Unspun

by Ruth Nickle

  Gerund closed his eyes. “He was bad for you, Meena. You never belonged with him. Yes, I came for you, to take you away. My plan was to do it while he was alive, but now that he’s gone I won’t leave you trapped by his memory.”

  “Ing, stop. I’m not trapped.”

  “All right. I expected that you would want to leave, but if you really do love this home, we could stay.”

  A pause. “We?”

  “Well, Tomas is gone, so . . . ”

  She stood, face incredulous. “What!?”

  “Meena, you’re my love. You always have been. I thought . . . ”

  “Oh?” she interrupted. “You thought that I would suddenly be eager to replace Tomas with someone else? Is that it? Or is this about the supposed treasure he kept in the attic? Well, Jack has everything now, so there’s no point in nosing about here.”

  “That isn’t the treasure I care about. Tomas took you from me!”

  “Ing, what in the blue sky are you talking about?”

  He slid off the bench to stand in front of her. “We were close, Meena. I treasured every moment with you. And then Tomas gave you that goose after I got kicked out of the university. He lured you away with those golden eggs and brought you up here. He didn’t even let you finish your final year! But now? Now you’re free of that giant and his gifts.”

  Meena gaped at him. “That is what you think? Ing, nobody took me. I chose Tomas. I made my own path, and up here we made a home. That’s not a position you can just step into. Nobody could, even someone I thought could someday fill his shoes.”

  Gerund turned in a circle to take in the cottage and garden and cauliflower field. “This life with you is what Tomas stole from me. Will you deny it to me as well? Even now? Meena, I paid my eye to save you!”

  Meena’s hand flew to her throat, to the memory of a knife. “Don’t. Just don’t. You saved my life once, and I am grateful, but you cannot use that gift to claim the years that have followed.” She turned away. “You should leave. I’m sorry that I can’t give you what you wanted.”

  Gerund threw up his hands. “So, it was all a waste then? I spend my beans, my effort, my time. I send Jack. And it’s all for nothing?”

  She spun around, and Gerund’s wrist was suddenly clamped in a grip like iron. And it wasn’t just her own impressive strength—he could sense threads of magic hovering under her skin. Her voice hissed into his face. “Jack. You sent him? Do you mean to tell me that that I am mourning my husband because you thought you owned me? That Tomas is dead and it’s your fault, Ing? Yours?”

  “No! I didn’t want him dead. I just wanted Jack to take the goose so you could see clearly again. Without the gift that stole your heart away, I could . . . ”

  “Stop! If you say one more word about what was taken from you, I swear I will break this old body of yours in half. Look at your own ledger and find the entry where you stole my husband from me. Where you stole a lifetime from me. And you dare to say that I owe you something? For what? For holding back time for a moment while healers raced against my death? Yes, you lost an eye, but that is not my debt to pay.”

  She released his aching wrist and shoved him in the chest. “Go, Gerund. We will not see each other again.”

  “But . . . ”

  “Take your cow and go. If your thieving heart leads you back here to steal a single minute from me again, I will show you exactly how much I learned at university. All the time in the world will not be enough to hold your misery.”

  Gerund blinked several times and knew there was nothing he could say to make her see. She was distraught, obviously not thinking clearly. She would understand when she had a chance to calm down. She just needed to rest, to wake up someplace Tomas hadn’t touched.

  He grasped her hand and pushed her toward unconsciousness.

  “No,” Meena said. Her hands sparked with yellow flame.

  Panicked, Gerund pushed harder, willing her to sleep.

  “No!” she said again. She clamped her fingers shut on his and somehow redirected his push. A dozen shoots of grass popped out of the blue soil at her feet. His hand was blistering with the heat of her grip, and he tried to twist away, but she held tight.

  “I may not have graduated,” she said, “but that also means I never swore to follow their code. Giants aren’t the only ones who can grind bones to powder.”

