The Last Days of Krypton - Kevin J. Anderson [36]
Outwardly, he waited with calm patience, but inside he felt great anticipation. He wondered if Aethyr-Ka would arrive early to show her eagerness to meet him…or late, to toy with his emotions…or if she would show up at all. He had no guarantees, and that was what made it so intriguing. He sensed a kindred spirit in this brash, independent woman.
After she had caught his attention at the chariot races, Zod had immediately sent a few spies to make quiet inquiries about her while he dealt with the bothersome fallout of Bur-Al’s death. He easily learned that most of Vor-On’s dismissive comments and assessments reflected the general opinion. Aethyr enjoyed breaking the rules, and she relished provoking strong reactions, much to her family’s dismay. She didn’t live her life in the same tedious, washed-out manner that most Kryptonians did.
Deciding that he wanted to meet her as soon as possible, Zod had recorded a message crystal. With his most sincere and meaningful smile (he had been practicing that), he requested that she join him for a fine private dinner. At first, to impress her, he had listed his formal credentials; then, not wanting to sound pompous, he deleted them all. Aethyr would scoff at such pretension.
But Zod’s assistants had a difficult time actually tracking her down. Aethyr had no stable address. Her family did not know (and claimed no interest in) her whereabouts. One of his spies finally found her poring over crumbling maps in an archives center and museum.
When they delivered the Commissioner’s message to her, Aethyr had held the rose-colored crystal in the palm of her hand, warming it with her personal heat. The image of Zod’s face wafted upward and congealed so that he seemed to be speaking directly to her. She listened to his invitation, then flustered Zod’s men by declining to give an answer. Any answer at all. She simply went back to her maps, digging out records of ancient historical sites….
Now, as he waited on the balcony on the evening after his meeting with Jor-El, Zod was sure Aethyr must at least be curious. He had planned carefully for the assignation, choosing exactly the right bottle of wine from the Sedra region of the coastal highlands. His servants set out a selection of chilled seafood caught by nomadic fishermen, fresh fruits drenched in nectar, and a braised fillet of gurn held in a thermal field to keep it warm. Everything was perfectly calculated and staged.
Aethyr arrived four minutes early—another surprise. Not early enough to imply anticipation, not stiffly punctilious, and not arrogantly late. When he opened the door, he was caught by her large dark eyes, like a robber bird trapped in the fine mesh covering an orchard. As before, Aethyr wore none of the ridiculously formal costumes other nobles loved to flaunt; instead, her clothes absolutely suited her, showing off her lean figure. She wore no jewelry, and her short, dark hair was unadorned.
“Welcome, Aethyr. Thank you for coming.” He gestured her inside, but she remained at the threshold of his penthouse.
“I came so that I could decline your invitation in person, Commissioner.”
She obviously expected him to reel, to protest, to react with indignation. Instead he smiled and answered in a neutral voice, “And why is that?”
“Because I don’t play political games, and this seems like one. Too many unanswered questions.”
“Such as?”
Aethyr arched her eyebrows. “What could the great Commissioner Zod possibly want from me? You gain no political clout with my family through making my acquaintance.”
“Maybe I have no interest in your family. Maybe I find you beautiful. Maybe I think you’re intriguing.”
“Maybe I think you’re used to getting what you want. I’m not a bauble in the marketplace to be had because you toss a few coins in my direction.”
He gestured inside again, slightly more insistent. “Why don’t you