“Zara,” he warned.
“Yes, Hektor?” Innocent. Weaponized.
He didn’t shake her off. He told himself it was because they were in public, in a basilisk stronghold, where touch signaled alliance and safety. Nothing to do with the spark rushing up his arm.
Nothing at all.
“Let me get checked in,” he said, stepping toward the carved front desk.
She remained attached.
Of course she did.
This assignment was going to be hell.
And, he admitted to himself, grudgingly, the kind he was beginning not to dread.
“Wait, before you check in,” Zara said, tugging lightly at his sleeve.
He paused. Never good when things were prefaced like that.
She cleared her throat, smoothing her hair in a way that was far too rehearsed to be innocent. “So…remember the basilisk I told you about? The one I’ve been messaging with?”
His jaw flexed.Unfortunately, yes.
Out loud, he answered flatly, “What about him?”
She brightened, orblushed, if he was admitting the truth, which he ignored. Except he didn’t ignore it. His mind replayed all the details she’d spilled about that flirtation, and each word that had made his blood heat with something he refused to label.
“Well…” she began, rocking on her heels. “He lives here, and I met him.”
Hektor blinked once. Then twice. Internally, he felt a shift: cold, sharp, unwelcome.
Of course she did.
“And?” he asked, voice as steady as carved stone.
“And his name is Pythorus,” she said, nearly dreamy.
He repeated it, “Pythorus.” As if tasting the syllables, testing them for threat, rank, potential violence.
Then, worse, she added, “It turns out he’s actually the fixer we’re supposed to work with here.”
She was glowing now, electric with the kind of excitement that made Hektor’s spine lock. He felt it then, that early dread he should have known to expect the moment she asked him for basilisk dating advice.
He could not react. She was watching him too closely. And she had learned too much: how to read the flicker of a muscle in his jaw, the shift of his gaze, the tension in his shoulders when he was irritated.
So, he shut it all down.
Neutral. Blank.
Drakkon discipline.
“You’ve met him,” he repeated.
She nodded. “Yes. And he’s…well, he’s very charming.”
Hektor’s molars met.
