Chapter 5
Zara
Zara sighed.
“If you sigh one more time…” Liora flicked a sugar packet across the table, hitting Zara squarely in the arm.
Zara caught it, tore it open, and tipped the sugar into her coffee with a slow swirl. Then, without meaning to, she sighed again.
Liora groaned dramatically. “What did Abuelita always say? ‘Every time you sigh, you lose a little piece of your soul’?”
A reluctant smile tugged at Zara’s mouth. She remembered their grandmother saying that, usually while swatting one of her American grandchildren with a dish towel for being overly dramatic. The memory hit warm and sharp at the same time, softening the tightness in her chest just a little.
Liora leaned back in her chair, tapping her nails against her mug. “She also said, ‘Mija, don’t let your heart run faster than your feet.’ You’re overthinking again.”
Zara huffed, stirring her coffee. “How do you date around, then?”
“Easy,” Liora said, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t want to settle down, get paired off, or do any of that heteronormative bullshit.”
Zara gave a humorless little laugh. “If only it were that simple.”
They drifted into talking about the day’s assignments, about the briefing that ran long, about how Lord Eros’s assistant somehow managed to speak in both riddles and bullet points. Liora complained about paperwork; Zara complained about enchanted translation tablets glitching.
But underneath all of it, Zara’s thoughts kept circling back to Hektor.
He’d barely looked at me today.
No, that wasn’t fair. He’d looked. Just…quickly. Professionally.
Since happy hour earlier that week, they hadn’t had much time in the same room at all.
Every time she walked into a meeting, he was leaving another one.
Every time she was dispatched to handle logistics with Elian, he was being pulled aside by someone higher up in the chain.
They’d had, maybe, a few seconds of eye contact over a spread of maps, just enough for her stomach to do something annoying.
She wiped her thumb along the rim of her coffee cup.
Liora noticed. Of course she did.
“This better not be about him.”
Zara took a long drink of her coffee, letting the heat give her something to focus on instead of replying.
Liora groaned. “Oh, my gods, it is about him. Zara.”
Zara glared at her mug. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to,” Liora pointed at her. “You’re pretending you’re not stressed, but you absolutely are. Girl, listen. Don’t get yourself stuck on ‘silent brooding mountain man’ mode.”
Zara frowned. “That’s not—”
“You’re thinking about him,” she singsonged.
Zara scowled. “We haven’t even talked since happy hour.”
“So?” Liora shrugged. “Maybe he’s busy.”
“He’s always busy.”
“Zara,” Liora said, leaning forward, “everyone on this team is busy. But you? You’re acting like he got hit with a memory-wipe spell.”
Zara groaned softly. “I’m not acting like anything.”
“You’re brooding,” Liora corrected. “Big-time brooding. Premium-level brooding. Like, ‘I should be standing on a balcony with dramatic wind’ brooding.”
Zara rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. “Stop.”
“I’m just saying,” Liora went on, ignoring her, “you two talked once, had vibes, and now you’re convinced he forgot you exist.”
“He didn’t forget,” Zara muttered. “We’re just…working. Assigned different tasks.”
“Mhm,” Liora said, unconvinced. “Or maybe he’s also over there thinking, ‘Why hasn’t Zara looked at me today?’”
Zara snorted into her coffee. “You’re delusional.”
“Maybe,” Liora said, grinning, “but I’m not blind.”
Zara stared at the table, hating how warm her face felt.
“I’m just saying,” Liora cut in. “If you like him? Cool. If you don’t? Also cool. But don’t let your brain do the whole ‘doom-scroll your feelings’ thing.”
Zara blinked. “Is that…an idiom now?”
“It is when I say it,” Liora said confidently. “Point is, don’t spiral. Don’t soft-launch your emotions. And for the love of the Fates, don’t go full NPC waiting for him to make a move.”
Zara squeezed her eyes shut. “Why are you so exhausting?”
“And you’re crushing,” Liora said, sipping her drink. “Denial is a river, babe, and you are drowning in it.”
Zara set her cup down a little too hard. “I hate you.”
Liora grinned. “You love me.”
Zara rushed out of the break room before Liora could get another word in, clutching her coffee like a shield. The hallway felt too bright, too long, especially when her cheeks still felt suspiciously warm.
Their team’s office was quieter. Cooler. A rush of relief passed through her when she stepped inside.
Then she saw him.
Hektor was at his desk, broad shoulders hunched slightly, attention locked on his monitor. How had she not noticed he was here? Her pulse picked up in a way she immediately scolded herself for. She sipped her coffee and pretended her heartbeat wasn’t ridiculous.
She approached before she could overthink it.
On his screen, neon graphics flashed, arcing symbols, pulsing runes, the bright borderline-chaotic aesthetic of one of Vale Crossing’s most popular gossip sites.
