Spun Read Free

henchmen and her. Roulf stopped advancing, and looked uncertainly from Gregor to Werner.
    “You can’t take her,” Gregor said, his apparent confidence belied by the slightest tremor in his voice. “I won’t allow it.”
    “Oh?” Werner asked, and it was apparent from his tone that he was ready to drop all pretense that he had come to the cottage to make a polite request. “And what will you do to stop me?” Werner took a threatening step toward the miller, his hands fisted at his sides.
    “I’ll … I’ll go to the law…”
    Werner laughed, a sharp bark that made Gregor jump and Anja tremble.
    “The law?” Werner scoffed. “You forget, miller, that I own most of this village. I own your mill. I own your cottage. I own most of the land from here to the next village, and almost all the buildings. And I even own the law .” He spat out the last sentence as if it were a threat. “Now I’m done talking to you about this. It’s getting late and I’m tired, wet, and hungry.” Werner eyed Anja as if she were a morsel tempting enough to sate his appetite.
    Her blood ran cold at the look.
    “Roulf,” Werner said. The single word was explanation enough.
    Roulf stepped forward again and grabbed Anja roughly by the arms. Suddenly, there seemed to be a flurry of motion. Anja’s heart thumped wildly as she tried to pull out of Roulf’s grasp. Gregor tugged ineffectually at Roulf’s coat, trying to force him to release her. Werner snarled with impatience and grabbed Gregor around the neck with one hand, shaking him roughly before punching him with his free fist. Anja watched her father crumple slowly to the ground, as if it were happening under water. Though she couldn’t tell if the motion was truly as arrested as it seemed, or if it were only her horror that made it seem so. She tried to scream but found no sound would escape her throat.
    Roulf pulled her toward the cottage door while Anja kicked and struggled against him.
    “Feisty one, this chit,” Roulf said to Werner with a laugh. He pulled Anja out into the rain, and when he was tired of dragging her, he picked her up and dumped her unceremoniously into Werner’s carriage. Werner climbed in and shut the door, the sound of it like the lock of a prison door clicking into place.
    * * * *
    Anja crossed her arms in front of her, hugging her chest. She looked out the window of the carriage as it bumped and slid along the muddy road to Werner’s rittergut . She pressed herself tightly against the wall of the carriage, trying to inch away from Roulf as he encroached upon her. His breath was on her, and she smelled the dank odor of sweat and alcohol that clung to him.
    Her skin crawled.
    She hated being in that carriage with Roulf pressing against her and Werner leering at her from the opposite bench.
    “I only want what’s mine,” Werner said.
    Anja tore her gaze from the window, reluctantly looked across at Werner, though she said nothing.
    “I only want what your father owes me. I always get what is owed me.”
    “And then?” Anja asked, wincing as she heard the way her voice trembled.
    “And then I will let you go,” Werner said casually, “or not.” He looked her up and down. “Perhaps I will keep you for myself.” His voice was calm, nonchalant, and utterly chilling. “You really are quite … delectable. I find you to be a rather tempting sight—the wet tendrils of hair curling about your face. The droplets of water sliding down your neck, across your bosom, disappearing into your gown—how that wet gown clings to you…”
    Anja shuddered under the weight of Werner’s gaze, and the violating nature of his description of her. Next to her, Roulf’s breathing became heavier, and he pressed up against her again. She wanted to scream and throw herself from the carriage. Instead, she took a deep breath, steeled herself. “And if I can’t make the gold for you?”
    Werner’s expression darkened, turning instantly from licentious to