Page 11 of The Minotaur's Nanny Bride

Dex's nostrils flare. "I'm not hiding. I'm adjusting. There's a difference."

"You're both coming with me today." It's not a question.

"To your shop?" His voice pitches higher. "Ellis isn't ready for that."

"Ellis isn't," I raise a skeptical eyebrow, "or you aren't?"

He grumbles something under his breath, one finger gently tracing Ellis's soft baby horns. The little one coos in response.

"You need fresh air. You look like you're one sleepless night away from passing out in a corner."

Dex opens his mouth to argue, but I've already turned to rummage through the bag of supplies I bought at the market two days ago. I pull out a long cloth wrap—soft, sturdy material in an earthy green tone that complements his fur.

"Here." I push it into his hands. "This will keep Ellis secure while leaving your hands free."

Dex stares at the cloth like I've handed him a live yillese. "I can't?—"

"You can." I take Ellis while Dex reluctantly stands, his full seven-and-a-half-foot height making me tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. "Watch first."

I demonstrate with quick, efficient movements—wrapping the cloth around my waist, creating a pocket, adjusting for support. My hands move with the practiced ease of someone who's helped many new mothers in my shop.

"Now you try." I unwrap and hand him both Ellis and the cloth.

Dex fumbles immediately, his large fingers struggling with the folds that seemed so simple in my demonstration. The cloth tangles, Ellis fusses, and frustration clouds Dex's face.

"Here." I step closer, placing my hands over his. "Like this."

My smaller hands guide his movements, steady and patient. The warmth of his fur brushes against my skin, surprisingly soft despite his rugged appearance. I keep my voice calm, instructive.

"Cross it here, then under and through." I feel the tension in his fingers as they follow my lead. "Now tighter—Ellis likes the security."

For a moment, we're standing too close, my hands still resting on his as the final fold falls into place. Ellis is now snug against Dex's chest, tiny hooves occasionally kicking against the merchant's massive torso.

I step back, trying to ignore the lingering warmth on my fingers. "See? Not so terrifying."

Dex doesn't respond verbally, but I can read the relief in his posture as he adjusts to the weight against his chest. Ellis has already settled, content in his cocoon.

"Grab your coat," I say, retrieving my satchel of dried herbs. "The morning air is still cool."

As we step outside together, I watch Dex take his first deep breath in what must be days. His shoulders lower slightly, the mountain of tension he's been carrying visibly lightening. One thick finger gently strokes Ellis's head through the wrap, an unconscious gesture of affection.

I hide my smile by pretending to adjust my satchel. Progress, even reluctant, is still progress.

The walk to my shop isn't long, but I find myself slowing to match Dex's hesitant pace. He moves like someone unused to stepping beyond familiar boundaries, glancing down at Ellis every few steps as if the baby might somehow vanish from his secure wrap. His massive frame draws stares from passersby—a minotaur with a baby strapped to his chest isn't something you see every day in Karona, even with our mixed population.

"They're not staring because you're doing something wrong," I murmur, noticing his discomfort. "They're staring because what you're doing is rare and good."

Dex snorts softly. "More likely wondering when I'll drop him."

"Stop that." I knock my elbow against his arm—or try to, reaching his elbow is a stretch. "You're doing fine."

My herb shop sits on the edge of town, where the cobblestones give way to the soft dirt path leading to my fields. The wooden sign—"Silverleaf Remedies"—swings gently in the morning breeze. Not the most creative name, but my family name still carries weight, even if I'm the black sheep who refuses to acknowledge it.

"This is it?" Dex's voice carries a note of surprise as he takes in the modest building with its herb-filled window boxes and dried plants hanging from the eaves.

"Were you expecting something more impressive?" I unlock the door, the familiar scent of dried herbs and tinctures washing over me.

"No, it's just..." He ducks his head slightly to enter. "It feels like you."

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