Page 6 of The Minotaur's Nanny Bride

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DEX

Isink down onto my sofa, the wooden frame creaking under my weight as exhaustion crashes over me like a wave. My muscles feel like molten lead, heavy and burning simultaneously. For the first time in a week, Ellis isn't screaming. The silence in my home rings in my ears almost as loudly as his cries had.

Maya moves through my cluttered living space with a confidence I find mesmerizing. Her practiced hands fold discarded blankets, arrange scattered baby items, all while keeping one eye on Ellis's cradle. Nothing about her movements seems calculated or forced; she simply flows from one task to the next like water finding its path downstream.

"I should be helping," I mutter, though I make no move to rise. My body has apparently decided that now that danger has passed, it can finally surrender to a week's worth of sleep deprivation.

"You should be resting," Maya counters without looking at me. She leans over the cradle, adjusting the tiny blanket around Ellis with gentle precision. Her fingers, small compared to mine but strong and sure, tuck the fabric securely around his tawny fur without disturbing his precious sleep.

I watch her check the temperature of the room, moving to crack a window just slightly to let in fresh air. She tests the draft with her palm, ensuring it won't chill the baby, before nodding to herself in satisfaction.

"You seem to know exactly what you're doing," I observe, unable to keep the wonder from my voice. "While I've been stumbling around like a drunk at a wine festival."

This pulls a smile from her—a small one, but genuine. The expression transforms her practical features, softening the determined set of her jaw. I find myself wanting to say more ridiculous things just to see it again.

"The beginning is the hardest," she assures me, moving to the kitchen area where bottles sit in various stages of preparation. Without asking permission, she begins organizing them, cleaning some and setting others aside. "And he seems very young. Everyone is scrambling to just make it when they are that age.”

The gentle understanding in her voice threatens to undo me. I've had traders try to swindle me, competitors threaten me, and once even had a knife pulled on me in a tough negotiation. None of it fazed me. But this human woman's simple compassion has relief sweeping through me, taking some of the weight off my shoulders.

"Do you do this often?" I ask, desperate to change the subject before I make a complete fool of myself. The bronze rings on my horns clink softly as I tilt my head to watch her work.

She glances over her shoulder, that smirk returning—the one that somehow manages to be both challenging and sympathetic at once.

"Soothe crying minotaurs? No," she quips, her gray eyes sparkling with mischief. "But babies? Sometimes. I grew up in a big family."

The laugh that bursts from me takes us both by surprise. It's rusty and rough, but genuine—the first time I've laughed in what feels like years rather than weeks. The sound rumbles through my chest, releasing some of the tension I've been carrying since Ellis arrived.

"That's not what I meant," I protest, though I can't stop grinning. My ears perk forward with interest, a tell my friend Theron always teases me about. "Though I suspect there are plenty of fully-grown minotaurs who'd benefit from your skills."

Maya's movements pause as she looks at me directly, assessing me with those perceptive gray eyes. "You're doing better than you think, you know. He's clean, fed, and safe. That's half the battle right there."

I gesture helplessly at the chaos surrounding us. "And the other half?"

"Figuring out how to do all that while still taking care of yourself." She points at a plate of untouched food on my table, now dried out and inedible. "When's the last time you actually finished a meal?"

I honestly can't remember, which seems answer enough. Maya shakes her head and continues her methodical organization of my living space, somehow making it feel less like criticism and more like caretaking.

"I'm a merchant," I explain, feeling compelled to defend myself. "I can haggle with the best of them, manage inventory that would make your head spin, and calculate profits faster than most humans can count to ten." I look over at Ellis's peacefully sleeping form. "But this? This is uncharted territory."

"You need to eat something," Maya says, crossing her arms. The stance transforms her from gentle caretaker to unmovable force in an instant. "And, not to be rude, but you should probably take a bath. I think there's been more milk spilled on you than you realize."

I sniff at my fur and wince. She's not wrong. I smell…sour. "Ellis might wake?—"

"I'll handle him." Her tone leaves no room for argument. "I've survived plenty growing up. I think I can manage one sleeping infant for twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes," I agree, rising from the sofa with a groan. My knees crack in protest after so long sitting motionless. "If he makes the slightest noise?—"

"I'll come get you immediately," she finishes, though the twitch at the corner of her mouth tells me she's humoring me. "Now go. You're worse than Ellis with the stalling."

I lumber toward my bathing chamber, glancing back twice before I close the door behind me. When I catch sight of my reflection in the polished metal mirror, I understand Maya's insistence. Wild-eyed, fur matted in places and sticking up in others, I look like some mountain hermit rather than a successful merchant. The bronze rings on my horns are dull and unpolished, and there are stains on my tunic I don't even want to identify.

The warm water feels like salvation against my hide. I sink into the large ancient wooden tub I had custom-built to accommodate my frame, water sloshing over the sides. One benefit of minotaur craftsmanship—we build things to last. This tub was my first major purchase when my trading business turned its first real profit.

As I scrub away days of neglect, my thoughts drift to Ellis's mother—Iris, my little sister. I hope she knows that I'll take care of him, that when she told the maids my name that I would take her son in. I'll raise him, teach him strength. But…I don't know if I can give him everything my sister would've. If I can show him the kind of love he deserves.

What do I know about love? Sure, I've had my share of dalliances, even came close to marriage once. But raising a child? Teaching him what it means to be loved?

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