Page 30 of Nanny for the Minotaur

I shoot him a glare, but he just chuckles.

Sighing, I leave the dock workers to clean up and catalog the shipment for me to go over later and let Dex drag me off. But the meeting goes poorly. I fumble basic contract terms, nearly agreeing to a ridiculous markup on spice imports until Dex smoothly interrupts.

"What my distinguished colleague means..." He launches into negotiations while I struggle to pay attention. His copper-ringed horns catch the light as he leans forward, using his considerable charm to salvage the deal.

After, he corners me in my study. "It's been a long time since I've had to save your hide. You've got it bad, old friend."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please. You're about as subtle as a beast in a pottery shop."

A knock interrupts his teasing. Mrs. Bramble is standing in the door, her face drawn. "Master Theron, I've just come from the market, and it seems that Miss Lyra has been drawing attention. I heard Marcus Steelhorn has been making inquiries about your household. Specifically about... a human healer."

My fists clench. "What kind of inquiries?"

"Her background, sir. Where she came from. Who her family is."

My vision edges with red. Marcus. That manipulative bastard, always searching for weakness. The memory of what he did to Dex's wife burns fresh.

"He won't touch her." The words come out in a growl.

"No," Dex agrees, his jovial manner vanishing. "He won't."

Gritting my teeth, I leave Dex and Mrs. Bramble, needing to see Lyra. But as I go in search of her, I can't help but notice that the house feels different - warmer somehow. The scent of dried herbs and honey wafts from the kitchen, along with the sound of childish laughter.

I freeze in the doorway. Kai stands on a wooden stool at the counter, his small face scrunched in concentration as he grinds herbs with a mortar and pestle. His movements are precise, methodical - just like everything else he does.

"Like this?" He looks up at Lyra.

"Perfect." She shifts Mira on her hip, my daughter's silver-white fur stark against Lyra's earth-toned dress. "Now add three drops of honey, just like I showed you."

Mira's tiny hands pat Lyra's cheeks. "Can I taste?"

"Not this batch, sweetheart. This is for Mrs. Bramble's headaches." Lyra tucks a strand of copper hair behind her ear, leaving a smudge of dried rirzed herb on her cheek. "But maybe we can make some sweet tea later?"

"With extra honey?" Mira's amber eyes light up.

"Don't let her fool you," Kai pipes up, carefully measuring honey drops. "She already had two cookies."

"Tattletale!" Mira sticks out her tongue.

The scene before me - my serious son relaxed and focused, my fragile daughter glowing with health, both of them orbiting around Lyra like she's their sun - it hits me like a physical blow. This is what home should feel like.

Lyra turns and spots me. A blush creeps across her cheeks, highlighting that smudge of rirzed herb. "Oh! We were just..." She trails off, green eyes wide.

"Papa!" Mira reaches for me. "Lyra's teaching us medicine!"

I cross the kitchen in two strides, taking Mira when she launches herself from Lyra's arms. The motion brings me closeenough to catch Lyra's scent - herbs and honey and something uniquely her. My free hand moves on its own, thumb brushing away that rirzed herb smudge.

Her breath catches. The blush deepens.

Marcus's threats echo in my mind. But looking at her now, at my children's happiness, at the way she's brought light back into our home - I know with bone-deep certainty I'll tear apart anyone who tries to take this from us.

That night, after tucking the children into their beds and watching their peaceful faces in the soft glow of the nightlight, I make my way to the study. The house is quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the city beyond our walls. I pour myself a glass of darkspice zhisk, the liquid burning a trail down my throat, grounding me.

The study door creaks open, and Lyra slips in, her bare feet silent on the cool stone floor. It's a testament to how comfortable we've become with each other that she does this.

She's changed into a simple nightgown, the earthy green fabric highlighting her eyes. Her copper hair is loose, cascading over her shoulders, catching the firelight like a waterfall of embers. She smiles at me, and the tension in my shoulders eases.

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