“Lifting the Vale,” she said lightly. “Oh, I love that one.”
Hektor startled, just barely, his eyes flicked to her. “Zara. I didn’t notice you.”
“I could tell,” she teased, nodding at the screen. “Doing some research?”
He hesitated. “Something like that.”
“It’s a good peek into Vale Crossing,” she added, leaning one hip against the desk. “Don’t you think?”
Hektor’s jaw worked for a moment, like he was deciding how honest to be.
“It’s useful,” he finally admitted. “The posts are unfiltered. Citizens talk about things we won’t hear in official meetings.”
Zara blinked, pleasantly surprised. “So you do read it.”
He gave her a look that wasn’t quite a glare but definitely Hektor-coded irritation. “I read everything that helps me do my job.”
She fought a smile. “Right. Strictly professional.”
At that, his gaze flicked to her, brief and sharp, as if he was deciding whether there was another meaning hidden in her words.
She suddenly became very aware of how close she was standing.
“Did you need something?” he asked.
And something in his tone, low and careful, made her forget how to breathe for a second.
She lifted her cup and took a slow sip, buying herself half a second of boldness.
“Well,” she said, tilting her head, “I guess I should feel honored. You only read things that ‘help you do your job,’ and here you are talking to me.”
Hektor blinked once. Slowly. “I talk to you every day.”
“Yes, but that’s work talking.” She leaned a little closer, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret. “This is…fun talking.”
“I don’t have fun talking,” he stated flatly.
“You do,” she countered. “You just don’t admit it.”
His brow twitched, the smallest giveaway, but a crack in the armor nonetheless. Zara pounced on it.
“You know,” she continued lightly, “I had no idea you were such an avid follower of Alindale culture. Should I start quizzing you? Favorite district? Favorite tavern? Favorite local conspiracy theory?”
Hektor glared at his screen as if it had betrayed him. “I said I was working.”
“Mm-hmm. And I’m sure the post titled ‘Ten Weird Things Drakkons Do on Their Days Off’ is extremely mission-critical.”
“That is not what I was—” He stopped, redirected, glowered. “Zara.”
She beamed. “Yes, Hektor?”
He barely contained his growl. “You’re trying to provoke me.”
“No,” she said sweetly, “I’m trying to make sure you remember I exist. You know, since we’ve barely had any face time since happy hour.”
His golden eyes flicked back to hers. There was something different there, heat, or irritation, or focus so sharp it felt like it pinned her in place.
“You’re… loud today,” he muttered, as if that were an accusation.
She grinned. “I’m excited. I haven’t seen you in days. So yes, I’m loud. Deal with it.”
He stared at her. Just stared. And for a long moment, he looked like he was trying very, very hard not to react. Which only made her want to push more.
“Unless,” she added softly, “I’m bothering you.”
That finally got a reaction, a quick flash in his eyes she couldn’t read, followed by a steady, stubborn look.
“You don’t bother me,” he said gruffly.
Her pulse jumped. Her grin nearly slipped into something too revealing.
“Good,” she said. “Then I’ll keep talking.”
“Of course you will.”
“Of course I will,” she echoed, delighted.
She straightened, pretending it was no big deal, though her heart was doing an entire salsa routine.
“So,” she tapped the edge of his desk with her finger, “what exactly are you researching so seriously? Something top secret? Classified? Extra classified?”
Hektor didn’t look up from the screen. “It’s nothing.”
“Right, right. ‘Nothing.’ That’s the same answer you give when you’re annoyed, or when you’re embarrassed, or when you don’t know what to say.” She leaned closer, stage-whispering, “Which one is it this time?”
“It’s none of those,” he said, jaw tightening.
“Oh,” she said brightly, “so the fourth option: you’re lying.”
He shot her a look, a heavy, irritated Drakkon stare that would’ve melted steel but only made Zara smile wider.
“I don’t lie,” he muttered.
“You do,” she corrected. “Just very badly.”
His nostrils flared.
She glanced pointedly at the glowing screen.
“So…were you reading fan theories about phoenix shapeshifters? Or maybe looking up the ‘Best Date Spots in Alindale?’”
His head snapped toward her. “Why would I—”
“Oh my gods,” she gasped dramatically, “you were.”
“I was not.”
“You totally were.”
“I don’t date.”
Zara snorted. “You barely socialize. Maybe I can help you practice.”
“I don’t need practice.”
“Everyone needs practice,” she said with a teasing pat to his shoulder.
He froze. Entirely. Like she had pressed a button that shut him down.
Zara blinked. “…Did I break you?”
“I’m fine,” he said stiffly.
“You sure?” she teased. “You glitched a little.”
He glared.