Page 33 of The Minotaur's Nanny Bride

"Nothing happened." I thrust a bundle of dried meqixste bark into a storage bin. "Nothing at all."

Behind us, something crashes—likely one of the children bumping into a display—but I barely register it. My mind is too busy constructing walls against Lyra's gentle probing, walls I know from experience will ultimately prove useless.

"You know what I can't understand," Lyra continues, absently smoothing a hand over her herb-laden braid, "is why Dex hasn't found another nanny yet. It's been, what? Almost three months?"

The question lands like a physical blow. My hands freeze mid-motion, the delicate glass vial I'm holding suddenly feeling as heavy as an anvil. A familiar ache unfurls in my chest—that peculiar mixture of hope and dread that's been my constant companion for weeks now.

"We've just been busy," I manage, my voice barely audible over the cheerful chatter of children across the shop. "The summer trading season for him, festival preparations for me. There hasn't been time to interview proper candidates."

Lyra's eyebrows arch skeptically. The small gold flecks in her green eyes catch the sunlight streaming through my shop windows, making her gaze even more penetrating.

"That's interesting," she says, tapping her fingers against my workbench. "Because Theron mentioned that Dex turned down three perfectly qualified minotaur nannies just last week. Highly recommended ones, too."

I nearly drop the vial, catching it at the last moment with fumbling fingers. My scar—that jagged line across my right palm from the time I'd saved a minotaur child from a magical accident—tingles uncomfortably.

"He... must have had his reasons," I reply, focusing intensely on securing the cork stopper into the vial, avoiding Lyra's gaze. "Ellis is particular."

"Ellis is a baby," Lyra counters softly. "You're the one who's particular."

I shake my head, silver-blonde hair falling across my face, providing a momentary shield from her scrutiny. "That's ridiculous. Why would I?—"

"Because you care about them." The simplicity with which she delivers this truth makes my throat constrict. "Both of them."

"I'm just helping him out," I insist, moving to a different corner of my workshop, putting physical distance between us as if that might somehow weaken the impact of her words. "It would have been criminal to leave him alone with that baby."

Behind us, Kai is explaining something to Mira about the different herb bundles hanging from my ceiling. His serious, patient tone reminds me so much of his father that I can't help but smile despite my discomfort.

Lyra follows me, herbal skirts swishing against the floorboards. "Maya Silverleaf, you've never been a convincing liar. Not when we were children stealing rirzed herb from old Healer Gremton's garden, and certainly not now."

I busy myself with reorganizing a shelf of perfectly organized jars. "It doesn't matter what I feel. Dex is..." I trail off, unsure how to articulate the complex tangle of emotions that surround that particular minotaur.

"Dex is what?" she presses. "Stubborn? Thick-headed? Terrified of being rejected again?"

The accuracy of her assessment makes me wince. He's told me, in the briefest terms, about Arekia and it seems Lyra knows about her too. I turn to face her finally, shoulders sagging in defeat.

"It's complicated. After what happened last week..." I swallow hard, the memory of that night—his touch, his abrupt departure—still raw enough to make my cheeks flush. I continue before she asks what happened because I am not ready to go there. "I don't think he wants what I want."

Lyra's expression softens, and thankfully she doesn't push. She reaches out, taking my scarred hand in her smaller one. "It's okay to want him, Maya. It's okay to want to be in Ellis' life permanently. What's going to get everyone hurt is if you keep denying it to yourself."

The truth of her words pierces through my carefully constructed defenses. I exhale shakily, feeling suddenly exposed, as if she's stripped away layers of protection I didn't even realize I'd built around myself.

"What if I'm wrong?" I whisper, giving voice to my deepest fear. "What if he only sees me as convenient help? A temporary solution?"

Lyra leans forward, her tone dropping to an almost-whisper. "If you want him, you have to make him see it. Before someone else does."

The thought of someone else stepping into the life I've begun to think of as mine—caring for Ellis, sharing meals with Dex, filling that grand house with warmth—creates a hollow ache in my stomach that no herbal remedy could cure.

I don't answer. Instead, I pull my hand away and return to filling tiny vials with meticulous precision, my movements deliberate and focused while my mind races in disorganized circles. Each cork I push into place feels like another seal on the emotions threatening to overflow.

My heart is heavy with uncertainty. I'm a practical woman—I've built my entire life around practicality after being disowned by my family. I analyze, I observe, I make calculated decisions.

But there's nothing calculated about the way I feel when Dex looks at me across the dinner table, or when Ellis falls asleep against my shoulder, his tiny horn buds pressing into my neck.

19

MAYA

Ireturn to Dex's house long after my shop is closed, my arms heavy with parcels—completed orders for tomorrow's delivery and fresh herbs I'll need for the morning. The familiar path up to his door feels different tonight, weighed down by Lyra's words that have been echoing in my head all day.

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