Page 10 of Nanny for the Minotaur

10

LYRA

T he morning sun filters through the freshly cleaned windows, casting long shadows across the manor's entrance hall. I adjust my grip on Mira's small hand as we begin our daily exercises, her silver-white fur soft against my palm.

"Ready for our morning adventure?" I keep my voice light, though my heart aches at how her tiny frame trembles with each step.

Mira's amber eyes sparkle. "Can we try the big stairs today?"

I hesitate. We've been working up to this, but the main staircase is steep. "Are you sure?"

She squares her shoulders, chin lifting in a gesture so like her father's. "I want to show Papa I can do it."

I grin. Normally, Kai would be here, too, but he had a lesson outside the home today. It's surprising to me that I miss him with an ache like he's my own son.

"One step at a time then. Remember what we practiced - hold the rail, and tell me if you need to stop."

Her determination shows in each careful movement. Left foot up, right foot joining it. Another step. Her breathing stays steady - a marked improvement from when I first started treating her. The exercises and herb-infused teas are working.

Halfway up, heavy footsteps echo from above. Theron appears at the top of the stairs, adjusting his formal vest. He freezes mid-motion, amber eyes widening as he spots us.

"Papa, look!" Mira's voice rings with pride.

I watch his massive hands grip the banister, knuckles pale beneath his black fur. His chest rises and falls in time with each of Mira's steps.

Three-quarters up now. Sweat dampens Mira's fur, but her pace never falters. The morning light catches her unusual coloring, turning each strand to liquid silver.

"Almost there, little one." My whisper carries in the hushed hall.

Final step. Mira plants both hooves firmly on the landing, her smile radiant. "I did it!"

Theron's hands tremble as he kneels before her, his imposing frame somehow gentle. His voice comes rough with emotion. "You certainly did."

He hugs her close, and I smile at them until he pulls back. Then, I reach for Mira's hand. "Were you going somewhere?" He looks to be dressed for a meeting.

Theron looks from me to Mira, and then shakes his head. He picks her up, and I step back. "No. I want to spend the morning with both of you."

Mira cheers as I laugh at them, leading him out to the garden where we typically stretch after the exercises.

"Here, watch this one." I guide Mira's arms up in a gentle stretch. "See how we reach like we're trying to touch the clouds?"

Theron settles into a chair, his massive frame making the sturdy furniture seem delicate. His merchant's coat lies forgotten on the bannister, vest half-unbuttoned. The morning sun catches the silver rings in his horns as he leans forward, amber eyes intent on every movement.

"Now we're going to be trees in the wind." I demonstrate the side-to-side motion that helps strengthen Mira's core. "Remember to breathe like we practiced."

"In through my nose, out through my mouth." Mira's silver-white fur gleams as she sways. "Like the wind in the branches."

"That's my clever girl." My praise makes her beam.

"The breathing helps when my chest gets tight, Papa." Mira turns to her father. "Lyra says it's like giving my heart a gentle hug from the inside."

Theron's throat works. "Does it now?"

I guide Mira through another stretch. "The key is making it fun. All these movements help build strength, but she just thinks we're playing."

"And the herbs you've been giving her?"

"Mixed into her morning tea. Speaking of which-" I reach into one of my dress pockets, pulling out a small wrapped bundle. "I've prepared a fresh batch."

His large fingers brush mine as he takes the package, sending an unexpected warmth up my arm. "You've done more for her in these two months than all the healers before."

"It's not just me. Mira works hard." I catch his eye. "She wants to make you proud."

Something shifts in his expression - a softening around his eyes, a gentleness I wouldn't have thought possible in such an imposing figure. He watches as Mira demonstrates her favorite "wing" stretch, her giggles filling the sun-warmed room.

"Papa, you try!"

"I don't think-"

"Please?" Mira's amber eyes, so like her father's, go wide with hope.

To my amazement, Theron rises and mimics the movement, his massive frame following his daughter's lead. The sight of this powerful minotaur merchant doing delicate arm circles brings a smile I can't suppress.

Fuck , that is doing something to my heart I can't take.

Mrs. Bramble appears at the door to the garden, interrupting our morning routine as she shouts for Theron. He grins, and ushers me and Mira to follow him. Two minotaur craftsmen lumber in, carrying what looks like furniture wrapped in thick canvas.

"Your commission, Mr. Blackhorn." The shorter of the two - though still towering over me - sets down his burden with surprising grace.

Theron's ears perk forward. "Ah, yes. Perfect timing." He turns to Mira. "Close your eyes, little one."

She obeys, bouncing on her toes. The craftsmen make quick work of the wrapping, revealing an exquisite child-sized desk and chair. The wood gleams golden in the morning light, its surface carved with delicate leaf patterns. The chair looks sturdy but lightweight - perfect for Mira's small frame.

"Open them now."

Mira's gasp echoes through the hall. "Is it really mine?"

