Page 44 of Nanny for the Minotaur

I turn away quickly, pressing my palm against my mouth. These aren't the tears of worry I've shed so many times before. These are different - joy mixed with an ache I hadn't expected. My copper braid falls forward as I bow my head, and I catch the scent of the healing herbs woven through it, a reminder of my purpose here.

I've done what I came to do. Mira is thriving. Her heart condition will always need monitoring, but she no longer needs daily observation from a healer. The thought should bring nothing but satisfaction, yet each beat of her running hoofsteps feels like it's counting down our remaining time together.

Wiping my eyes, I head to the kitchen to gather my composure, only to find Mrs. Bramble already there, her steel-gray hair perfectly arranged in its usual bun as she methodically kneads dough on the worn wooden counter. Her brown eyes catch mine with that knowing look I've grown familiar with over these months.

"Sit." She points to a chair with flour-covered fingers. "You look like you need tea."

I sink into the offered seat, watching as she moves with practiced efficiency, her black dress and white apron a stark contrast to the warm wooden tones of the kitchen. She sets a steaming cup before me, then resumes her position at the counter.

"That little one's running about like new today." Her hands never stop moving as she speaks. "Thanks to you."

"She's strong. She just needed the right medicine."

"Mmhmm." She gives me that penetrating look that makes me feel like a child caught sneaking sweets. "And now that she's well, I expect there are other folks needing those skilled hands of yours."

The tea scalds my throat as I take too large a sip. "I suppose."

"You're a gifted healer, dear. Can't keep those talents all to one household, can we? Though we both know healing's not what's keeping you here anymore."

Heat floods my cheeks. Trust Mrs. Bramble to strike right at the heart of things.

"I've watched that man retreat into himself for years," she continues, her voice softening. "But lately... well. Changes are coming, one way or another. Best to face them head-on, wouldn't you say?"

I stare into my tea, unable to meet her knowing gaze. She's right, of course. I can't keep pretending I'm still here purely as Mira's healer. But admitting the truth means confronting feelings I'm not sure I'm ready to face. Especially if I'm not sure Theron will ever let me all the way in.

Mrs. Bramble's words follow me as I wander the familiar halls, my feet carrying me to the library without conscious thought. The scent of leather-bound books and aged paper wraps around me like a comforting embrace.

I find Kai in his usual spot by the window, perched on the wide sill with a thick tome balanced on his knees. His black fur gleams in the sunlight, making him look so much like his father it catches my breath. At six, he's already growing into those long limbs, though his small horns are just beginning to show through his fur.

He looks up as I enter, those blue eyes far too serious for such a young face. "Are you leaving us?"

The question hits like a physical blow. Of course he'd know - Kai notices everything.

"I-" My throat closes around the words.

"Is it because we weren't good enough?" His voice cracks. "Like Mother said?"

I cross the room in three quick strides, kneeling before him. The book slides from his lap, forgotten. "No, Kai. Never that. You and Mira are..." I swallow hard. "There are different kinds of love. Your mother-"

"Didn't want us." His words come out flat, rehearsed. "But you do. I see how you look at Mira. At Father. You love us."

"I do." The truth slips out before I can stop it. "But Mira's better now. She needs space to grow strong on her own. That doesn't mean I'm leaving you. I'm just…letting you live." Because they aren't really my family.

"That's what Mother said too. That she needed space." His shoulders hunch. "From us."

My hands shake as I reach for him, but he pulls away. The rejection stings, but I understand. Every word I'm saying - about love, about leaving being the right thing - sounds hollow even to my own ears. How must they sound to a child who's already lost one mother?

"I'm not your mother, Kai."

"No." He slides off the windowsill, standing straight and tall like I've seen Theron do countless times. "You're just someone else who's leaving."

The library door clicks shut behind Kai with devastating finality. His words echo in my mind as I sink onto the windowsill he vacated, the warmth of the afternoon sun doing nothing to chase away the chill in my chest.

A soft knock interrupts my brooding. Mrs. Bramble enters, holding a letter. "From Miss Maya, dear."

The familiar sight of Maya's precise handwriting usually brings comfort, but today the words blur before my eyes.

Lyra,

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