Page 33 of Nanny for the Minotaur

Heavy footsteps in the doorway make us both turn. Theron fills the frame, his black fur silvered by moonlight, amber eyes intense as they fix on my tear-stained face.

Mrs. Bramble rises with remarkable grace for her age. "Well, these old bones need their rest." She squeezes my shoulder as she passes. "Don't make my mistake, dear."

She slips past Theron with a knowing look, leaving us alone in the garden's growing darkness. And thankfully, he doesn't press. I'm sure he knows why I'm upset, but Theron just sits with me in the garden like he does every night.

And I savor it. Because I don't know how much longer I'll have him.

17

THERON

Isit through the monthly Merchant's Guild meeting, my mind half on the trade reports and half on getting home to the kids and Lyra. The familiar mahogany-paneled chamber feels stuffier than usual today, weighted with the stares of two dozen merchant families.

Marcus rises from his chair, his steel-gray fur gleaming in the lamplight. The gold rings in his horns catch the light as he adjusts his perfectly tailored vest. "Before we conclude, I must address a concerning development. One that affects the reputation of our entire guild."

My fingers tighten on the arm of my chair. I know that tone - the same one he used when he drove Dex's wife away.

"Our esteemed colleague Theron seems to have acquired a... pet." Marcus's cold blue eyes fix on me. "A human female, living freely in his home with his children. One must question his judgment, allowing such a creature near-"

The chair clatters behind me as I surge to my feet. The room falls silent. "Choose your next words carefully, Steelhorn." My voice comes out as a low growl.

"Come now, Theron. We all understand the appeal of exotic pets, but to let one near your children? What would Cassandra think-"

The mention of my late wife shatters what remains of my control. Not because of my feelings for her. No, I know that what I have with Lyra is true, unlike what I had with Cassandra. It's what she reminds everyone else of - what Marcus thinks he's proving by bringing her up.

I cross the room in three strides, my horns lowering. "Lyra is not a pet." Each word drops like a stone. "She is a skilled healer who has done more good for this city in a month than you have in your entire privileged life."

Marcus's lip curls. "Defending a human's honor? How far the mighty have fallen. First you drag common blood into noble circles, now this-"

My fist connects with his jaw before he can finish. He staggers back, knocking over a chair. Blood trickles from his split lip into his steel-gray fur.

They all see me as a commoner? I'll give them something to fucking set me apart then. If I'll never be on their level then why do I try their damn politics?

"If you ever speak about my family again," I snarl, standing over him, "I will remind you why the Blackhorn name was feared in the trading routes before it was respected in the guild halls."

The other merchants watch in stunned silence. I've just violated about a dozen guild protocols, but right now, watching Marcus wipe blood from his mouth, I don't give a damn about protocols.

Marcus struggles to his feet, dabbing at his bloodied lip. His composure cracks, revealing the sneer I've always known lurked beneath his polished exterior. "At least I understand the importance of maintaining our bloodlines. Those poor children, forced to endure a human's attempts at mothering-"

"Shut your mouth." My chest heaves as fury courses through my veins.

"They deserve a proper minotaur mother, someone who understands our ways. Not some common human playing at-"

I roar and charge, my horns catching him in the midsection. We crash through the guild table, sending papers flying. My fist finds his face again and again. Years of loading cargo and working the docks have given me strength his soft merchant's life can't match.

Marcus kicks up, catching me in the ribs. He may be privileged, but he still has a minotaur's natural fighting instinct. "Look at you," he spits, "proving exactly why you're unfit to raise them. Nothing but a common thug-"

I grab his horns, slamming his head back against the floor. "My children are none of your concern."

He headbutts me, stars exploding behind my eyes. We roll across the floor, scattering chairs, each trying to gain the upper hand. Blood - his or mine, I can't tell - stains the expensive carpet.

"Theron, stop!" Dex's massive arms wrap around me from behind, hauling me off Marcus. I struggle against his grip, my hooves leaving gouges in the wooden floor.

"Let me go!"

"Not until you calm down." Dex's voice is steel. Two other merchants grab Marcus, who's still trying to lunge at me despite his bloody nose and swelling eye.

I strain against Dex's hold, my vision red with rage. "You want to talk about unfit parents?" I snarl at Marcus. "Ask your wife about the bastards you've sired in every port from here to-"

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