by Viola Grace
“Of course.” He frowned, and it was nice to see his face. He turned his head and listened to a voice in his helmet. “I need to get you back to the lab. They have a suit for you.”
She paused and looked back at the garden. “Can I come back here?”
“Of course.” He pulled his helmet on.
He offered her his hand, and she took it, setting the glass down on the bar as she passed. It was rather like being escorted into a performance.
The bodysuit was in a room without any other equipment. It was suspended on a hanger.
She stepped into the room and looked at Farway. “Am I able to have some privacy?”
He shook his head. “I am afraid not. The suits are not easy to get into.”
Dylia sighed and took the suit down from the hanger. It was definitely heavy. She opened the front seal of the suit and stepped into it, tugging it up each leg in turn. She got it up to her hips when she realized that her gown was going to have to come off. She turned her back and whipped it off, working her hands into the sleeves and pulling them up and into position. She pulled the sides forward, and then, she started sealing the suit from the bottom up.
Her breasts were flattened more than she was comfortable with when she managed to get it closed.
She turned to Farway, and he asked, “How does it feel?”
She winced. “Tight.”
“What?”
She lifted her arms up, bent her elbows, and flexed backward. The suit pulled open across the bust. “Tight.” She opened the collar and resealed the front of the suit.
He paused for a moment, and then, he cleared his throat. “Apologies. Tell took your measurements while you were in your wrecked garments.”
“Ah. I wear a binder when I play. They get in the way otherwise.”
“Of course. A new suit will be crafted for you for tomorrow. Is that acceptable?”
“As long as you don’t need me to move my arms. Sure.”
He chuckled. “Right. Well, we are going to get those markings off your hands and clear your bond. This is rather peculiar. We hadn’t had any risings that hadn’t killed someone when they activated. You are the first zero that I have ever heard of.”
She paused. “You injured someone?”
“It was an assassination attempt. Three assassins met their end, and I blew out this wing of the palace. I was already serving the empire, so it didn’t change my life, but it did mean that I am on duty every three days. Lucky me, I was on duty today.”
They began to walk toward another lab. “Lucky?”
“Sure. If Waterborn had been out, he wouldn’t have been able to get there in time to rescue you. He doesn’t fly.”
She chuckled. “I would have gone to the surface.”
“You were a kilometer from the shore. You were exhausted and in shock. Drowning was the most likely scenario.”
“You don’t think much of my ability to rescue myself.”
“I have seen stronger candidates die more senseless deaths.”
Dylia grimaced. “Wonderful.”
“Here we are.” He smiled and brought her inside the lab. She recognized the machine that put the bond tattoos on, and she sat while he programmed it to remove the notes on her fingers.
She slid her fingers into the grip marks that tightened around her digits. She shivered as the mechanism swung into place, and she held her breath when the machine got to work, destroying the pigments and freeing her from the bond.
It took ten minutes to go over all of her markings, and a cooling gel was placed over her red fingers. She sat back and sighed, flexing her fingers now that they were free. For something as light as a tattoo, they had weighed on her more than gold.
“The bond release has been filed and authorized. You are clear of your service as a musician.”
Dylia smiled. “Lovely. Now, when can I get instruments?”
He paused. “You just got free of them.”
“I love music; I just don’t like doing it on-demand.”
He sighed and shook his head, the face on the helmet blank. “Right. I will have some arranged for you. Any preferences?”
“No. I will play anything. I learned on the cheapest instruments and do not mind using them as long as I can keep playing.”
“Right. I will have something sent to you from the imperial collection.”
She blushed. “Ah. Right. I forgot for a moment. Apologies. I didn’t mean to demand anything. I just haven’t played for my own enjoyment in a while.”
“Don’t worry. We are about to demand a lot of you. Giving you your music is a little enough thing.”
She nodded. “Thank you. May I also get some food?”
Farway nodded. “Of course. Come with me. I will show you the duty quarters.”
The walk to the duty quarters was done in silence until she broke it. “So, what do I do on my days off?”
“Once you contain the rising and can control it under duress? You can do what you like with your time. You will get a stipend for your on-duty hours and will otherwise be free to wander as you will.”
“Do I have to hide my identity?”
“Of course not. I only wear the helmet to stop the bowing when I rescue someone. You can remain Dylia, or you can take on a new persona.”
She smiled. “Right. Well, first thing I need to do is comb my hair. It is crunchy. Next thing is to eat something. I am starving. Third thing... I think I might take a nap.”
“Very wise. Your hair looks cute. Like you are startled.”
She wanted to smack him, but it was an offense punishable by having her hand removed. She settled for a snort.
Chapter Three
She woke up in the dark of the night. She was awake, alert, and in the mood to play something. She crept out of her small room and down the hall where an amazing lute had been delivered. She picked it up carefully and left the duty quarters, pattering down the halls in her nightgown and bare feet.
