Page 41 of The Minotaur's Nanny Bride

I've faced down cutthroat merchants and survived backroom deals that would make most traders blanch, but this silence? This emptiness? It's crushing me from the inside out.

"Brilliant move, Ironhoof," I growl at myself, pushing away from the table with enough force to send the chair skidding backward. "Give away your nephew, chase off the only woman who's ever..." My voice trails off before I can finish the thought.

I wander into the sitting room, where Ellis's little blanket used to be spread across the floor. My eyes automatically search for the scattered toys that should be there—the carved wooden likar Maya found at the market, the little bell she'd tie to his ankle to track his squirming movements. Gone.

The windowsill catches my eye—barren now, but for weeks it had been lined with bundles of herbs Maya was drying. Rirzed herb, zabilla leaves, goligan oil in little clay pots. She'd explained each one's purpose as she arranged them, her gray eyes bright with knowledge. I'd pretended only mild interest while secretly memorizing every word.

"This is gankoya root," she'd said once, holding up a gnarled, aromatic root. "Perfect for settling little stomachs."

I'd made some joke about its smell, and she'd flicked water at me from her fingertips, laughing.

Now there's just... nothing.

My hooves make hollow sounds against the floorboards as I drift through the house like a ghost. I pause at the doorway to the room she'd occupied, my hand hovering over the doorknob before I force myself to push it open. The bed is made with military precision—Maya never left a thing out of place. But her scent lingers faintly, that mixture of herbs and something distinctly her.

The small desk where she'd write letters to her herb suppliers sits empty. No more little jars of ointments carefully labeled in her neat handwriting. No more scarves draped over the bedpost, waiting to be grabbed as she rushed out to her shop in the mornings.

I back out, unable to stand it another moment.

The front door offers escape from the suffocating emptiness, and I find myself on the porch, staring at Maya's garden. She'd started it almost immediately after moving in, claiming Ellis needed fresh herbs nearby. Now, the little patch flourishes without her—the one thing that hasn't withered in her absence.

"You've left your mark," I murmur, eyeing the neat rows of plants I can't even name, though she'd patiently taught me each one.

A breeze rustles through the leaves, and for a moment, I can almost hear her voice explaining which plants need more sun, which ones attract the lumiolas at dusk. I drop my head into my hands, my rings clicking softly against my horns.

When exactly did I fall for her? Was it the first time she calmed Ellis when I couldn't? When she fell asleep at the table after staying up all night with him? Or was it simpler than that—the way her face lit up when she walked through the door, as if coming home rather than to a temporary arrangement?

I don't know. But now that she's gone, everything is colder. The days stretch endlessly before me, hollow and meaningless. And I know—gods, do I know—she was never just Ellis's nanny. She was the heartbeat of this house. She was my chance at something I never thought I deserved.

I was a fool to believe she was temporary. Because without her, I'm the one who feels impermanent, insubstantial—a shadow moving through rooms that used to hold life.

A knock at the door startles me from my brooding. I consider ignoring it—whoever it is can't possibly have anything important enough to warrant peeling myself away from my misery. But the rapping continues, more insistent this time.

"Coming, damn it!" I bellow, yanking open the door with enough force to make the hinges protest.

Theron stands on my doorstep, his amber eyes taking in my disheveled state with that calculating merchant's gaze of his. I haven't shaved in days, and my normally polished horn rings are dull with neglect.

"You look like shit," he says bluntly.

"Did you come all this way to insult me?" I step back, gesturing him inside with a half-hearted sweep of my arm. "Because if so, mission accomplished."

Theron ducks his head to avoid scraping his horns on my door frame. He's always been slightly shorter than me, but he carries himself with the confidence of someone twice his size. Today, he's dressed casually—unusual for him, as he typically maintains appearances even in his downtime. Must be one of his rare days away from the trading house.

"Lyra went by the herb shop earlier," he says, voice carefully neutral as he settles his bulk onto my couch. "Saw Maya."

Her name rips through me like a blade between my ribs. I turn away quickly, pretending to busy myself with finding drinks.

"Is that so?" My voice sounds strained even to my own ears. "And how is the flower girl doing?"

Theron doesn't answer immediately. When I turn back, two ceramic cups of aged fialon wine in my hands, he's studying me with that penetrating gaze that's made him a formidable negotiator.

"What happened, Dex?" he asks quietly.

I hand him a cup, then stand by the window, unable to sit. "Nothing happened. Arrangements changed. That's business."

"That's taura shit." Theron sets his untouched cup down with a decisive thunk. "Maya's shop is half-empty because she hasn't been tending her garden properly. And you—" he gestures at me "—you're a walking disaster. Where's Ellis?"

The question hits like a physical blow. I drain half my cup before answering.

---