Page 29 of The Minotaur's Nanny Bride

Then, softly, she bumps her shoulder against my arm. The gentle contact sends a jolt through me.

"Stop looking like you've been through a battle," she says, her voice low.

I blink, startled out of my stupor by both the touch and the words—the most direct she's been in days. I turn to look down at her, and what I see makes my breath catch.

Her gray eyes hold something different today. The careful distance is still there, but behind it, something softer, less guarded.

"I—" My usual quick words desert me, leaving nothing but honest confusion in their wake.

She slides the knife from my grip, her fingers brushing against mine deliberately. "You're useless in here. I'll handle it." She gestures for me to move with a flick of her wrist, her expression bemused rather than dismissive.

For the first time in days, I feel my face crack into a small, tentative smile. The tightness in my chest eases just enough to let me breathe properly again. She's still here. She hasn't pushed me away completely. The wall between us has a hairline crack now—small, but real.

"You're probably right," I concede, stepping aside to give her room at the counter. "Ellis and I would likely starve without you."

Her lips twitch and it warms my chest. I know she won't be around long and I shouldn't have crossed that line. I just need to figure out how to fix this.

"Good thing I'm here." But the words are tinged with words we both don't speak.

For now.

17

MAYA

Isit cross-legged on the plush rug in Dex's living room, watching Ellis wiggle his tiny hooves in the air. The morning sunlight filters through the tall windows, casting a golden glow across his tawny fur. After weeks of fussing and crying, these calm moments feel like precious gifts.

"Who's the strongest little minotaur?" I tickle his belly gently. "Is it you? Is it Ellis?"

His gold eyes—so like his uncle's—widen with fascination. He's growing more alert each day, those eyes tracking everything with an intelligence that sometimes catches me off guard. His baby horns are coming in strong through his forehead fur, soft little nubs that I've learned to carefully avoid when cradling him.

I wiggle my fingers over his chest, watching his small hands bat at the air. My practical silver-blonde hair falls forward, and he immediately reaches for it. I've learned to keep it pulled back most days, but this morning I'd forgotten.

"Oh no you don't, little one," I chuckle, tucking the strands behind my ear. The movement exposes the jagged scar across my right hand—a permanent reminder of the price I paid for my principles. "We've been down that road before."

Ellis kicks his legs excitedly, his eyes locked on mine. I tickle under his chin, and something magical happens—his mouth curves into a smile and he lets out the softest little sound, halfway between a coo and a laugh.

I freeze, my heart skipping a beat. "Was that...?"

I tickle him again, and this time there's no mistaking it. A giggle—tiny but unmistakable—bubbles from his throat. His eyes widen at the sound of his own voice, as if surprised by what he's accomplished.

"Ellis!" I gasp, warmth blooming in my chest. He laughs again, this time reaching for me with both hands, tiny fingers grasping at the air between us. The sound is like bells, pure and innocent.

My face splits into a grin I couldn't contain if I tried. "Did you hear that, Ellis?" I whisper, voice soft and full of wonder. "You laughed."

The moment feels sacred somehow. After weeks of tears and sleepless nights, this small victory feels monumental. I want to preserve it, memorize the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, how his little snout wrinkles when he smiles.

Movement at the doorway catches my attention. Dex stands there, massive frame filling the space, one hand resting against the doorframe. I hadn't heard him come in. His green eyes are fixed on Ellis, who's still making happy gurgling sounds.

"Dex! Ellis just laughed. Actually laughed!" I exclaim, expecting to see my own joy mirrored in his expression.

But something else flickers across his face—a shadow that doesn't belong. His jaw tightens slightly, the bronze rings on his curved horns catching the sunlight as he shifts his weight. He's smiling, yes, but it doesn't reach his eyes completely.

"That's..." he starts, then clears his throat. "That's wonderful."

I recognize it immediately, that complicated tangle of emotions. Pride in his nephew's milestone, happiness at seeing Ellis content—but threaded through it all, unmistakable jealousy. Jealousy that Ellis reached this milestone with me, not him. That after weeks of Dex's best efforts, it was my hands that coaxed out that first precious laugh.

I keep my face neutral, though my chest tightens. I understand his feelings better than he might think. Dex has been trying so hard, pouring everything into caring for this child thrust suddenly into his life. Yet despite his efforts, it's often my presence that soothes Ellis, my voice that calms his cries.

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