"All yours." Theron's voice rumbles with pleasure. "So you can sit and draw like your brother." Something I imagine was difficult for her to do before when her father was worried about her collapsing.

I watch as father and daughter arrange the desk near the window. Theron's massive hands dwarf the art supplies he unpacks - crisp sheets of paper, colorful inks, delicate brushes. Each item is placed with deliberate care, his movements gentle despite his size. Mira directs him with all the authority of a ship's captain, her silver-white fur practically glowing with excitement.

"The light's better over here, Papa." She tugs his sleeve until he shifts the desk slightly left. "Lyra says morning sun is best for working."

"Does she now?" His amber eyes meet mine, something warm in their depths.

Mira wastes no time claiming her new seat, already reaching for the inks. "I'm going to draw our family first!"

I move to leave them to their moment, but her voice stops me. "Stay, Lyra. I need to get your hair right."

So I settle nearby, watching her tiny hands work with fierce concentration. Her tongue pokes out slightly as she draws - another gesture borrowed from her father, though I doubt he realizes it. The paper fills with bold strokes: Theron's impressive horns, her brother's gangly limbs, her own distinctive fur. And there, between the towering figures of father and daughter, a smaller form with copper-red hair.

When she proudly displays the finished piece, showing us all holding hands, neither Theron nor I mention how she's drawn me pressed close to his side. But I notice how his fingers tremble slightly as he praises her work, and how carefully he sets it aside to dry.

They spend the rest of the day drawing, Kai joining when he returns, and I can't draw myself away. Not when I'm falling so hard for this little family.

After dinner, I follow Theron into his study, settling into the chair I started to claim a few weeks ago when we started a regular routine of discussing Mira's progress at night. The leather creaks beneath me, still too large despite the weeks I've spent here. Everything in this room speaks of him - from the meticulously organized ledgers to the subtle scent of pine and leather that seems to follow him everywhere.

"Her breathing was stronger today." I pull out my notes, trying to focus on the careful script instead of how the firelight plays across his dark fur. "The exercises are building her stamina."

"I noticed." Theron moves his chair closer, supposedly to better see my documentation. His presence fills my awareness - the subtle shift of muscle beneath his white shirt, the gentle click of his horn rings as he leans in. "The desk was meant to be a reward. For her progress."

"It's perfect for her." The warmth in my voice surprises me. "Did you see how straight she sat? That posture will help her lungs."

His massive frame settles beside me, close enough that his arm brushes mine when he reaches for the treatment schedule. "Tell me more about these new herbs you're considering."

I explain the properties of each plant, but my usual clinical detachment wavers. There's something intimate about sitting here, planning his daughter's care together, watching his strong hands trace the careful diagrams I've drawn. It feels... right. Like coming home after a long journey.

"It's getting late." I stand reluctantly, gathering my papers. "I should-"

His hand catches mine. My breath catches as his thumb traces my palm, the gesture impossibly gentle for someone so powerful. Heat blooms where he touches me, spreading up my arm and through my entire body. His amber eyes hold mine, dark with an emotion I'm afraid to name.

I should pull away. Should maintain professional distance. Instead, I stand frozen, hyperaware of every point of contact between us - his rough palm against my smooth one, the slight tremor in his fingers that matches my racing pulse.

The moment shatters as Kai appears in the doorway, his lanky frame trembling. Tears mat the black fur around his eyes. "Papa... I had the dream again."

Theron's hand releases mine, but the warmth lingers. He crosses to his son in two long strides, kneeling to meet those haunted blue eyes.

"Come here, little warrior."

"Can we…" He turns to look at me. "Can we read a story?"

I nod. "Of course. I'll meet you both in the library."

I go to the kitchen first to get hot tea for the three of us, and when I return to the library, I find Kai settled on the couch beside his father.

"The one about the forest spirit?" Kai's voice steadies as he settles into the window seat with Mira.

I hand him a cup, noting how his grip has grown stronger these past weeks. "Actually, I know a story about two brave minotaur children who helped their father build the greatest trading fleet in all of Milth."

Theron's sharp intake of breath makes me glance up. His amber eyes catch mine across the room, filled with something that makes my heart stutter. He knows this tale - it's his own family's history, one I've carefully researched to help his children connect with their heritage.

As I weave the story, Theron's deep voice occasionally joins mine, adding details about his grandfather's adventures. Kai's eyes grow heavy, his tea cups empty as he shifts into his father's side.

Later, after we've tucked him back into bed, I return to Theron's study to collect my forgotten notes. There, pinned prominently above his desk, is Mira's drawing. The four of us stand hand in hand, rendered in bold strokes and bright colors. My copper hair blazes next to his black fur, our fingers intertwined on the page as they were moments ago in reality.

My throat tightens. No herb or potion could capture the feeling blooming in my chest as I trace the careful lines of our joined hands.