Page 48 of Nanny for the Minotaur

The knife stills in my hand. I set it down carefully, turning to face her. "Your papa knows quite a bit about cooking. And I've written down all our special recipes, see?" I pull out the small leather-bound book I've been filling with notes. "Everything we've learned together is right here."

She runs her fingers over the pages, tracing the drawings I've made of different herbs. Her lower lip trembles slightly, but she straightens her shoulders – so much like her father in that moment.

A gentle knock at the kitchen door announces Kai's arrival. His serious expression softens at the sight of his sister helping me plate the food.

"Papa says I needed to come down for dinner," he announces, his lanky frame hovering in the doorway.

"Perfect timing. Could you help carry these?" I hand him the lighter dishes while balancing the heavier platter.

In the dining room, we settle into our usual spots. Mira chatters about her herb lessons while I reach into my satchel, fingers brushing against the worn leather binding I've carried since childhood.

Theron is noticeably absent, but I'm not too surprised. Not after the way he acted last night.

"Kai, I have something for you." I slide the book across the table. Its corners are soft from years of eager page-turning, the spine cracked in places where I'd spent hours studying particular entries.

He opens it carefully, black fur contrasting against the yellowed pages. His blue eyes widen at the detailed sketches – creatures both common and rare, each annotated in my childish scrawl that grew neater as the years progressed.

"These are all real?" His fingers trace a drawing of a frost wolf, careful not to smudge the ink.

"Every one. I documented them during our travels." I point to a note in the margin. "See there? That's where I wrote about seeing my first shadow cat when I was just a little older than you."

Kai pulls the book closer, hugging it to his chest. The way his arms wrap around it, protecting it like a treasure, makes my chest ache. His usual composure cracks just slightly – I catch the slight tremble in his lower lip before he masters it.

"Thank you," he whispers, eyes fixed on the table. "I'll take really good care of it."

"I know you will." I reach across to squeeze his hand. "You can add your own notes too. There's still plenty of blank pages in the back."

The weight of unsaid goodbyes hangs over dinner. Mira insists on sitting beside me, her small hand finding mine underthe table whenever she thinks no one's looking. Even Kai's usual composure wavers as he sneaks glances between his father and me.

As I take the children reluctantly upstairs for bed, Theron appears at the top of the stairs. "Come with me for a moment."

I nod, sending the kids to their rooms and then he leads me to his study. The familiar room with its dark wood panels and towering bookshelves feels different tonight. Every shadow seems deeper, every familiar object more significant.

Theron moves behind his massive desk, his broad shoulders tense as he pulls out a leather pouch. The rings on his horns catch the lamplight as he turns. "Your payment, as agreed."

When he extends his hand, the pouch is heavier than I expected. The brush of his fingers against mine sends warmth racing up my arm. His amber eyes flick away from mine, focusing somewhere over my shoulder.

"This is too much." My voice comes out rougher than intended. I try to push the excess gold back, but his large hand closes over mine.

"It's what you're worth." His deep voice catches slightly. He clears his throat. "What you've done for them... for us..."

The professional mask I've worn all evening threatens to slip. His thumb grazes my knuckles, probably unintentionally, but the gentle touch makes my breath catch. I force myself to look down at our hands – his dwarfing mine, black fur stark against my pale skin.

"Theron, I—" The words stick in my throat. What could I possibly say? That three months of caring for his children has made them feel like my own? That leaving feels like tearing out a piece of my heart?

That I want him, but I can't jeopardize him, especially when I never know what I mean to him. I'm his stolen moment, his secret, but not someone that could bemore.

He pulls back first, straightening to his full height. Even with the desk between us, I have to tilt my head back to see his face. The lamplight catches the silver sheen in his dark fur, highlighting the tension in his jaw.

We stand there, trapped in a moment neither of us seems willing to break, the heavy purse a tangible reminder of all the reasons I need to walk away. So I do.

The weight of the coin purse drags at my skirts as I climb the stairs to say my final goodnights. Before I reach the children's rooms, muffled sniffles drift from Mira's chamber. My heart clenches.

I push open the door to find both children huddled on Mira's bed. Kai sits straight-backed against the headboard, one arm around his sister while he clutches my bestiary book to his chest. His blue eyes shine with unshed tears.

"I don't want you to go." Mira launches herself at me, her silver-white fur damp where tears have already fallen. I catch her, checking her breathing automatically – a habit formed over months of watching for signs of strain.

"Shh, little one." I settle onto the bed, gathering her close. She burrows into my chest, small fingers tangling in my copper braid.

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