Page 21 of Nanny for the Minotaur

I move to leave them to their moment, but her voice stops me. "Stay, Lyra. I need to get your hair right."

So I settle nearby, watching her tiny hands work with fierce concentration. Her tongue pokes out slightly as she draws - another gesture borrowed from her father, though I doubt he realizes it. The paper fills with bold strokes: Theron's impressive horns, her brother's gangly limbs, her own distinctive fur. And there, between the towering figures of father and daughter, a smaller form with copper-red hair.

When she proudly displays the finished piece, showing us all holding hands, neither Theron nor I mention how she's drawn me pressed close to his side. But I notice how his fingers tremble slightly as he praises her work, and how carefully he sets it aside to dry.

They spend the rest of the day drawing, Kai joining when he returns, and I can't draw myself away. Not when I'm falling so hard for this little family.

After dinner, I follow Theron into his study, settling into the chair I started to claim a few weeks ago when we started a regular routine of discussing Mira's progress at night. The leather creaks beneath me, still too large despite the weeks I've spent here. Everything in this room speaks of him - from the meticulously organized ledgers to the subtle scent of pine and leather that seems to follow him everywhere.

"Her breathing was stronger today." I pull out my notes, trying to focus on the careful script instead of how the firelightplays across his dark fur. "The exercises are building her stamina."

"I noticed." Theron moves his chair closer, supposedly to better see my documentation. His presence fills my awareness - the subtle shift of muscle beneath his white shirt, the gentle click of his horn rings as he leans in. "The desk was meant to be a reward. For her progress."

"It's perfect for her." The warmth in my voice surprises me. "Did you see how straight she sat? That posture will help her lungs."

His massive frame settles beside me, close enough that his arm brushes mine when he reaches for the treatment schedule. "Tell me more about these new herbs you're considering."

I explain the properties of each plant, but my usual clinical detachment wavers. There's something intimate about sitting here, planning his daughter's care together, watching his strong hands trace the careful diagrams I've drawn. It feels... right. Like coming home after a long journey.

"It's getting late." I stand reluctantly, gathering my papers. "I should-"

His hand catches mine. My breath catches as his thumb traces my palm, the gesture impossibly gentle for someone so powerful. Heat blooms where he touches me, spreading up my arm and through my entire body. His amber eyes hold mine, dark with an emotion I'm afraid to name.

I should pull away. Should maintain professional distance. Instead, I stand frozen, hyperaware of every point of contact between us - his rough palm against my smooth one, the slight tremor in his fingers that matches my racing pulse.

The moment shatters as Kai appears in the doorway, his lanky frame trembling. Tears mat the black fur around his eyes. "Papa... I had the dream again."

Theron's hand releases mine, but the warmth lingers. He crosses to his son in two long strides, kneeling to meet those haunted blue eyes.

"Come here, little warrior."

"Can we…" He turns to look at me. "Can we read a story?"

I nod. "Of course. I'll meet you both in the library."

I go to the kitchen first to get hot tea for the three of us, and when I return to the library, I find Kai settled on the couch beside his father.

"The one about the forest spirit?" Kai's voice steadies as he settles into the window seat with Mira.

I hand him a cup, noting how his grip has grown stronger these past weeks. "Actually, I know a story about two brave minotaur children who helped their father build the greatest trading fleet in all of Milth."

Theron's sharp intake of breath makes me glance up. His amber eyes catch mine across the room, filled with something that makes my heart stutter. He knows this tale - it's his own family's history, one I've carefully researched to help his children connect with their heritage.

As I weave the story, Theron's deep voice occasionally joins mine, adding details about his grandfather's adventures. Kai's eyes grow heavy, his tea cups empty as he shifts into his father's side.

Later, after we've tucked him back into bed, I return to Theron's study to collect my forgotten notes. There, pinned prominently above his desk, is Mira's drawing. The four of us stand hand in hand, rendered in bold strokes and bright colors. My copper hair blazes next to his black fur, our fingers intertwined on the page as they were moments ago in reality.

My throat tightens. No herb or potion could capture the feeling blooming in my chest as I trace the careful lines of our joined hands.

11

THERON

The morning sun barely crests the horizon when Mira bursts into my study, her silver-white fur practically glowing in the early light.

"Papa! Can we go to market? With Lyra too?" Her amber eyes, so like my own, shine with hope.

My quill pauses over the ledger. The thought of being seen publicly with Lyra makes my chest tighten. Not because I'm ashamed - far from it. But the whispers will start again, and I've spent years building walls against those voices.

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