Page 1 of The Minotaur’s Little Peach

T he late afternoon heat presses against my skin like a wool blanket, making the sandstone streets shimmer in waves that blur the edges of everything.

Merchants holler their final prices from beneath striped awnings, their voices competing with the rumble of wheels on stone and the distant roar still echoing from within the colosseum walls.

I shift the wicker basket on my hip, feeling the weight of unsold fruit and the familiar ache in my shoulder from carrying it all day.

The crowd streams out through the massive archway—minotaur mostly, their massive frames dwarfing the occasional human or orc scattered among them.

Blood and sweat mingle in the air, along with the scent of roasted nuts from a nearby vendor.

Three years since I worked off my contract to Master Theren, and I'm still here at the gates, hawking produce for his shop. Still scraping together enough coin to keep a roof over my head and food in my belly. Still watching my tongue around every horned giant who towers over me.

I might not be Indentured anymore but I’m still a servant.

The pears on top of my basket glisten with moisture, their golden skin beginning to show the telltale dark spots that mean they'll be worthless by tomorrow. I angle the basket away from the direct sun, but there's precious little shade to be found.

That's when the shadow falls across me.

I glance up, expecting another customer haggling over copper pieces, and my breath catches somewhere between my lungs and my throat.

He's enormous—even by minotaur standards.

Seven feet of pure muscle wrapped in sable-brown hide that catches the light like polished leather.

Lighter streaks run around his mouth, and when he moves, I catch sight of a jagged scar cutting across his left shoulder.

His horns sweep upward in graceful arcs, polished to a gleam that speaks of careful maintenance.

And he's wearing nothing but a pair of loose shorts that hang low on his hips.

Heat that has nothing to do with the afternoon sun creeps up my neck. I've seen plenty of minotaur in various states of undress—it's impossible to avoid in a city like Karona—but none of them ever made my mouth go dry like this.

His amber eyes fix on my basket, and one corner of his mouth quirks upward. "Those pears are bruising in the sun."

The words come out in a voice like aged whiskey, smooth and warm with just enough roughness to make something flutter low in my stomach. I should nod politely, maybe offer him a discount. That's what I always do.

Instead, I cock my head and give him a look that would've gotten me a sharp word from Master Theren. "Maybe if a certain minotaur stops blocking the breeze with his oversized frame, they'd last longer."

The moment the words leave my mouth, I expect his expression to darken. Expect him to remind me of my place, or worse—walk away without buying anything.

But he throws back his head and laughs.

The sound rolls through the air like thunder, rich and genuine, and it does something to my insides that I'm not prepared for. When he looks back down at me, those molten amber eyes are dancing with amusement.

"Oversized?" He shifts his weight, deliberately moving even more into my line of shade. "I prefer 'impressively proportioned.'"

"That's one way to put it." I adjust my grip on the basket, hyperaware of how small my hands look against the wicker. "Though I'm not sure my fruit agrees with your assessment."

"Your fruit has opinions now?" He leans down slightly, bringing us closer to eye level, and I catch the scent of leather and something distinctly him—clean sweat and sunshine. "What else do they think about?"

"Mostly they complain about the company they're forced to keep." I gesture toward a cluster of oranges that have definitely seen better days. "These ones in particular have been muttering about finding more attractive neighbors."

"Can't blame them." His gaze doesn't leave mine. "They're in the presence of something much more appealing."

The compliment seeps beneath my skin, warm and unexpected. I'm used to being invisible, to blending into the background while minotaur go about their business. I'm certainly not used to this kind of attention from someone who looks like he could snap me in half without breaking a sweat.

"Smooth talker." I try to keep my voice steady, but there's a breathless quality creeping in that I can't quite control. "Let me guess—you're trying to negotiate a better price."

"Actually, I was thinking about buying everything you've got left."

I blink at him. "Everything?"

"Every last piece." He straightens to his full height, and I have to crane my neck to maintain eye contact. "On one condition."

Here it comes. The catch. There's always a catch when something seems too good to be true. "Which is?"

"You tell me your name."

