17. Theron
17
THERON
I sit through the monthly Merchant's Guild meeting, my mind half on the trade reports and half on getting home to the kids and Lyra. The familiar mahogany-paneled chamber feels stuffier than usual today, weighted with the stares of two dozen merchant families.
Marcus rises from his chair, his steel-gray fur gleaming in the lamplight. The gold rings in his horns catch the light as he adjusts his perfectly tailored vest. "Before we conclude, I must address a concerning development. One that affects the reputation of our entire guild."
My fingers tighten on the arm of my chair. I know that tone - the same one he used when he drove Dex's wife away.
"Our esteemed colleague Theron seems to have acquired a... pet." Marcus's cold blue eyes fix on me. "A human female, living freely in his home with his children. One must question his judgment, allowing such a creature near-"
The chair clatters behind me as I surge to my feet. The room falls silent. "Choose your next words carefully, Steelhorn." My voice comes out as a low growl.
"Come now, Theron. We all understand the appeal of exotic pets, but to let one near your children? What would Cassandra think-"
The mention of my late wife shatters what remains of my control. Not because of my feelings for her. No, I know that what I have with Lyra is true, unlike what I had with Cassandra. It's what she reminds everyone else of - what Marcus thinks he's proving by bringing her up.
I cross the room in three strides, my horns lowering. "Lyra is not a pet." Each word drops like a stone. "She is a skilled healer who has done more good for this city in a month than you have in your entire privileged life."
Marcus's lip curls. "Defending a human's honor? How far the mighty have fallen. First you drag common blood into noble circles, now this-"
My fist connects with his jaw before he can finish. He staggers back, knocking over a chair. Blood trickles from his split lip into his steel-gray fur.
They all see me as a commoner? I'll give them something to fucking set me apart then. If I'll never be on their level then why do I try their damn politics?
"If you ever speak about my family again," I snarl, standing over him, "I will remind you why the Blackhorn name was feared in the trading routes before it was respected in the guild halls."
The other merchants watch in stunned silence. I've just violated about a dozen guild protocols, but right now, watching Marcus wipe blood from his mouth, I don't give a damn about protocols.
Marcus struggles to his feet, dabbing at his bloodied lip. His composure cracks, revealing the sneer I've always known lurked beneath his polished exterior. "At least I understand the importance of maintaining our bloodlines. Those poor children, forced to endure a human's attempts at mothering-"
"Shut your mouth." My chest heaves as fury courses through my veins.
"They deserve a proper minotaur mother, someone who understands our ways. Not some common human playing at-"
I roar and charge, my horns catching him in the midsection. We crash through the guild table, sending papers flying. My fist finds his face again and again. Years of loading cargo and working the docks have given me strength his soft merchant's life can't match.
Marcus kicks up, catching me in the ribs. He may be privileged, but he still has a minotaur's natural fighting instinct. "Look at you," he spits, "proving exactly why you're unfit to raise them. Nothing but a common thug-"
I grab his horns, slamming his head back against the floor. "My children are none of your concern."
He headbutts me, stars exploding behind my eyes. We roll across the floor, scattering chairs, each trying to gain the upper hand. Blood - his or mine, I can't tell - stains the expensive carpet.
"Theron, stop!" Dex's massive arms wrap around me from behind, hauling me off Marcus. I struggle against his grip, my hooves leaving gouges in the wooden floor.
"Let me go!"
"Not until you calm down." Dex's voice is steel. Two other merchants grab Marcus, who's still trying to lunge at me despite his bloody nose and swelling eye.
I strain against Dex's hold, my vision red with rage. "You want to talk about unfit parents?" I snarl at Marcus. "Ask your wife about the bastards you've sired in every port from here to-"
"ENOUGH!" The guild master's voice thunders through the chamber. It takes three more merchants to help Dex drag me toward the door, while Marcus shouts threats through his broken teeth.
Dex drags me all the way home, and I finally stop fighting halfway. I let him get me inside, slipping into my study before my kids can see the mess I've made, the blood matted in my fur. Immediately, he goes to the bar on the wall, and I watch him pour two generous measures.
"You look like shit." He slides one glass across my desk.
"You should see the other guy." I wince as I reach for the drink, my bruised ribs protesting.