  Gerund’s fingernails blackened and cracked. The smell of burning hair and skin choked him. She was too strong. Though she redirected it into the ground, he kept pushing time at her because those extra days brought at least a little healing to his tortured hand.

  “You fixated on that goose,” she was saying, “and never saw the truth. The eggs were a promise of golden tomorrows. Tomas gave me a home in the clouds, he gave me the sky itself. He gave me so much more than just a goose.”

  He could not push Meena through time, so instead he pushed at the flames around her hands. They flared instantly, becoming a blinding ball of fire. Meena shrieked and released him, and they both fell to the ground as the flames vanished to nothing.

  Gerund couldn’t see anything but bright spots. He lay on the blue earth, holding his scorched fingers in the air where they wouldn’t touch anything. This was his chance! He could make her sleep! Meena would also be blind and dazed, so she wouldn’t expect it, wouldn’t be prepared to block him. He flailed with his unburnt hand and found his cow’s rope. He pulled on it to lever himself in the right direction, then let go and reached toward where Meena had fallen. His fingers grazed her knee, and he started to push.

  Something massive crushed his wrist, and Gerund screamed. What had Meena done to him? The weight shifted slightly before lifting away. With short, shallow breaths, Gerund fought to feel anything beyond the pain of fragile, splintered bones. There was a heavy thud nearby, like a step. Something warm and wet dripped onto his arm. Drool. It was his cow. The ungrateful beast had stepped on him!

  He tried to lift his arm out of the dirt, but the first movement sent shards of sharp pain shooting through him. He bit off another scream and focused on his breathing. Slowly he became aware of Meena speaking. He turned his good eye toward her but could see little through the tears and the lingering afterimage of the fire.

  “ . . . crushed, but the skin is not broken,” she was saying. “Here, I’ll just try . . . ” His broken wrist went blessedly numb, followed by his burned hand. He took a deep breath and fought a sudden need to vomit.

  “I’ve only chilled them,” Meena said. “Do not try to move or everything will be worse.”

  Gerund nodded. He didn’t think she was talking solely of his injuries.

  “I will find someone who can tend to you,” she told him. “As I said, we will not see each other again. Goodbye, Ing.”

  She took the cow’s rope and walked toward the house she called home.

  “I paid for that cow,” he protested.

  Meena did not answer, and Gerund could only grind his perfect teeth and watch yet another thief steal away what was his.

  Rumpelstiltskin’s Daughter

  by Ruth Nickle

  It was an impulse too strong to control. The sight of the emerald dangling around the queen’s neck sparked a memory so strong, so clear, that Tessa had little choice but to approach the queen and rip it from her throat. The moment of shock from everyone surrounding her was enough to give her a head start. She tore down the corridor, tears of panic and rage and pain streaming from her eyes.

  Light from the emerald seeped through her fingers, burning them. Still she clung to the stone. She could see a hazy image of it above her in her cradle. Again when she was four, her father held it out for her to see but cautioned her not to touch.

  * * *

  “The magic is much too strong for you yet, my dear. But soon enough I will teach you. And then, child, there will be no one greater than you.” Tessa’s father
sat next to the fire and held up a chain, the green gemstone dangling from it.

  Light reflected off the smooth cuts of the jewel, scattering little green stars throughout the room. They danced off the walls and ceiling, and Tessa squealed in delight as she watched it spin and shimmer in the warm glow of the fire.

  “Would you like to see a trick?” He grinned. Holding the jewel in one hand and then taking a pebble from the ground, he closed his hands around both and spoke a few words in gibberish. Wiggling his brows, he opened the hand that held the stone.

  Tessa leaned in to take a look. The rock was now gold. She put her hand to her mouth and giggled her surprise.

  “Can it do anything else, you ask?” he said. “One day you shall find out exactly how much power such a little jewel can hold. But for now, I’m afraid it is time for bed.” His grin broadened, and he stood to place the jewel gently back in its silver box. He turned, scooping her up and spinning her around. And then when they were too dizzy to stand, the little man sat with his daughter on his lap and spoke the sweet little lie that would forever be etched in her heart.

