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Hektor shrugged. “His mother wasn’t worried. Said he’d wandered off before and always came back. There was another child no one had seen in a while, either, but she moves between several springs. No one could even agree on when she was supposed to come home.”
Ria frowned. It sounded a lot like what Liora had told them earlier. “So there are three missing children?”
“Maybe.” Hektor shook his head. “That’s the problem with the Naiads. Everyone seems to know everyone, but no one knows where anyone actually is.”
“Did you find any evidence of the hunters?” Ria asked.
“Tracks near one of the outer waterways. They were too old to follow, and the Naiads said they could’ve belonged to traders.” Hektor didn’t sound convinced.
“Could’ve been. We didn’t find enough to prove otherwise.”
“Sounds like a productive few days,” Asterion huffed.
“You should come with us next time.”
“Nay.”
“Can’t say I blame you.” Hektor laughed. “Anyway, I’d rather not spend the rest of the night thinking about that place.”
Asterion crossed the room and handed Ria a chilled glass. “Sparkling berry cider.”
“Thanks.” She accepted it with a grateful smile.
Asterion settled into the armchair beside the sofa as Hektor dropped into the open spot next to Zara. She leaned into him at once, still smiling.
Hektor caught the look on her face and glanced between her and Ria. “You’re telling the story again, aren’t you?”
Zara smiled innocently. “Maybe.”
“Good.” He chuckled. “It’s my favorite one.”
“See?” Zara said, beaming at him, “He’s proud of it.”
“I absolutely am.”
“You’ve told everyone you’ve met.”
“It’s an excellent story.”
“It is,” Zara admitted.
Ria smiled as she watched the two of them. They teased each other constantly, yet every playful jab was threaded with unmistakable affection. Hektor grinned at something Zara said, and she bumped her shoulder against his before reaching for his hand.
“So…” She glanced toward Asterion. “I take it grand romantic gestures aren’t really your thing?”
He looked at her, one brow lifting. “I guess not.”
The answer was simple enough, but there wasn’t any embarrassment behind it.
“No serenades?” she pressed.
“No.”
“No marching band?”
“Definitely not.”
“No elaborate declarations in front of hundreds of people?”