"Oh, I did. Pretty sure he'll need new teeth." Dex settles his bulk into the chair across from me, the wood groaning beneath his weight. His green eyes study me over the rim of his glass. "Want to tell me what that was really about?"
I drain half my whiskey in one swallow. "You were there. He called Lyra a pet."
"Marcus has been calling people worse for years. Never saw you lose control like that before."
I run a hand through my fur where the blood has matted it. "He brought the children into it. Said they needed a proper minotaur mother. Lyra does just fine."
But she's not their mother, something I keep forgetting. She's just healing Mira.
"Ah." Dex leans back, his horn rings catching the lamplight. "And you realized you'd burn everything to the ground to protect what you've built with her."
The truth of his words hits harder than Marcus's headbutt. My fingers tighten around the glass. "I would. Gods help me, I'd watch every trade route and contract go up in flames before I let him hurt them." The admission scrapes my throat raw. "And that terrifies me, because Marcus won't let this go. He'll use it against us somehow."
"Of course he will." Dex tops off my glass. "That's what snakes do. But you're not alone in this fight, my friend."
I stare into the amber liquid, seeing Lyra's face, hearing the children's laughter. Everything I never knew I needed until it was right in front of me. "I can't lose them, Dex."
"Then we'll make damn sure you don't."
The study door opens and Mrs. Bramble bustles in, Lyra close behind her with a healing kit. My housekeeper's stern expression could curdle milk.
"I'll leave you to it." Dex rises with surprising grace for his size, shooting me a knowing look. "Try not to break any more merchants this month."
Lyra sets her kit on my desk, copper-red hair falling loose from her braid as she bends to examine my face. I notice that Mrs. Bramble slips out with Dex and shuts the door.
Her fingers brush my jaw, gentle but sure. "What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking some people need to learn when to keep their mouths shut." I try to turn away but she catches my chin.
"Hold still, you stubborn man." She dabs a stinging herb paste on my cuts. "Fighting in the guild hall? You could lose everything you've built."
The warmth of her touch seeps into my bones. Her green eyes flash with both worry and exasperation as she works. "I know you can handle yourself in a fight, but there are better ways to-"
"He called you a pet." The words scrape out of my throat. "Said the children needed a proper mother."
Her hands pause on my face. Something fierce and protective flashes across her features before she resumes cleaning my wounds. "And you thought the best response was to redecorate the guild hall with his face?"
A laugh rumbles in my chest despite the pain. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Impossible man." She presses harder than necessary on a particularly tender spot, making me wince. But her other hand strokes soothingly through my fur, contradicting her stern tone. "What am I going to do with you?"
The gentleness in her touch, the worry in her eyes - it crashes over me like a wave. No one since my mother has fussed over me like this, has cared enough to scold and tend to me in the same breath. Even Cassandra kept her distance when I was injured, sending servants instead.
My chest tightens with an emotion I'm not ready to name. I catch Lyra's hand against my cheek, holding it there. The size difference between us still startles me sometimes - her delicate fingers nearly lost in my grip. Everything I've built, everything I care about, suddenly feels as fragile as her bones beneath my calloused palm.
Our eyes lock as I hold her hand against my face. Her pulse flutters beneath my fingers like a trapped bird. The scent of her healing herbs mingles with something uniquely Lyra - sunshine and wild flowers and determination.
"I would do it again," I murmur, watching the candlelight dance in her green eyes. "Anyone who threatens what we've built here..."
"Shh." She traces the curve of my horn with her free hand, a touch so gentle it makes my breath catch. "No more fighting tonight."
I lean into her touch, drawn by the warmth radiating from her small frame. She steps between my knees, tilting my face up to examine her handiwork. The size difference between us should make me feel monstrous, but somehow she makes me feel... cherished.
"Your ribs need tending too," she whispers, fingers trailing down to the buttons of my shirt.
I catch her hands, pressing a kiss to each palm. "Lyra..."
She meets my gaze steadily, unflinching. "Let me take care of you, Theron."
The last of my resistance crumbles. I stand, sweeping her into my arms as I rise. Her surprised laugh warms something deep in my chest as I carry her toward my chambers. There's only one thing I need right now and it's her.