He snorted. “I’m not one of your dusty books.”
“Obviously not. You’re much more interesting.” I took another bite of cookie for courage. “And, if you’re worried I’ll expose your existence, I’ll sign an NDA or blood oath or whatever you prefer. I’ve been the keeper of plenty of secrets—ask anyone about Mrs. Henderson’s overdue romance novel situation.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. Had I almost made him smile?
“Look,” I continued, “I understand your hesitation. But I’m genuinely interested in your work. Not because you’re a… minotaur,” I lowered my voice on the last word, “but because what you described sounds architecturally significant. And,” I added, seeing his skeptical expression, “I promised to help with my ladder situation, so I owe you.”
“I haven’t helped yet,” he pointed out.
“You will,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “And I’d like to see examples of your work before you build something for the library.”
He exhaled heavily, a sound like wind through a mountain pass. “You’re persistent.”
“It’s a librarian superpower.” I smiled. “We have to track down patrons who’ve hadThe Complete Encyclopedia of Beetleschecked out for three months.”
Another almost-twitch of his mouth. Progress.
The café had grown busier around us, the late evening crowd filtering in. Rion’s massive shoulders tensed further as a group of college students claimed the table nearest ours.
“This isn’t the place to discuss it,” he said abruptly, rising to his full height. My neck craned to maintain eye contact. “If—if—I were to consider showing you one project, there would be conditions.”
My heart leapt. “What conditions?”
“No photographs. No sharing the location. No bringing others. No touching anything without permission.” His eyes narrowed. “And you must stay within my sight at all times.”
The list felt ominously like the rules for visiting a dangerous predator at the zoo, but I nodded eagerly. “Agreed.”
He studied me for a long moment, then reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a business card. The thick, cream-colored paper bore only a phone number, the same one I’d been texting, and the wordsR. Asterion, Architectural Solutionsin an elegant serif font.
“Text me your address tomorrow morning,” he said, his tone making it clear he already regretted this decision. “I’ll pick you up at noon.”
“Tomorrow?” I squeaked.
“Problem?”
“No! Tomorrow’s perfect. It’s my day off.”
He nodded once, sharply, then gathered his container of cookies, leaving the last two on a napkin beside my coffee. “Until tomorrow, then.”
I watched his massive body navigate carefully through the café tables, his shoulders hunched beneath his coat, hat pulled low. He paused at the door, turning slightly.
“Bring sensible shoes,” he called back. “No open toes.”
With that final instruction, he ducked through the doorway and disappeared.
I sat for several minutes, staring at the business card between my fingers, wondering if I’d hallucinated the entire exchange. Had I really just invited myself to a minotaur’s house?
By 11:30the next morning, I’d changed outfits four times, rejected two pairs of shoes as not “sensible” enough, and checked my phone approximately seven hundred times to make sure I hadn’t dreamed yesterday’s encounter.
I finally settled on dark jeans, a soft floral blouse, and my most comfortable ankle boots. Professional enough to show I took this seriously, casual enough that I wouldn’t look ridiculous if we were trekking through construction sites.
For my architectural tour with a minotaur. Just a normal Tuesday in the life of Clara Bellweather.
I’d barely slept. After returning home from the café, I’d pulled every mythology book from my shelves and spent hours refreshing my knowledge of minotaurs, labyrinths, and Greek mythology. Most accounts portrayed the Minotaur—capital M, the original one—as a mindless, bloodthirsty beast who devoured Athenian youths. Clearly, that wasn’t the full story.
Was Rion a descendant of the original Minotaur? A different species entirely? Did he eat humans? The biscuits suggested he enjoyed normal food, at least.
I’d finally fallen asleep around 3:00 AM, mythology books scattered across my bed, only to jolt awake at 7:00 with a new worry: What did one wear to visit a minotaur’s labyrinth?
