face up toward his, and pressed his lips to hers. Anja circled her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her at the same time she stood on tiptoes, trying to get their bodies as close as possible, wanting to be enmeshed. She marveled at how his kiss made her feel. Every time with Tillz was like the first time, every touch scorched her, every kiss made her quiver. She would never become accustomed to him, never would his presence near her become ordinary or mundane.

“I missed you, wife” Tillz said, his breath ragged against her cheek.

“I missed you too, husband.” The word, while still strange on Anja’s tongue, sent a thrill through her.

“You look tired. Has Gregor been working you too hard? You haven’t been hauling sacks of grain, have you?” Tillz’s voice was tinged with worry.

“No,” Anja said, resting a reassuring hand on his arm. “I have been seeing to the bookkeeping only, as we agreed.”

Tillz nodded, appeased. After the wedding, he had wanted her to leave the running of the mill entirely to Gregor. Tillz had been consumed with thoughts of the myriad of ways harm could come to Anja, and he was desperate to protect her from all of it, no matter how unlikely the occurrence. She could wrench her back hauling grain, he insisted, or get the skirts of her
dirndl
caught and then be crushed between the runner and the bed stones. She could get in the way of the paddle wheel and be dragged into the stream and drowned. The grain dust could catch fire, as it was wont to do, and she could be trapped inside the burning mill. Tillz’s face had become ashen as he had imagined more and more outlandish ways she could be maimed or killed, and she had had to stop his increasingly panicked recitation with a kiss.

She had assured him she would confine herself to keeping the numbers. It was what she was best at, and what Gregor had the most trouble with. It would allow her to still see Gregor every day, as she no longer lived with him after moving out of his cottage and into a house with Tillz. It would also allow her to stay active and keep her mind engaged, and as she pointed out to Tillz, keeping the ledgers and accounts was hardly dangerous. Tillz had reluctantly agreed.

“Have you been busy this afternoon?” Anja asked, wanting to turn his attention away from the idea of hypothetical catastrophes befalling her.

“I have,” Tillz replied. “
Herr
Becker needed help re-bricking an oven, Keller wanted to reroute his sluice, and Lang and Weiss wanted me to settle a dispute over their grazing access. I am happy to help,” he said, shaking his head, “though I don’t know why they all come to me with every complaint.”

Anja smiled at Tillz. “You know very well why,” she said with deliberate patience. “With Werner gone,” Anja shivered at the name, and Tillz drew her closer, “people were left looking for a leader and they found you.”

Tillz scoffed, and Anja leaned up to kiss him on the check. She knew his response was mostly bluster. It had been difficult for Tillz at first, leaving his forest sanctuary and moving into town. The villagers were initially suspicious of him, though most had come to accept his explanation that he had returned to the village of his birth after a prolonged absence. A few still looked at him queerly whenever someone mentioned the
rumpelstilzchen
, but it was such an absurd notion that no one dared to speak aloud any connection they might suspect to Tillz. Slowly, Tillz had become more and more comfortable around people, and now Anja dared say he quite enjoyed his position as a trusted leader of the village, though he put great effort in pretending otherwise.

“I guess there is nothing to be done about it,” Tillz said.

“Indeed,” Anja said, stifling a yawn.

Tillz frowned. “You are exhausted. You must get off your feet.” He swept her into her arms and placed her gently on their bed. He knelt before her and removed her shoes.

“Really, husband, I am perfectly capable of removing my own shoes.”

“Let me take care of you,” Tillz said softly, and Anja knew there would be no use in arguing with him. Besides, she thoroughly enjoyed it when Tillz tended to her, embarrassed as she was to admit it.

She removed her cloak and stretched, trying to work some of the stiffness from her back. She pulled the pins from her hair and shook the locks loose, letting them tumble down her back. Tillz looked up at her, and Anja blushed at the admiration and hunger she saw etched on his face.

Her shoes removed, Tillz joined her on the bed, leaned in to kiss her again, but stopped suddenly. He brought a hand to her face, ran his thumb under her eyes, frowning.

“Are you certain you are well, wife?”

“I’m fine,” Anja said, hoping she sounded convincing.

“You seem inordinately weary lately.” Tillz suddenly went stiff. “You are not ill, are you?”

“No,” Anja said quickly before Tillz became too worked up with worry.

Tillz pulled her to him and settled her on his lap. “Tell me what is wrong,
schatzchen.
Tell me what has you looking so worn out.”

Anja unlaced the bodice of her
dirndl
and pulled the dress over her head. She took Tillz’s hand and placed it on the thin cotton of her shift, just over her gently swelling belly.

“Before we were married, I told you everything I have to give is yours, remember?”

Tillz nodded, his gaze locked on her abdomen, a dazed expression on his face.

“My body, my spirit, my soul.” Anja put a hand to his cheek, brought his gaze up to meet hers. “My first born child.”

Tillz swallowed hard, and Anja saw the full spectrum of emotions run across his face—shock, worry, happiness, excitement.

“Anja.” The word was a reverent oath, a barely audible whisper.

“Are you pleased, husband?”