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Tov looked around, allowing his distaste to show. “How can you stand this office? The decor is… distracting.”
“I have been too busy putting out fires to worry about the decorating,” Zevon dismissed.
“It has been what, nine months? Are the governors still resisting every change you make?”
“I expected that,” Zevon insisted with a slightly curled lip. “But it’s not just the governors. Each day brings more disgruntled department heads and frustrated mystics. This place has been mismanaged for decades.”
“And you are no longer allowed to exert your authority with your fists,” Tov pointed out, hoping to lighten his friend’s mood.
“That’s the worst part,” Zevon agreed, finally relaxing. He stood and came around to the front of the desk. “Were you just checking in to make sure I hadn’t put my fist through a wall?”
“I was hoping you’d had time to consider the message I sent you earlier.”
Zevon shrugged. “I skimmed through it, but I’m not sure I see the benefit of joining forces with the Torretian rebels.”
“That’s why Laidon wants to meet with you. He has information that he insists will benefit us greatly. I don’t see a reason not to listen to what he has to say. He also has a friend in serious danger and he needs our help to—”
A rhythmic beeping interrupted Tov and a disembodied voice said, “Sorry to interrupt, sir, but this is important.” Apparently, Zevon’s assistant had returned.
“Go on.”
“Cylex Bekar is headed up here. Provost Nadis did not say what he wanted, only that it seemed urgent.”
“It better be urgent if he left Cara and Raina unprotected,” Tov growled out, more than annoyed by the trainee’s choice.
“Should I tell him you are with someone?” the assistant prompted.
“No,” Zevon decided. “When he arrives, send him in.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Should I come back?” Tov asked, anxiously glancing toward the door. “There are important elements to our conversation that I have yet to explain.”
“Stay.” A faint smile tugged at one corner of Zevon’s mouth. “I am pretty sure I know what he wants, and you will want to hear it.”
Tov had no idea what that meant, but he knew better than to argue with the president.
Cylex arrived a short time later. His purposeful steps faltered when he spotted Tov but he focused on Zevon and greeted, “Thank you for seeing me, sir.”
Zevon leaned against the front of his desk, his expression grim. “You have chosen to leave your post without permission. This better be important.”
“May I speak frankly, sir?”
“Of course.” He crossed his arms over his chest and watched Cylex intently.
Tov shifted his gaze back and forth between the two. Zevon might know what this was about, but Tov had no idea.
“Jevara sent me here to spy on you, sir. I am very sorry that it took this long to admit.” Cylex rushed through the confession as if the words burned his throat.
Tov looked at Zevon, bracing for his reaction. Zevon chuckled, the response shocking Tov and Cylex. Why would Zevon find this amusing? Tov sure as hell did not.
“You just cost me a hundred credits,” Zevon said.
Clearly confused by the statement, Cylex asked, “How so? If I may ask.”
“Draven bet me a hundred credits that you would confess to being a spy. I was certain we would need to confront you before you admitted the truth.”
“You knew he was a spy, yet you allowed him to guard my mate and her cousin?” This was unbelievable. And he’d said Draven knew about this also. Tov would be having words with Flora’s mates as soon as he finished here.