Dylia found the gardens without any trouble, and she settled near a tree before tuning the instrument and beginning to play. She sighed happily as she played the ballad of Juno. The story of a child who entered bonded imperial service and managed to rise to the position of advisor when she was free of her bond. Her life of wisdom and her rise to power before taking an alien prince as husband was legendary in Dylia’s family. She was their descendant, after all.
She played another song and then another. Finally, she set the lute aside and prepared to get to her feet. She turned toward the door, and there was the emperor, wearing loose, flowing silken trousers and nothing else. She had seen him in less, but she still blushed. He was the result of a lot of physical training and an ideal representative of the imperial house.
“I am sorry. I came out here so that I wouldn’t wake anyone.”
He ran a hand through his hair that was no longer braided for the helmet. “There is an alert that sounded when you left. I had a good idea of where you would be.” He paused and smiled. “You are very talented.”
“Thank you. I will go back to bed.” She got up and walked toward him. He remained blocking the doorway.
“You are an Ormiak.”
She nodded. “I am.”
“Your family is one of the wealthiest in the western hemisphere. How did you come to be in bond?”
She dragged in a deep breath. “Oh, my father said that he would not pay off my brother’s debts, but that it was acceptable for me to be used for that purpose. I am not really unhappy to not be with my family.” She smiled tightly.
“That is a lot of negatives.” He smiled.
“It is all I have been thinking about for the last six months.” She smiled. “I had employers lined up. I had a life planned. Two hours ago, I would have been naturally and legally freed.”
“I am sorry for your rising, but you did save lives. Even the attacker has survived, so you are not beginning service to the state with a negative balance.”
She cocked her head and looked u
p at him. “Can I get part-time jobs on my days off once I am in a safe position?”
Darmon, the Fourteenth, cocked his head and touched her chin. “We will see, Dylia. It will all depend on how quickly you get it under control.”
She nodded and tried to ignore how her heart was thumping at the slightest touch. Being celibate in a very sexual society was rough on the nerves. Sure, Darmon was out of her social strata, but he was contact, and contact felt wonderful.
He slowly removed his fingers from her skin. “You got hot.”
She blushed brightly, afraid that he could read her body’s reactions. “I did?” She squeaked.
He nodded. “You did. It was definite.”
She shrugged. “Must be because I am having my first day of rising.”
Darmon cocked his head. “I don’t think that was it.”
She tried to ease past him, but it was a lot of muscle and skin to get by. She had to slide the lute to her side to enable her to pass, but that left her body barely covered in the gauzy nightdress.
Parts of her grazed him as she tried to ease out of the room, and her skin felt like she had just eased around a fire. She clutched the lute and pattered back to her quarters. His slow and steady steps were behind her.
Tomorrow she was getting a suit that made moving easier, and she would be able to work on keeping in her energies then. Until she could sleep again, she was going to shop and try to pick out a few outfits to wear when she wasn’t trying to hold herself in. If she could learn control over the power in her, she would reward herself with a comfortable outfit. She would have to find the money somehow.
The next morning, Waterborn was in the lounge watching news vids. Dylia was squeezed back into her suit, and she introduced herself before going to get a meal out of the dispenser. It was similar to when she was working for Lady Meddial. She ate in the kitchens and only came out when summoned. Not much of a stretch to change her location.
“So, you are the new rising. How many did you kill?” he asked from the couch.
“Zero.”
She took her tray to the table and settled in to eat.
Waterborn was looking at her with blue eyes that were almost uncomfortable to look at. His black hair was soft and wavy. He looked charming. She had heard he was a bit of a jackass. He was highborn as well. Most of those exposed to kekxite as children were. It was a way to dramatically change their health vector from nearly fatal to brilliant and robust fitness. In Dylia’s case, she had been infected by a pathogen that was slowly destroying her motor control. Her father had sneaked her into the lab and activated the defunct equipment. Her body was embedded with kekxite, and it had guaranteed her good health until the day she died. She was just so saturated that a trace amount could activate the rising, which it did.
Waterborn got up and walked over to sit at the table with her. “Zero? Even Farway had three.”
She shrugged. “Zero. I knew what was happening and got away before the bursts started.”
He frowned. “How did you know?”
She finished her breakfast and put the tray and dishes in the cleaner. “I knew because I know my medical history. My parents made it mandatory for me to know why I didn’t die when I was two.”
Waterborn was looking at her ass when she turned around. “You certainly seem healthy now.”
She ignored that comment and sat on the floor, braiding her hair into a thick rope that she twisted into a bun. A scowling man came in, and he nodded. “Dylia, please come with me.”
She nodded and got to her feet. “Tell?”
They began walking out of the duty quarters. When they were in the hall, he answered her question.
He blinked and nodded. “Yes. How did you know?”
“I could hear you through Farway’s helmet.”
He frowned. “How did you do that? No one can hear through the helmet.”
“He wasn’t wearing it at the time. Your voice was clear. I recognize voices.”
