Page 19 of The Minotaur's Nanny Bride

"Something wrong?" Maya's voice breaks through my thoughts. She's extending the bottle toward me, her gray eyes searching my face with that unsettling perception she has.

"Just hungry myself," I lie, taking the bottle with my free hand. My massive fingers dwarf the container, a reminder of how fragile all this is. "Think you could work your magic on something for the adults after the little one's settled?"

She nods toward the living room. "Yeah, I don't mind."

I settle into my favorite chair, the one with the worn arms and a reinforced frame that even my bulk can't damage. Ellis takes the bottle eagerly, his tiny hands reaching up to grasp at it alongside mine. His gold eyes—so like Iris'—stare up with complete trust as he feeds.

"He's getting stronger," I murmur, watching those small fingers curl and uncurl against the bottle. "Grip like a proper merchant already."

Maya leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest. In the lamplight, her silver-blonde hair catches golden highlights, and for a moment, she looks softer than the practical healer I first met.

"Most babies his age can't grip that well yet," she says, that note of pride in her voice mirroring something in my chest. "He's advanced."

"Of course he is," I say with a wink. "He's an Ironhoof."

She snorts, but there's fondness in it. "I'm sure that's it. Nothing to do with all the exercises we've been doing with him."

We. Such a simple word. When did it happen? When did this arrangement—this temporary solution—become a partnership? I watch Ellis suckling contentedly and realize it doesn't matter when. It just is. Even if it shouldn't be.

Maya moves to the kitchen, and I hear the familiar sounds of her preparing our dinner. The rhythm of her knife against the cutting board, the clink of pots, the soft hum under her breath—they've all become as familiar as my own heartbeat.

"You know," I call out, keeping my voice low to not disturb Ellis, "I've been thinking about expanding the eastern storeroom at the trading post. Could use an herb section. Specialize in medicinals."

The chopping pauses. I hear her set down the knife.

"Is that right?" Her voice carries that dry tone that I've come to enjoy far too much. "And who would manage this herb section? Certainly not the minotaur who can't tell gankoya from goligan."

I chuckle, jostling Ellis slightly. He makes an indignant sound around the bottle, and I readjust. "I know a skilled herbalist who might be interested. If the terms were right."

She appears in the doorway again, a bunch of fresh frisse in her hand. Those gray eyes study me with an intensity that makes my fur prickle. "Terms?"

"Partnership," I say, the word slipping out before I can reconsider. "Fifty-fifty. Your knowledge, my connections. We could supply half the healers in Karona."

Something flickers across her face—surprise, interest, and something else I can't quite name. "That's... generous."

It is. Too generous, from a purely business standpoint. But nothing about this feels like just business anymore.

Ellis finishes his bottle with a satisfied grunt. I set it aside and shift him to my shoulder for burping, a move that felt awkward a month ago but now comes naturally. His warm weight against me, the faint milky scent of him—they ground me in a way nothing else ever has.

"Just practical," I say finally, patting Ellis's back gently. "Your herb knowledge is valuable. And you've proven reliable." The understatement of the year. She's been my salvation these past weeks.

Maya returns to the kitchen without answering, but I hear her humming again—a good sign. Ellis burps loudly, and I laugh, the sound rumbling deep in my chest.

"That's my boy," I say, shifting him back to the crook of my arm.

The words hit me like a physical blow. My boy. Not mine at all, but Iris' son. My nephew. The child I've sworn to raise, but not... not mine.

Yet my heart doesn't seem to know the difference. Every day, this little baby burrows deeper into places I thought long sealed shut. His tiny hands grip my fingers with complete trust. His gold eyes light up when I enter a room. His sleepy sighs against my chest as he drifts off feel like the most precious thing I've ever been entrusted with.

And Maya—gods help me—Maya with her no-nonsense attitude and her unexpected gentleness with Ellis. The way she's transformed this house into a home. How she knows exactly what Ellis needs before he even cries for it. The quiet conversation we share over wine after he's asleep.

It's all temporary. It has to be. I can't let myself believe otherwise. Someone like Maya doesn't stay with someone like me—a merchant minotaur with more ambition than sense, according to my late father. And Ellis deserves better than a bachelor uncle fumbling through parenthood.

But for now, in this moment, with Ellis drifting to sleep in my arms and Maya's humming drifting from the kitchen, I allow myself to pretend. Just for a moment. That this is mine to keep.

Ellis's eyes flutter closed, his long lashes brushing against his cheeks. His breathing deepens into the rhythm of sleep, and I find my own breath matching his. In. Out. Together.

"Dinner in ten," Maya calls softly from the kitchen, knowing Ellis is likely asleep by now.

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