Felix, a lonely Minotaur living on a remote farm in Minnesota, has his quiet life shattered when a goddess arrives with Betsy and her infant son, Apollo.

Rain ran from Felix’s horns and down the steps beneath his feet.

Commander Vale stood beyond the porch with twice as many people as before. Four archers took positions near the gate. Others carried shields and short spears.

Behind Felix, the door opened a few inches.

“Stay inside,” he said.

Betsy’s voice came through the gap. “I’m here.”

Vale heard her. “Bring the child out, and nobody else needs to be hurt.”

“He stays with his mother,” Felix said.

Vale lifted a hand. Two shield bearers advanced. Felix held his ground until they reached the steps.

“Don’t make them do this,” he told Vale.

One soldier lunged. Felix caught the spear shaft and snapped it against the porch rail. He took the broken halves away and set them on the wet ground.

The soldier stared at his empty hands.

“Go back,” Felix said.

A second came from the side. Felix turned to block him, and three more rushed the porch. Their combined weight drove him into the wall. Wood cracked behind his shoulders.

Betsy opened the door wider. Apollo cried out.

“Felix!”

“I’m all right.”

He could have thrown the soldiers across the yard. He knew it, and they knew it too. One stared up at him, terrified, as Felix eased the man’s arm away from his throat.

“I won’t hurt you,” Felix said.

“Then move,” the soldier answered.

Felix planted a hoof against the boards. “I won’t do that either.”

For a moment, nobody moved. Rain pattered on the porch roof. Vale watched from the yard, judging how much force he would need to get past a creature who refused to strike back.

“Take his legs,” Vale ordered.

The soldiers shifted. Felix pulled free before they could bring him down. He stepped between them and the open door, forcing them to give ground. One shield fell. Another man slipped on the wet steps, and Felix caught him by the coat before he struck his head.

The man scrambled away.

Betsy saw it all. She held Apollo beneath her shawl, whispering to him as his cries sharpened.

Vale’s gaze found her. “Mrs. Betsy. Your child needs people who understand him.”

“You left him crying in my arms,” she said. “Where were you then?”

“I didn’t know he existed.”

“Someone sent you here. Ask that person.”

Vale’s face hardened. “I have my orders.”

Felix moved one step forward. “Then take your men and tell whoever gave them that the child is safe.”

A soldier struck Felix across the back with a pole. Felix staggered, caught himself against the wall, and turned. The soldier froze.

Felix took the pole from him and laid it beside the broken spear.

“How many times,” he asked Vale, “do we have to do this?”

Vale looked at the doorway. He looked at the archers waiting by the gate. Rain had soaked their sleeves, and their bowstrings were sheltered beneath their coats.

Felix followed his gaze. “They can’t see the child clearly. Tell them to lower their bows.”

“You’re protecting an omen.”

“I’m protecting a family.”

Vale’s mouth tightened. He raised his arm.

Betsy stepped fully onto the porch behind Felix. Apollo’s crying had stopped. A faint gold light seeped through the blanket at the child’s hand.

One archer lowered his bow without being told. Another saw the glow and backed away.