Page 40 of Nanny for the Minotaur

The third aunt, who hasn't spoken yet, eyes the healing herbs drying on the kitchen windowsill with clear disdain. "I see you've allowed quite a few... changes to the household."

I pour tea with steady hands, though my stomach churns at their scrutiny. The eldest aunt, her horns nearly scraping the ceiling as she sits ramrod straight, pins me with a stare.

"So, girl. What exactly brings a human healer to serve in a respectable minotaur household?"

"I trained with healers all over Milthar," I say, keeping my voice even. "It's given me quite a unique experience."

Her lip curls. "Theron, surely you could afford proper minotaur healers."

Theron's massive hand clenches around his teacup. "Lyra's skills are unmatched in the city."

"But what of tradition?" The second aunt leans forward, her horn jewelry jangling. "The Blackhorn name carries weight. Having a human so... intimately involved with the children's care..."

"Look what I made!" Mira bounces in her seat, oblivious to the tension as she waves a piece of parchment. Her silver-white fur practically glows in the morning light. "Lyra helped me draw Papa's shop!"

The aunts exchange dark looks at her familiar use of my name. But Mira's already sliding from her chair, her small hooves clicking against the floor as she toddles toward the stairs.

"Watch this!" She grabs the railing, determination lighting her amber eyes. "I can do it myself now!"

My heart swells with pride as she carefully navigates each step, something that would've exhausted her just months ago. The aunts can't hide their surprise at her progress.

"I see you've been... active in the children's development," the third aunt says, her words careful but cutting.

"Lyra makes my medicine taste like honey," Mira announces from the top of the stairs, "and she never tells me I'm too weak to try things."

The silence that follows feels like a physical weight. I catch Mrs. Bramble's approving nod as she refreshes the tea, her experienced hands never wavering despite the charged atmosphere.

Mira's hooves click against the wooden steps as she hurries back down, clutching another piece of parchment to her chest. Her silver-white fur catches the morning light streaming through the windows, making her seem to glow. She's wearing the amber dress I helped her pick out this morning - her favorite because it "matches Papa's eyes."

"Look what else I drew!" She spreads the parchment across the table, narrowly missing the teacups. "This is our family!"

My heart catches at the childish figures scratched in charcoal. There's Theron, towering over everyone with exaggerated horns. Kai stands next to him, holding what appears to be a wooden sword. And there, beside Mira's own small form...

"This is Mama Lyra!" Mira's finger jabs at a figure with long, wavy lines for hair. "See the herbs in her braid? And look, she's holding my medicine cup!"

The eldest aunt's teacup hits her saucer with a sharp crack. Tea sloshes over the rim, staining the pristine tablecloth. Selena's tail goes rigid, the fur standing on end.

"Mama?" The second aunt's voice rises to a pitch that makes my ears hurt. "Child, what did you just say?"

"Mira." Theron's low warning comes too late.

"Mama Lyra makes everything better!" Mira continues, oblivious to the horror rippling through her relatives. "She sings to me when I'm sick and teaches me about plants and-"

"This is unconscionable!" The third aunt surges to her hooves, her horn jewelry jangling violently. "A human? Playing at being mother to Cassandra's children?"

"Have you lost all sense of propriety?" the last aunt's words slice through the air. "What would people say? A merchant-class widower letting his children call some wandering herbalist 'Mama'?"

Mrs. Bramble's hands are steady as she wipes up the spilled tea, but I catch the tight set of her jaw. She positions herself closer to Mira, who's starting to pick up on the tension, her small form shrinking against my side.

"I won't have my niece and nephew raised by-" The eldest aunt's words cut off as Theron's massive fist slams onto the table, rattling every dish.

The aunts huddle near the window, their whispers sharp as daggers. Theron leads the children upstairs with Mrs. Bramble, leaving me to gather the breakfast dishes with trembling hands.

"Here, let me help." A soft voice startles me. Emkia. Her amber eyes hold none of the earlier hostility as she stacks teacups.

"Thank you." I study her, noting the differences from her sharp-tongued aunts. Where they are precise and cutting, Emkia has a hesitant grace. Her horn jewelry is simpler too - just a single copper band rather than the elaborate golden rings favored by the others.

"Walk with me?" She gestures to the garden door. "While they... deliberate."

---