Chapter 11 Hektor
Hektor
Hektor woke slowly, warm, comfortable, and cocooned in a softness he didn’t immediately recognize. Then he opened his eyes and found Zara’s face inches from his.
For a moment, he forgot to breathe.
She looked…serene. Completely at peace. None of the mischief that sparked in her when she was plotting something, none of the fire that made her stomp around when she was annoyed, none of the wicked glint she got when she was teasing him. Just…soft and almost impossibly unguarded.
She really had him dazed and on his toes. How someone so small, so young, could completely unravel him was a mystery he was beginning to accept he would never solve.
Her lashes fluttered, and she blinked awake, a little disoriented. Then she saw him, and a slow, sleepy smile curved her lips. “Good. I thought it was all a dream.”
“It better not have been,” he muttered.
She giggled, quiet, morning-soft, delighted, and he felt it like a warm palm pressed to his chest.
Then she winced. “Oh no. I have dragon breath.”
“What?” he asked, genuinely confused.
“Dragon breath,” she repeated solemnly, like he should know this.
“That’s insulting,” he said flatly.
She burst into laughter, sitting up and stretching. “Well, it’s not pleasant, so I’m going to the bathroom.”
She hopped off the bed, and he watched her head toward the bathroom, barely-there shorts, hair messy and perfect.
Zara had a way of moving that was all feminine ease—soft curves, warm skin, and an unselfconscious confidence that he found unfairly distracting.
She moved like she had no concept of being fragile, like the world should adjust to her rather than the other way around.
He had to be careful. She deserved slow. She deserved intention. She deserved him not acting like he’d been starved for years, even if that’s exactly how it felt.
He exhaled and grabbed his phone from the nightstand, thumb unlocking the screen to check Lifting the Vale. No posts about the fight at Adder’s and no videos of a Drakkon blowing fire into the sky.
Good. He did not want to deal with that chaos.
But farther down the feed, he saw a headline about celebrities arriving in Drakkoria for some major event. He grimaced. He was very glad to be out of the territory with no obligations, no forced mingling, and no awkward small talk.
The bathroom door opened, and Zara padded back to the bed. “I haven’t heard from anyone,” she said, flopping onto the mattress. “No texts or anything. They must’ve had too much fun last night.”
“Well, the drinks were really good.”
“Yeah, they were. Let me check my email. Oh, Pythorus gave an update.”
They skimmed the message together. The basilisks’ mothers were out of town on a mission for their leader and wouldn’t return until next week. Perseus had replied, saying they could take the next few days easy and work remotely if needed.
“That’s nice of him,” Zara murmured.
Hektor set his phone aside and studied her. She looked relaxed. Curious. Open.
“Why don’t we go to Drakkoria?” he said.
Her head snapped up. “Really?”
“Yes,” he said simply. “You seemed interested when we talked about it. And it’s…home. I can show you around.”
Her smile grew slow and warm, like sunrise creeping over stone. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” he repeated, with none of the hesitation he’d carried before. “I want you to see it.”
She leaned in and kissed him, soft and sweet.
“Hmm,” he pulled back a fraction, smirking. “Better. Still a little dragon breath.”
She swatted his arm and laughed, bright and alive, and Hektor knew, without a doubt, that he’d follow that sound anywhere.
The drive to Drakkoria felt like its own little world, hours sealed away in the quiet hum of the car, mountains rising and falling around them. They talked easily, like every mile smoothed another edge between them.
Zara told him about Santa Fe, about the beautiful sunsets in the fall, about running wild with Liora in the desert, and how the sky always felt too big to put into words.
She talked about her art, mostly soft gradients and stormy cloudscapes, but also charcoal sketches she never showed anyone because they felt too personal.
Hektor found himself telling her things he hadn’t realized he hadn’t told anyone.
About growing up in his clan’s quarter of Drakkoria.
About patrols on the cliffs, the feeling of wind under his scales, and how quiet the nights could be when the whole city slept.
He told her about his parents, about his work, about how his life had been simple and solid… and then not. Not since she’d shown up.
Somewhere along the road, she rested her head on his arm, talking softly, and the intimacy of it was almost overwhelming in its quietness.
By the time they reached Drakkoria, it was past midnight, city lights glittering across the mountain like scattered gold. Zara had fallen asleep, cheek smushed adorably against the window. Hektor smiled, unbuckled her gently, and scooped her into his arms. Even now, she trusted him completely.
He laid her on the bed, brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, and settled beside her.
