Page 19 of Nanny for the Minotaur

But Lyra is exhausted, and soon, I'm tugging her to her own room, bidding her goodnight.

Back in my study, I sink into the leather chair that's absorbed countless hours of paperwork and lonely nights. The small drawing sits propped against an inkwell, edges already worn from frequent handling. Kai's careful lines capture more truth than any expensive portrait – our family as he sees it.

My fingers trace the copper-colored strands he'd given Lyra's hair, using the special ink my mother had loved. He'd asked permission first, solemn blue eyes wide with worry about using something so precious. But there was no hesitation in how he drew her – standing between Mira and me, her hand linked with mine while Mira hugs her legs.

The copper ink catches the lamplight, and suddenly I'm remembering my mother's voice.

Love isn't a business transaction, my bull-headed son. You can't calculate its worth or minimize its risks.

She never wanted me to marry Cassandra, but her sisters pushed her. I agreed, for the good of my family. And I paid the price over the years.

My collar feels too tight again. I yank it loose, letting it fall open like I never would have dared with Cassandra watching. The silver merchant rings on my horns catch my reflection in thewindow – symbols of status that had meant everything to her and nothing to Lyra.

The drawing blurs. Kai hadn't included Cassandra. He'd had every opportunity – her portrait hangs in the main hall, proper and distant even in oils. But in his truth, drawn with a child's untainted honesty, our family has copper hair and herb-stained fingers and laughter that fills empty corners.

I press my palms against the desk, feeling the smooth wood groan under my grip. I've spent years being closed off, pushing everyone away. Somehow, in two months, this tiny human woman has dismantled every wall with nothing but gentle hands and stubborn determination.

The choice stretches before me like a merchant's crossroads – the safe, familiar path of isolation, or the terrifying unknown of letting someone in. Of letting myself want more than duty and proper appearances.

Kai's drawing watches me, copper ink gleaming. He'd colored my face with a smile I haven't worn in years. Until Lyra.

10

LYRA

The morning sun filters through the freshly cleaned windows, casting long shadows across the manor's entrance hall. I adjust my grip on Mira's small hand as we begin our daily exercises, her silver-white fur soft against my palm.

"Ready for our morning adventure?" I keep my voice light, though my heart aches at how her tiny frame trembles with each step.

Mira's amber eyes sparkle. "Can we try the big stairs today?"

I hesitate. We've been working up to this, but the main staircase is steep. "Are you sure?"

She squares her shoulders, chin lifting in a gesture so like her father's. "I want to show Papa I can do it."

I grin. Normally, Kai would be here, too, but he had a lesson outside the home today. It's surprising to me that I miss him with an ache like he's my own son.

"One step at a time then. Remember what we practiced - hold the rail, and tell me if you need to stop."

Her determination shows in each careful movement. Left foot up, right foot joining it. Another step. Her breathing stayssteady - a marked improvement from when I first started treating her. The exercises and herb-infused teas are working.

Halfway up, heavy footsteps echo from above. Theron appears at the top of the stairs, adjusting his formal vest. He freezes mid-motion, amber eyes widening as he spots us.

"Papa, look!" Mira's voice rings with pride.

I watch his massive hands grip the banister, knuckles pale beneath his black fur. His chest rises and falls in time with each of Mira's steps.

Three-quarters up now. Sweat dampens Mira's fur, but her pace never falters. The morning light catches her unusual coloring, turning each strand to liquid silver.

"Almost there, little one." My whisper carries in the hushed hall.

Final step. Mira plants both hooves firmly on the landing, her smile radiant. "I did it!"

Theron's hands tremble as he kneels before her, his imposing frame somehow gentle. His voice comes rough with emotion. "You certainly did."

He hugs her close, and I smile at them until he pulls back. Then, I reach for Mira's hand. "Were you going somewhere?" He looks to be dressed for a meeting.

Theron looks from me to Mira, and then shakes his head. He picks her up, and I step back. "No. I want to spend the morning with both of you."

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