Page 2 of The Minotaur’s Little Peach

"Three years as a free woman. Seven before that as Indentured." The words come easier than they usually do. "I was young and stupid and needed to learn a trade. Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Ten years is a long stretch." His voice carries no judgment, just genuine interest. "You must know every piece of fruit in that market by now."

"Every blemish, every season, every trick to make them look better than they are." I laugh, surprised by the humor I find in it. "Though I'm not sure that counts as valuable knowledge."

"Knowledge is knowledge." We turn down a narrow street that slopes toward the water, and I can already smell the salt air. "Besides, you handled that customer earlier like you'd been doing it your whole life."

"Which customer?"

"Me." He grins down at me, and there's something boyish about the expression despite his size. "Most people don't tell minotaur they're oversized to their face."

Heat creeps up my neck again. "Most people probably have better sense than I do."

"Or maybe they're just more boring."

The street opens up suddenly, revealing a stretch of golden sand that meets blue-green water in a line that seems to go on forever. My breath catches. I'd forgotten how vast it looks, how the horizon stretches beyond what the eye can follow.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Korrun's voice has gone softer, almost reverent.

"I'd forgotten." I step onto the sand, feeling it shift beneath my feet. The sensation is foreign after years of stone streets and wooden floors. "How often do you come down here?"

"Few times a week, usually." He kicks off his sandals and gestures for me to do the same. "Good for clearing your head when the training gets intense."

The sand is warm between my toes, still holding heat from the day's sun. We walk parallel to the water's edge, close enough that the waves occasionally reach our feet with cool fingers.

"So what does training fighters actually involve?" I ask, genuinely curious. "I've seen the matches, but never thought much about what happens before."

"Depends on the fighter." Korrun's hands move as he talks, illustrating his words. "Some come in thinking they know everything, need their egos checked. Others are so nervous they can barely hold a weapon steady."

"Which type are harder to work with?"

"The overconfident ones, usually. Hard to teach someone who thinks they don't need to learn.

" He chuckles, and the sound rumbles through me like distant thunder.

"Though I had one kid last year who was so scared he threw up every time he entered the ring.

Took weeks just to get him to stop shaking. "

"Did he improve?"

"Won his first match two months later." There's pride in Korrun's voice, warm and genuine. "Not because he was the strongest or the fastest, but because he learned to think. Sometimes that's more important than raw skill."

A wave larger than the others rushes up the beach, soaking us both to the ankles. The water is shockingly cold after the heat of the day, and I gasp before dissolving into laughter.

"Warned you the beach was still here," Korrun says, his own laughter mixing with mine.

"I deserved that for forgetting how sneaky water can be."

We continue walking, the conversation flowing as easily as the waves beside us.

He asks about the different types of produce, the seasonal changes, the customers who make my day difficult.

I find myself telling him things I've never shared with anyone—how Master Theren still treats me like an indentured servant half the time, how I dream of maybe saving enough to open my own shop someday.

"What would you sell?" he asks. "In this hypothetical shop of yours?"

"Not fruit." The answer comes without hesitation. "Maybe herbs. Medicines. Things people actually need, not just want."

"You know about herbs?"

"Some. Picked up bits and pieces over the years." I bend to pick up a shell, smooth and white with pink edges. "There's this woman, Mirath, who comes to the market sometimes. She taught me about gankoya root for morning sickness, zabilla for burns. Small things, but useful."

"Useful is good." Korrun stops walking and turns to face me fully. "Useful means you're helping people."

Something in his expression makes my pulse quicken. The way he looks at me—like what I'm saying matters, like I matter—is unfamiliar and intoxicating.

The sun sits lower now, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that reflect off the water. The air is finally beginning to cool, though warmth still radiates from the sand beneath our feet.

"I should probably head back soon," I say reluctantly, though every part of me wants to stay here as the stars come out. "Master Theren will want his coin, and he gets irritable when he has to wait."

"Of course." Korrun nods, but I catch something that might be disappointment flickering across his features. "Don't want to keep you from your responsibilities."

We turn and begin the walk back toward the city, our pace slower than before. Neither of us seems eager for this to end.

"Thank you," I say as the buildings come back into view. "For the fruit, and for... this. It's been nice."

"Nice?" He raises an eyebrow, that teasing grin returning. "That's the best you can do?"

"Fine. It's been wonderful." The admission comes easier than it should. "Happy now?"

"Getting there."

We reach the edge of the market district, where the stone streets begin again and the familiar bustle of evening commerce surrounds us. The transition from sand to stone feels jarring after the softness of the beach.

"This is where I leave you," I say, though I make no move to go.

"Seems like it." Korrun's voice has gone quiet again, thoughtful. "Soreya?"

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you told me my frame was oversized."

I laugh, surprised by the genuine warmth in my chest. "I'm glad you didn't take offense."

We stand there for a moment longer, neither quite ready to break whatever this is between us. Finally, I force myself to take a step backward.

"Goodnight, Korrun."

"Goodnight."

I turn and walk toward Master Theren's shop, feeling his eyes on me until I turn the corner. The familiar scents of dust and spice fill the air as merchants close up for the day, but everything feels different somehow. Brighter.

My hand goes to the coins in my pocket, solid proof that today actually happened. That a minotaur trainer bought all my fruit just to hear my name, then spent the afternoon walking on the beach with me like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I catch my reflection in a shop window as I pass, and there's something in my face I haven't seen in years. Something light and hopeful and almost giddy.

I'm smiling.

Really, truly smiling in a way that makes my cheeks ache and my eyes bright. When was the last time that happened? When was the last time anything made me feel this alive, this present in my own skin?

The coins jingle softly as I walk, a musical reminder of unexpected kindness and easy laughter. Of amber eyes that looked at me like I was worth seeing.