And for the second morning in a row, he woke before she did.
He liked it. More than he should have.
Her breathing was slow, her hair spilling across his arm. Peaceful again, his favorite version of her, the one only he got to see.
Then her phone buzzed.
Buzzed again.
And again.
Zara groaned, burying her face in his chest before blindly reaching for it. She curled into his side, warm and half-asleep, scrolling through what looked like a small war happening across her message threads.
He watched her expression shift with each rapid-fire text.
“So, what are we doing today?” she asked, eyes still glued to her screen.
“We could just stay in,” he suggested.
“Mm-hmm,” she said absently. “The only way I’m staying in this bed is if you’re for breakfast.”
He blinked. She hadn’t even looked up.
“Are you…using my principles against me?” he asked.
“You bet,” she replied instantly, not missing a beat.
Then she finally lifted her gaze, that wicked little smile blooming, sweet, certain, and absolutely lethal.
And Hektor realized it was getting very, very hard to say no to her.
“Zara.”
She lit up instantly. “Oh, you know how much I love it when you use that tone.” She started leaning toward him like she was about to climb into his lap.
“Get dressed,” he said firmly. “We’ll go to a café here in the neighborhood.”
Her eyes brightened. “Oh, coffee?”
“Yes. Coffee.”
That got her moving.
They dressed, Zara humming while she rifled through her bag, Hektor pretending not to be distracted by the way she kept brushing up against him. She was still texting the gremlins in jagged bursts and narrating the chaos to him.
“They have so many questions,” she said, slipping her phone into her bag. “And whining. Lots of whining. Apparently, we ‘abandoned’ them. They’re staying in Solkaris for a couple of days.”
The moment they stepped outside, Zara’s attention was instantly everywhere. The morning sun spilled across the carved stone pathways, terraces built into the mountain, and homes shaped out of cliffs and crystalline rock.
She slowed in front of every other building.
“This is gorgeous,” she murmured. “It’s like the architecture is part of the mountain.”
“It is,” he said, amused. “Drakkoria expanded outward and inward, not upward.”
“It’s nothing like what I imagined. I need to draw this, like all of this. I’m gonna need so many pencils.”
Her enthusiasm was infectious, and Hektor found himself smiling at nothing.
They reached the café, sunlight spilling through amethyst windows. Breakfast was simple but good: spiced tea cakes, fruit, coffee strong enough to wake the dead.
And the gossip.
Zara was laser-focused.
He listened, fascinated despite himself, as the table behind them argued about a politician’s affair, and another whispered about a dragon lord’s disastrous speech.
“Is it always like this?” Zara whispered.
“This is mild,” Hektor said. “We’re in the domestic district. For real chaos, you’d have to go closer to the market—”
“This is better than Lifting the Vale,” she cut in, grinning at him.
He nearly spat out his coffee.
“Don’t let anyone hear you say that,” he muttered.
But Zara only laughed, leaning back with that spark in her eyes, like Drakkoria was hers to unravel, and he was hers to tease.
After breakfast, they wandered in a different direction, taking the long way through the residential ridge.
Zara paused constantly—kneeling to touch the crystalline steps that shimmered faintly, pointing out the sculpted rock gardens perched along the cliff ledges, tugging on his sleeve whenever she spotted something new.
“It’s like living in a fantasy art book,” she said, turning in a slow circle as sunlight split into colors through the quartz formations. “Why didn’t you show me this sooner?”
“Because you were busy pretending to date a basilisk,” he said dryly.
She elbowed him and kept walking.
Eventually, she turned to him, bright-eyed. “Okay. I’ve seen cafés, markets, cliff houses, and a rock bridge that probably violates every safety law ever. Now you have to show me your house.”
He tried to sound unaffected. “Fine.”
But she practically bounced the entire way, making it impossible for him not to smile.
Inside, Zara spun once in the entryway. “Hektor, this reminds me of cabins in the Upperworld ski towns. But…more dramatic.”
“It’s just a den.”
“No,” she said firmly. “It’s you as a house.”
She explored the rooms, delighted by the smallest things, the hammered metal light fixtures, the stone carvings in the hallway, the shelves of books arranged more by instinct than organization.
When they reached his study, she stepped inside with a little gasp. “Oh wow. Okay, yes. This is definitely where the heavy brooding happens.”
“I don’t brood.”
“You absolutely do.”
Before he could argue, she hopped onto his desk, swinging her legs slightly as she crooked a finger at him.