Rising Zero Read online

  When he sat, his robes draping gracefully to the sides, he asked her. “Have you been training for this?”

  She shrugged. “It was a higher than average possibility. My father may have thought I was useless to him, but he did make sure that I was training for this possibility. There was no one in the family who ever dodged a fight. Well, until my brother, but he isn’t so much avoiding a fight as responsibility. I think he’s only a half-sibling.”

  Dylia sighed. “There is a problem. Isn’t there?”

  “There is. You are not needed for defense. It will be awkward to have you straddling the responsibility and the normal life. So, I am going to propose a related assignment. You must serve the empire, there is no room for anything else, but there are ways that you can do it.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  He took her hand and rubbed his thumb across her palm. “I mean, that it will be in your best interest to accept a position in the imperial court.”

  “What?” His thumb was distracting. Her body was rioting under the suit, and she felt a slick warmth starting inside.

  “Are you listening?”

  She shook her head and blinked, but he wouldn’t let her hand go. “What kind of position?”

  “I was going to make a quip about the position depending on the day, but in favour of candor, my companion.”

  He smiled and kept his thumb circling.

  “What kind of companion?”

  “Intimate and at my side in all public matters. It is a full-time position, but you have access to all of the instruments and all published works in the entire empire. The knowledge and music of worlds will be at your disposal.”

  Dylia frowned. “There must be women of greater beauty out there.”

  “They have their own attractions, but my rising is not as stable as yours. Energy still emanates from me, and that has a rather nasty effect over the long term. You are immune.”

  She blinked in surprise. “Oh. Right. Of course, your highness.”

  “Just like that?” He smiled.

  “Will it get me out of this rigid suit?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do I need a bond mark?”

  “I think it would look sexy, but no. You are a free companion, not a sex-bond.”

  She frowned. “What about when you are acting as a defender? What happens then?”

  “Well, my identity as Farway is occasionally known, so why not have Zero at my side. They will figure it out eventually, or they won’t.”

  She sighed. “Is that what we are going with?”

  “It is the most striking designation and the most accurate for your rising. Waterborn was on a friend’s yacht, and it exploded, taking them under, and he gained his control of the water from there. I fought the assassins, and my power burst their skulls and organs with a sonic boom. I fell off the tower and found I could fly. Tell had his rising at a work event and can utilize any electronic equipment with a thought. Roamer was at a school function and can do short line-of-sight teleports.”

  “What do you think I can do?”

  “Well, generating weapons using biological energy is new.”

  Dylia finally had to get to the crux of her concerns. “Do you find me attractive, your highness?”

  He chuckled. “You are a very attractive woman. I am sure you have heard that before.”

  She felt her cheeks heat and knew it was very visible. “Once or twice.”

  He nodded. “But, moreover, I feel drawn to you.”

  “That was just Tell letting you know you had to fish me out of the water.”

  “No, it is a legitimate pull. The moment the alarm went off last night, I knew where you were. No doubt, no hesitation, and the way that the moons’ light pierced your nightgown had my body locked in place.”

  He lifted her hand to his lips, and she felt his tongue on her palm. Her body shivered, and her eyes watched the slide of his tongue against her skin as she felt it. She wanted to speak, but her breath rushed out of her.

  He smiled, and his eyes glowed. “You taste amazing.”

  She blinked. “So, your ancestress really was related to Dronix and Billa.” The penchant for mating by the flavour of the partner was well known.

  “Their daughter, five generations ago. Libila Kekx. She was their surprise child. They had three eggs with the ancients, but she was born in bipedal shape and raised as a standard infant. When she was an adult, they took her to the worlds that they favoured and introduced her to Darmon, the Ninth.”

  “That was when the kekxite experiments began.”

  “Yes, her parents gifted our world with as much as we wanted. It took centuries to remove most of it.” He shrugged. “A good idea used too much.”

  He stood up and pulled her against him. “I will say that while I understand tying your hair back, I do prefer it loose.”

  She stared at the heavy embroidery on his tunic and robes. “I will take that under advisement.”

  He lifted her head to his. “So, you will agree to be my intimate companion and continue training as a defender?”

  She sighed. “I serve my empire.”

  He smiled. “Good enough.”

  His kiss wasn’t a surprise, but her reaction to it was. She went up on her toes to get closer, pressing her hands to his chest, where his heart was pounding a compelling beat.