“Interesting and it might be useful. The replacement suit will be ready by lunch. Today we are just going to check your retention of power under stress.”
“So, monitored torture.”
He shrugged. “We all went through it.”
She nodded. “Right. Of course.”
So, she was strapped to a table with her arms out to her sides, which put her closure in danger. It was quite the motivating factor to keep herself calm as the baselines were taken, and the sound, pain, and temperature variations were brought in. She held herself in and kept herself calm. This wasn’t actual danger, and she knew it. Her father had experimented on her often enough as a child. She knew the difference.
Two hours after he had strapped her down, Tell was releasing her. “That was disappointing. I thought you would crack.”
She sat up as he unlatched her ankles. “I am used to being uncomfortable, and when you are playing, noble children like to jam pins into your back and legs. This isn’t much.”
Tell paused and finished uncuffing her ankle. “Of course. Right. You have lived on a bond contract for what, five years?”
“Yes.”
“Right. Well, your second suit is here. If you change into it, we can work on some of the physical tests.”
She nodded, and in a few minutes, as she closed the front of the suit, she sighed in relief. She could breathe deeply and move her arms without bursting out of the front of the suit.
Tell picked up the first red suit, and he said, “This one will be altered for you.”
“Thank you. So, what next?”
“You eat and then Waterborn will give you combat training to see if you will crack your control.”
She nodded. “Sure. So, I go back to the duty quarters?”
“Do you know the way?”
“Yes. I am fairly competent at navigating strange buildings.”
He smiled. “Waterborn will take you to the training area after you eat.”
“Great. Looking forward to it.”
She nodded to Tell, and then, she left the medical side of the base and headed back for the living quarters. Waterborn stared at her, and she noted that the line of his gaze connected with her chest. She grimaced and went to get her lunch. This wasn’t going to be fun.
Her meal was quick, and when she finished, she looked over to Waterborn. “I believe there is a training exercise planned for today?”
He nodded. “I have been ordered to put you under stress.”
“I get that.”
“How did you do in the stress test?”
Dylia answered, “As well as could be expected.”
He nodded sympathetically. “Well, this will be different. I am going to attempt to overwhelm you physically and trigger every psychological hot button that you have. You can’t slip control. Not even for an instant.”
She nodded. “I get it.”
He smiled and opened a door at the back of the living area, and he led her into a huge, encapsulated space covered with electromagnetic shielding and a lot of very dangerous equipment.
“Now, normally, you won’t be armed while arriving at a site, unless there is a known threat. So, for this exercise, we are going with my being armed and you dealing with it.”
A tendril of water shot out, grabbed a staff, and pulled it back into his hand. They walked to the center of the space, and Dylia saw the motion out of the corner of her eye, dropping to the ground before lashing out with her leg to cause him to stagger. She rolled to her feet and faced him.
He smirked. “You are good. Surprisingly limber. I would like to test out all of your reflexes one day.”
She faced him, and when he struck at her with the staff, she stiffened her arm with the energy inside her. The staff shattered.
“Tell, what are her readings?”
She didn’t speak but remained poised for defense.
The voice came from all around them. “Slight spike but under control.”
Waterborn reached behind him and grabbed two blades
. “Let’s step this up a notch.”
Tell muttered, “Waterborn, that is not the protocol.”
She frowned and watched the center of his torso and hips for clues as to what was going to happen next. One blade swept down and the other stabbed, she twisted sideways but ended up with her back to his chest.
He clamped his arms around her and pressed a hand over her mouth. The other hand squeezed her breast. Water started coursing into her. “You think you are so hot just because you have big tits and a nice ass.”
Her body fought the influx of water, and the energy in her cells took action. Waterborn screamed as she fell to the ground, steam belting out of her mouth and coming off all available skin.
She held her hand out, and a weapon of golden light formed. She took two steps toward him and slit the front of his suit, down to his groin. Her voice was hoarse. “Say that again.”
Waterborn looked at her, and he screamed, “Status!”
“She is still under control. There are no radiation flares that are not under her control.”
Emperor Darmon shouted, “Apologize, jackass!”
Waterborn looked at her, and he blinked. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have said that, done that.”
“Zero, you are to stand down.” The emperor was wearing his formal robes, and it was easier to take him seriously while he was dressed that way.
She let the blade return to her body, and she stepped back. She watched Waterborn stagger to his feet and check his body for damage after her blade had threatened true damage.
“Well, Waterborn, it seems she didn’t cut you. No damage except that which was done to your suit.”
He nodded and bowed. “Yes, your highness.”
“You are very lucky. She isn’t the average rising. Dylia, walk with me; I have a proposal.”
She exhaled another gout of steam. “Yes, your highness.”
He smiled and offered her his arm. She placed her hand on his wrist, and she walked with him. Waterborn sat back on the ground and clutched his head.
Nobody touched her breasts without consent.
Chapter Four
Dylia walked with him, and they entered into the gardens. There was a charming table set amongst the flowers. He led her to it and held a chair for her.