  “Oh, my sweet girl.” He put his forehead to hers. “No one will ever hurt you. I promise you, love, that you will have the life that I never did. You will grow and be loved, and you will have a good life. I promise you that I will do whatever it takes to make it so because nobody, not a single other soul, matters to me as much as you do.”

  When he broke their connection, she was quiet and still.

  He cocked his head slightly, studying her. “What is it, my child? What has made you so sad?”

  Her little eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Papa! I’m just so . . . so . . . lonely after you leave!” She nuzzled her head into his neck, wrapping her arms around him.

  “Oh, dear, that is a problem,” he said, stroking her hair. “What shall we do, then? Hmm?”

  She was quiet for longer still as he rocked her gently from side to side.

  “I want a brother, Papa . . . ” she finally whispered.

  “A brother!” He smiled. “What do you know of brothers?” he asked, but she didn’t answer. He pulled her in closer and sighed. “All right then, my sweet little one. If that is what it takes to make you happy, a brother you shall have.”

  * * *

  What had she done? Oh, heaven and stars, what had she done? Fear clutched every inch of Tessa. It clawed and pulled at her until she felt she couldn’t breathe. Demons of her past ran alongside the queen’s guards as they chased her down the corridor of her own personal nightmare.

  She could hear Papa’s voice as if he were there, clear and heart-wrenching. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you . . . ”

  * * *

  “Hush now child, ‘twas naught but a nightmare.” Papa lifted Tessa into his embrace. Her small hands clung to his shoulders as she hiccupped for breath between sobs. “Besides, there can be no tears when I have brought such good news!”

  The joy in his voice, his warmth, his safety soon calmed the frightened girl, and she leaned back to look at her father. He wiped a tear from her big blue eyes and tucked a strand of raven hair behind her ear before giving her forehead a kiss.

  “Ah, sweet mint and sunshine.” He had always told her how much he loved the scent of her hair. “I have come to tell you that I have finally done it, my dear. I have finally found you a brother. But wait!” he said, putting a finger up to halt her excitement. “We have still a little while to wait as the boy is not yet born.”

  * * *

  How had the queen gotten the necklace? And why had Tessa not seen it until just now? All this time the key to her past was right there, hanging from the queen’s neck. “But how?” the question spun in her mind.

  Tessa remembered the morning her father had taken the necklace from its box and left. The kiss he had given before he set out had lingered on her forehead for years. Slowly, oh so very slowly, it had disappeared as the days and months, the years had gone by. Now it was nothing more than a whisper of a memory. Her heart beat heavy in her ears. Tears clouded her vision. The fear of the chase and the pain of the memory threatened to break her. Yet still she ran.

  * * *

  “Papa!” Tessa cried out. Rain poured down, dulling sight and sounds. “Papa!” she screamed again. But at just four years old, her voice was no match for the wind.

  He should have been home. He had promised he’d be home. As she inched along the trail that led away from her house and into the forest, the gray sky turned black. Thunder clapped, striking a tree that seemed much too close to her. She ran.

  Something, the root of a tree, a branch, a hand, grabbed at her foot, and she sprawled to the ground. She picked herself up and scurried under a tree that offered large branches to hide under. Tucking her knees under her chin, she clamped her eyes shut until at long last she fell asleep.

  “What’s this now?” A woman’s voice tsked. Arms lifted her into a soft embrace.

  The woman carried her to the castle, quickly and quietly finding a room and a bed for Tessa. Night had never been so dark. So dead. Back at her cottage the night was filled with the sound of owls and bats and life, noises that reminded her that she was not alone, that she was safe. The only sound she heard now in the new, strange castle was a howling that wove through the halls.

  “The wind, only the wind,” Papa would’ve said. He would’ve then held her in his arms as he rocked back and forth, and he would have sung a sweet lullaby until she was finally able to drift off to sleep.

