Chapter 13 Hektor
Hektor
The grounds were already alive when they arrived.
Banners hung between stone pillars, deep reds and burnished golds catching the light, each emblazoned with the words Ancestral Rite Race.
The air carried the low hum of voices, Drakkon gathering in clusters, their size and presence making the space feel charged.
Zara stayed close to his side, and he adjusted his stride so she didn’t have to hurry.
“This event is in honor of ancient times,” he told her as they walked. “Before cities. Before treaties.”
She glanced around. “What is it?”
“A ceremonial race. Strength, endurance, control. Mostly for the younger Drakkon.”
He gestured toward the wide track cut into the earth, stone-smoothed by centuries of use. At one end stood massive harnesses, ornate and heavy, built for bodies far larger than those of humans.
“In ancient times,” he continued, “we pulled the chariots of Mount Olympus itself. And even during the Titan War, when the gods were riding into battle.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re serious.”
He nodded. “For our service, Zeus freed us. No more binding oaths. No more chains. This race is…remembrance. A way to show that strength still exists, but it’s now a choice. Not owned.”
She was quiet for a moment. “So, it’s not just about winning.”
“No, it’s about proving you can carry power without letting it rule you.”
She looked up at him then, something thoughtful in her expression. “That sounds very you.”
He huffed softly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
They didn’t get far before someone called his name.
Then another.
And another.
Drakkons stepped into his path, clasping his forearm, bowing their heads slightly, grinning widely. Voices overlapped, welcome back, good to see you, it’s been too long, each greeting carrying the same note of genuine excitement.
Hektor answered them easily, instinct taking over, posture shifting into something familiar and assured. Zara stayed at his side as he introduced her to each of them in turn, and he watched their expressions soften, charmed by her almost immediately.
After the fifth interruption, she leaned in and murmured, “Why are they acting like they haven’t seen you in a while?”
“Because they haven’t.”
She frowned. “But you’ve been back.”
“I have. When I came back before, it was for business. Meetings. Accounts. If I saw anyone, it was my parents, and then I left again. I didn’t…socialize.”
“So you’ve basically been ghosting your entire species.”
He snorted. “When you put it like that.”
“Impressive,” she grinned. “Introverted dragon energy.”
“Drakkon,” he corrected automatically.
“Even worse.”
“You’re not wrong, though,” he shook his head. “I kept my head down. Easier that way.”
She squeezed his hand. “Well. Joke’s on you. Now you’re parading around with a halfling who asks too many questions.”
“Everyone already noticed,” he said dryly.
“Good,” she replied. “I’d hate to be subtle.”
Another Drakkon approached, younger, eyes bright with excitement at seeing him. Hektor greeted him, exchanged a few words, and when they moved on again, Zara bumped her shoulder lightly against his.
“See? You survived social interaction.”
“Barely.”
The crowd began to shift as participants were called forward, and the ground seemed to vibrate with anticipation. Hektor felt the weight of it settle into his bones, old and familiar.
The race began with a low, vibrating horn that seemed to ripple through the stands.
He watched Zara lean forward, eyes wide, utterly captivated as the chariots surged onto the track.
The Drakkons ran in teams, massive and powerful, muscles flexing beneath scaled skin as they pulled the ornate chariots behind them.
Gold and obsidian gleamed in the sunlight, banners snapping in the wind.
“Oh, my gods,” she breathed. “They’re incredible.”
Hektor stayed close, one hand resting at the small of her back as he explained how the lanes were chosen, how the chariots were balanced to test strength without harming the runners, how endurance mattered just as much as speed.
“That one’s overextending,” he murmured as a pair surged ahead too early. “They’ll burn out before the final turn.”
She glanced at him, impressed. “You sound like you’ve watched this your whole life.”
“I have. And raced it.”
Her head snapped back to him. “You did not just casually drop that.”
He smiled, just a little.
When the first heat ended, the crowd erupted in applause. The energy was electric, loud, and alive in a way as they moved toward the VIP box for drinks, slipping through guarded doors and into the shaded space overlooking the track. Hektor took two steps in—
And stopped short.
Nyxion stood near the railing, one arm protectively around a woman who was very, very pregnant. She was glowing in that unmistakable way as she laughed at something someone had said.