Of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn't it. I study his face, looking for some hint of mockery or ulterior motive, but all I see is genuine interest.

"Soreya." The name slips out before I can second-guess myself. "Soreya Venn."

"Korrun Thal." He extends one massive hand toward me, palm up. "And before you ask—yes, I'm serious about buying everything."

I stare at his outstretched hand for a moment before placing mine in it. His fingers close around mine with surprising gentleness, engulfing my hand completely. The contact sends warmth shooting up my arm.

"You don't even know what I'm charging."

"Doesn't matter." His thumb brushes across my knuckles, and I have to concentrate on breathing normally. "I've got a feeling it's worth whatever you're asking."

"You might change your mind when you see the state of some of these." I gesture toward the basket with my free hand, though I make no move to pull away from his touch. "Half of them should've been sold yesterday."

"Then I'll eat them today." He releases my hand, and I immediately miss the warmth. "Problem solved."

"All of them? There's enough fruit in here to feed a small army."

"Good thing I've got the appetite for it." That grin returns, lazy and confident. "Besides, can't have you standing out here until sunset trying to move bruised pears. The heat's only getting worse."

He's not wrong. The late afternoon sun beats down mercilessly, and the crowds are already thinning as people seek shelter indoors. In another hour, I'll be lucky to sell even half of what's left.

"You're either very generous or completely mad."

"Maybe both." He reaches into a small pouch at his waist and pulls out a handful of silver coins. "Which one do you prefer?"

I laugh before I can stop myself—actually laugh, not the polite chuckle I usually offer customers. "I haven't decided yet."

"Fair enough." He counts out the coins, far more than anything in my basket is worth. "Take your time figuring it out."

I stare at the silver coins in my palm, their weight more substantial than anything I've held in months. With all the fruit sold, for the first time in longer than I can remember, I have nowhere I need to be. No more customers to charm, no more fruit to protect from the heat.

"Well." I pocket the coins, hyperaware of Korrun's presence beside me. "I suppose that's my day finished."

"Mine too, actually." He hefts the now-full basket with one hand like it weighs nothing. "I was planning to stash these and head down to the beach for a run. Care to join me?"

The invitation catches me off guard. When was the last time someone asked me to do something just for the pleasure of it? Not because they needed something, not because I owed them labor or coin, but simply because they wanted my company.

"I don't really run." The words come out before I can think them through properly.

"Then we'll walk." He shrugs, the motion causing muscles to shift beneath that sable-brown hide. "The beach is still there whether we're moving fast or slow."

Something inside me loosens at the easy way he adjusts his plans. No irritation, no pressure. Just acceptance.

"I haven't been to the beach in..." I trail off, trying to remember. "Years, actually. Not since I was indentured."

"Then it's about time." Korrun starts walking toward the colosseum's side entrance, and I fall into step beside him. "Come on, let's get this fruit somewhere cool before it turns to mush."

The training facility behind the colosseum is a world I've only glimpsed from the outside. Stone corridors echo with our footsteps, and the air carries the metallic tang of weapons and leather. Practice rings stretch out in both directions, most empty now in the late afternoon heat.

"You train here?" I ask, watching him navigate the maze of rooms with familiar ease.

"Every day." He pushes open a heavy wooden door, revealing what looks like a storage room lined with shelves. "Been doing it for about eight years now."

"That's a long time." I lean against the doorframe as he sets the basket on a high shelf, well away from any prying hands. "Do you enjoy it?"

"Most days." He turns back to me, and there's something thoughtful in his expression. "There's something satisfying about watching someone discover what they're capable of. Seeing them push past what they thought were their limits."

The passion in his voice does something to my chest, makes it feel tight and warm at the same time. "Sounds like you're good at it."

"I try to be fair." He closes the door and we head back toward the main corridor. "Too many trainers think breaking someone down is the only way to build them up. Never made sense to me."

We emerge into the dying sunlight, and I have to squint against the glare. The crowds have thinned considerably, leaving just scattered groups making their way home.

"What about you?" Korrun asks as we walk toward the western edge of the city. "How long have you been working for the fruit shop?"