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Noratu, the friendlier of Flora’s mates, had been showing Kern around the Citadel when the summons hit Kern’s comm queue. So Noratu escorted Kern to the president’s office rather than taking him back to the apartment assigned to Kern’s triad.
“The top section of the Citadel spirals all the way up to a large observation deck,” Noratu explained as they started up the railed walkway. With reddish gold hair that drooped over his forehead, Noratu was very different from his triad’s darkly brooding controller.
The thought made Kern smile inwardly. The same could be said of Cylex and him, only he was the darkly brooding one. “Is everyone allowed to use the observation deck or is it reserved for the president?”
“Anytime you can’t find Zevon in his office, chances are he’ll be up there. But the space is available to anyone.”
They continued to climb along the curving walkway. “What else is up here?”
“The technology hub and several meeting rooms,” Noratu told him.
They reached a double-doored entrance that led to a reception area. This was not what Kern had expected at all. Everyone called Zevon by his first name and said he was more soldier than politician. This was clearly the office of a self-absorbed statesman.
Noratu nodded to the young male sitting behind a desk along the far wall. “This is Kern Yarro. The president is expecting him.”
“I’ll let Zevon know his visitor has arrived.”
Kern glanced around again, unable to hide his disapproval.
“Don’t judge him yet. This is not an accurate representation of our new president.”
Kern acknowledged the statement with a nod. “Thank you for the tour.”
“Our mates are close so I suspect we’ll be seeing more of each other,” Noratu said as he headed for the doorway.
“I suspect you’re right.”
There was a row of chairs adjacent to the young male’s desk, but Kern hoped he wouldn’t be out here long enough to need one.
Had Raina been summoned also? What about Cylex?
As if to answer his question, Cylex’s familiar laugh sounded from inside the office. The door was pulled open and Cylex motioned Kern inside.
The inner office was even more ghastly than the reception area. Garish colors and gilt, everything looked as if it had been dipped in liquid gold. He didn’t want to imagine the person who had intentionally selected this decor.
A deep rumbling laugh drew his attention to the large transparent desk, edged in gold, of course. The male sitting behind it looked completely out of place in the office. “I hate it even more than you do.”
This had to be Zevon. Many Altorians were larger than other species in this corner of space, but this male was massive. His shoulders would span most doorways. His long legs were encased in boots and propped on the desktop. Dark brown hair contrasted sharply with his pale skin, but what surprised Kern most were his piercing gold eyes. Not amber or light brown, Zevon’s eyes gleamed like polished gold. There was only one planet in this star system that produced that particular shade: Houkdi. Did the others know that their president was a hybrid? Did Zevon know?
I know, but most do not, Zevon slipped the thought into Kern’s mind with effortless skill.Please respect my privacy.
Kern narrowed his gaze as he reinforced his mental shields.Let’s see him sneak past that, Kern thought with a secret smile.
“I have never encountered anyone strong enough to keep me out,” Zevon warned. “But I will respect your privacy if you respect mine.”
“I did not invade your privacy.” Annoyed by Zevon’s arrogance, Kern’s tone was sharper than he’d intended. “You were the one listening to my thoughts.”
Zevon lowered his feet to the floor and studied Kern carefully. “You’re right, though the invasion was not intentional. As I said, I have yet to encounter anyone, telepath or not, who can keep their thoughts from seeping into my mind.”
“It will be fun to put your claim to the test when I am not in the grip of bonding fever,” Kern shot back.
Much to Kern’s consternation, Zevon chuckled. “If Udora hadn’t told me that you are her grandson, there would be no mistaking you now. You sound just like her.” Zevon scooted closer to the desk and held out his arm. “I presume you know who I am, but it feels rude to ignore the introductions. I am President Zevon Raydo, but everyone calls me Zevon. I have always felt that titles do more harm than good.”
Kern knew enough about Altorians to understand what was expected of him. He reached out and clasped Zevon’s forearms as the president grasped his. “Kernciteg Yarro, but everyone calls me Kern.”
“Well, now that we’ve exchanged the expected greetings and finished with the pissing contest, why don’t you have a seat.”
Pissing contest? Kern had never heard the adage before but didn’t care enough to ask for a definition.
