Just coffee, overcooked eggs, and the dry air of Solkaris clogging his lungs.
He’d told them all last night that he needed rest. They hadn’t protested, though Zara had pouted, but they’d let him go. Andhe had, in fact, slept. Somehow. Though his dreams had been fractured and restless, sandstorms and basilisk eyes and Zara laughing over something he couldn’t see.
He took another sip of dark Solkarian coffee and scanned the café.
Basilisks everywhere.
Coiled lower halves hidden beneath tailored fabrics, scaled cheeks catching the pale gold of morning sun, forked tongues flicking between words. Elegant, controlled, lethal beings sipping tea and reading news tablets like civilized diplomats instead of the venomous warriors they also were.
And somewhere among them: Pythorus.
He shut that thought down so fast he almost felt the slam inside his skull.
No use wondering which basilisk she had batted her lashes at. No reason to imagine the handshake, the smile, the flirtation she’d probably perfected just to needle him.
Zara was a co-worker. At best, an accidental friend. Anannoyingaccidental friend.
He repeated that like a mantra, stabbing at his eggs.
He was not here to monitor her dating life. Not here to glare at any male with scales. Not here to intimidate a basilisk fixer because his tiny pink-cheeked colleague thought his tail was “interesting.”
He was here to work. Officially. Professionally.
Entirely unbothered.
He set his fork down with precision and rolled his shoulders, grounding himself the way he’d been trained: spine straight, mind empty, blood cooled.
Focus.
A shadow fell across the table.
“Good morning!” Zara chirped, sliding into the seat beside him with entirely too much enthusiasm for someone in a land made of heat and stone.
He closed his eyes briefly.Of course.
Liora and Elian sat opposite them, both barely hiding grins that were way too knowing for this early in the day.
And behind them, scaled, golden eyes bright, smile confident…stood a basilisk.
Hektor didn’t need an introduction to know.
Pythorus.
Zara beamed. “Hektor, this is?—”
“I know,” Hektor said, voice like granite.
Pythorus extended a hand, respectful but amused. “An honor, Drakkon of the High Ridge.”
Hektor took it, grip just shy of bone-grinding. “Likewise.”
Zara winced.
Elian muttered, “Oh gods.”
Liora sipped her tea like it was going to be a show.
Pythorus only smiled wider.