Eleonora.
Hektor felt the dread hit instantly, sharp and unwelcome. His hand came up without thinking, closing around Zara’s wrist as he subtly shifted their path back toward the corridor they’d just come from.
“I thought we were getting a drink?” Zara said, glancing toward the bar.
Before he could answer, a voice cut through the noise. “Hektor!” Nyxion lifted a hand, already smiling, with Eleonora beside him, one palm resting on her stomach.
Hektor felt his mental shields snap into place, smooth and practiced. Be calm. He forced his shoulders to relax, his expression into something neutral, unbothered. He was suddenly aware of eyes on him, on them, of whispers waiting to happen.
Zara leaned closer. “What’s happening?”
Nothing, he told himself. It had to be nothing.
But it wasn’t. Not really.
This was the exact kind of moment people remembered.
Hektor with his new girl. Nyxion, heir-apparent.
Eleonora, very visibly pregnant. Everyone knew the story.
And with Nyxion inching toward public prominence, this was exactly the kind of thing that could end up dissected on Lifting the Vale if it went sideways.
“You must be the one everyone’s been talking about,” Eleonora said, already stepping closer.
“Eleonora,” Nyxion said. “This is Zara.”
Zara straightened immediately. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, offering her hand.
Eleonora took it with both of hers, smiling. “You too. I’ve heard so much.”
Something in Hektor’s chest twisted. Zara was calm.
Too calm. He could almost feel the moment the pieces clicked together in her head, the quiet math she was doing without saying a word.
He felt it in his chest when her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
And he knew her well enough now to recognize the difference.
Before anything else could be said, someone called Nyxion’s name from across the box. He rolled his eyes. “I swear, I can’t walk three steps today.”
Eleonora laughed. “Go. I’ll be fine.” Nyxion kissed her cheek and stepped away, pulled into another conversation almost immediately.
Hektor’s arm instinctively went around Zara as he looked at Eleonora and felt a jolt of emotions he couldn’t quite name.
It had been a while since he’d seen her, and honestly, she hadn’t been on his mind until now.
Now here she was, standing tall and composed, and he felt the strange pull of old emotions.
Zara was the first to speak. “Congratulations on your pregnancy. How have you been feeling?”
“Thank you,” Eleonora smiled, a small, controlled gesture that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I told Nyxion I was tired of being cooped up. If I have to be bored, I’d rather be bored somewhere exciting.”
Zara’s hand brushed against Hektor’s side, and he noticed the subtle stiffness in her posture, the way she held herself a little more formally. He kept his arm around her, grounding both of them without a word.
“Well,” Zara said, tilting her head, “being stuck at home would drive anyone a little crazy.” Her words were friendly but careful, like testing the waters without revealing too much.
Eleonora’s gaze lingered on Hektor for a moment before flicking back to Zara. There was a faint edge in her smile, the unspoken question of who this new person was, what place she held. “It really is good to see you back, Hektor,” she said softly. “It’s nice to see you…settled.”
Hektor felt the snap of irritation, sharp and sudden, but he swallowed it down. He gave a curt nod, murmured a goodbye, and turned away before anything else could be said.
He didn’t slow until they were through the doors and into a quieter corridor. Even then, he kept walking, Zara trying to keep up with him.
“Hektor. What is going on with you?”
He didn’t answer.
“Hektor.” She tugged his hand harder this time, forcing him to stop. “You’re freaking me out.”
He turned to her then, tension tight in his shoulders.
“I’m fine.”
She stared at him. “You’re clearly not.”
Silence stretched. He could feel himself closing off, instinctively pulling inward, walls going up brick by brick.
“I’m trying to understand,” Zara said carefully. “But you’re not giving me anything to work with.”
“It’s complicated.”
Her expression flickered with hurt, frustration, restraint. “Everything is complicated. That’s not an answer.”
“I just don’t want this turning into something it doesn’t need to be.”
“And how am I supposed to know what that is if you won’t talk to me?”
He said nothing.
That was the worst part.
Zara exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I’m trying here, Hektor. But I can’t understand you if you keep shutting me out.”
He stood there, caught between wanting to pull her close and wanting to retreat entirely, and for the first time that day, the roar of the stadium felt very far away.