  But he wasn’t there, and it definitely was not the wind.

  The sound, a weeping sort of anguished cry, came closer and closer to where she cowered behind her blanket. The air surrounding her grew colder as the noise climbed louder and louder until she could have sworn that whatever made the noise was at the foot of the bed. And then the howling stopped. Every inch of her trembled as she slowly peeked over the blanket.

  A ghost stood there, its shape too faded to tell whom it had once been. Her teeth chattered as she asked, “Who are you?”

  The monster held out what she could only assume was an arm and then gave one last shriek. The poisonous noise pierced her soul. She threw her hands up to cover her ears, squeezing her eyes shut tight.

  * * *

  Tessa’s feet pounded the hard stone, and she blessed her days spent playing with the prince, weaving through corridors and secret passageways. It was the only reason she was still alive. But even he couldn’t save her now.

  The sound of armor clashing, of curses and shouting, sent pins throughout her body, making her heart as well as her legs move faster. She had to find the room, and fast.

  * * *

  She barely had time to tiptoe into the room when the prince came bursting out of the trapdoor on the floor.

  “Caught you!” She pointed at him and laughed. “I thought you said you were good at this game,” she said as she arched an eyebrow.

  It was then that she noticed his pale face and a flash of pure fear in his eyes before he was able to mask the look. He met her gaze and grinned. “Yeah, well, maybe I was trying to go easy on you.”

  “Because that sounds like something you would do . . . ” She crossed her arms and gave him a look that said she clearly didn’t believe him. “What is it anyway? You know it’s not fair to hide where I can’t possibly find you.”

  He shrugged, “I’m the prince. There has to be a place for me to hide if raiders invade, hasn’t there? But you must listen to me, Tessa,” he said, walking to where she stood, “you have to promise me that you’ll never go down there.”

  With her curiosity thoroughly piqued, she looked over his shoulder. He moved to block her view. “I’m serious! Promise me, Tessa.” He kept his eyes on hers, unwavering.

  “Fine, but can I at least know why?”

  He chewed on his lower lip as if he were debating. Tessa sighed. He
seemed to have forgotten, again, that she was in fact a whole three years older than him. But while she was small for her age, he was exceptionally tall for his.

  “I . . . I don’t want to talk about it. Just promise, okay?”

  “All right,” she said before giving another sigh.

  “Shake on it?”

  She groaned. “Fine,” she said and spit into her hand as he did the same. When their hands met, he pulled her into a choke hold, rubbing her black hair with his knuckles.

  “Come on, little crow. It’s time to find us a feast!”

  * * *

  Tessa took a sharp turn and made her way to the staircase of the keep. Up the stairs she ran, winding up, up, up until she reached the door at the top. It was old and rusted, and she knew it would protest when she opened it, so she rammed it with her shoulder, making it burst open. After she entered the small room she turned back to the door and slammed it shut. Finding the wooden beam used to bolt it lying off to the side of the doorway, she picked it up. The wood nearly fell from her shaking hands as she attempted to secure the door. After she managed to slide the piece of timber into the metal brackets on the wall, she hurried to the tall, narrow window that looked out to the courtyard below and squeezed through. With her heart in her throat and her eyes keeping watch to make sure no one noticed her on the ledge, she made her way to the abandoned room only two windows away.

  As she crept through the window of the prince’s old nursery, she prayed it was still empty and gave the smallest sigh of relief when it was. Not daring to set the necklace down, not even for one second, she placed it over her head. The weight of the gem was a comfort amid the chaos. Her eyes scanned the bare floor, searching for the trapdoor. It was there somewhere, wasn’t it? Fresh panic surged through her at the thought that she had gone to the wrong room and then released when she saw the edge of the door hidden among the wooden floorboards. She dropped to the floor and clawed at the edge. Finally her nails caught hold and she pulled the heavy door open.