  He pressed his mouth to hers for a moment before he softly licked the seam. She gasped, and he slid his tongue in to taste hers. Their kiss got wild fast. He lifted her and set her on the small table then continued to drive her insane with the press of his hand at her back that pushed her against his groin, and the smooth slide of his tongue that made promises she didn’t quite grasp.

  When he left her, she whimpered but let him go.

  He disengaged from her, and she heard him say, “Tell, any danger?”

  “No, your highness. She is excited but not dangerous. No rising levels on her skin.”

  Dylia paused, and the hormones left her in a rush. “This was an experiment?”

  She stood up and nodded. “I see.”

  Tell’s voice came from a spot near her collar. “Your highness, her levels are rising.”

  Darmon turned toward her, and he grabbed her shoulders. “It wasn’t an experiment, but it was necessary to know if you could control yourself during arousal.”

  She brushed his hands away. “You could have told me.”

  “You would have been on your guard.”

  She saw lines of energy in front of her eyes. Her suit was containing a lot of it, but her face was still exposed. She closed her eyes for a moment and went through the pathways in her head. She left the emperor behind as she ran at full bore to the exercise yard. Once there, she formed and discarded blades, knuckle guards, spears, and nets, all made of her own energy.

  She sat heavily on the mat and hung her head.

  Tell’s voice was soft. “Well done, Zero. Levels are back to normal. Do you know what triggered it?”

  She spoke just as softly. “Humiliation. Letting my guard down for just a few minutes and thinking I could have something that I wanted.”

  Tell talked quietly to her. “As a companion, you will be degraded, embarrassed, and called a whore on a regular basis. That is just the courtiers. Strangers won’t understand.”

  She nodded. “I get that. But for five years, I have locked every emotion away, and today, just for a moment, I let them out. My mistake.”

  “So, your power rose when...”

  “When I realized that I had reacted like a starry-eyed teen. I was mad at him but furious at myself. I won’t make that mistake again.”

  She heard a slight sound and looked up to see Darmon hovering nearby. His robes had rubbed against a spear on a rack.

  She slumped while he asked Tell how she did.

  “No outbursts, and she knows what her trigger was. It seems that she is unexpectedly ready for public appearances.” Tell’s voice was rather supportive.

 
; “Send her measurements, the proper measurements, to the seamstresses and have them start on a wardrobe with proper clothing being required as soon as possible.” Darmon’s voice was suitable for his actual status.

  “Yes, your highness.”

  Darmon stood in front of her. “You, come with me.”

  She got slowly to her feet, and he wrapped an arm around her. Instead of hauling her through the building, he went up. The screens and fields of the dome opened to let them pass.

  Her arms were squashed against his chest. She didn’t have an opportunity to hold onto him as they flew over the vast expanse of the imperial palace. He didn’t say anything, and neither did she.

  Guards watched from a distance as he landed on a wide balcony. He carried her into his personal quarters and sat her on the edge of the bed.

  She looked around. “I can get out of your way.”

  “Sit.”

  She remained sitting.

  “Well, now that we are in the one part of the palace that Tell can’t hear us, what have you figured out about your trigger.” He crouched in front of her.

  “I don’t like being used. I don’t like public embarrassment, and I really don’t like people talking about me as if I wasn’t there.”

  “I see. You know that there are going to be other situations where folks will choose to attack you because of your position.”

  “Yes, but I will be able to defend myself with my tongue. It isn’t something that I can do here and now. I am restricted because of my unstable status, and that frustrates me as well.”

  He reached out and took her hands. “While I am definitely interested to see what you can do with your tongue, we are going to have dinner, and then, you will rest, unless you are exhausted right now.”

  She stared at him, his red air and gold eyes blurring as she slowly slumped and fell over. He caught her, and she felt him moving her, stretching her out, and covering her with a light sheet.

  Sleep wasn’t what she would have chosen, but it was what she ended up doing.

  Chapter Five

  Dylia sat up with a jerk, holding the sheet to her chest before the full suit she was wearing reminded her that she was covered.

  “Your recovery time is an hour and a half.” Darmon smiled toward her from his desk.

  She blinked and stretched. “What?”

  “When you overstress yourself, it takes you ninety minutes to recover.”

  “I overstressed?” She pushed the sheet aside and stood up, swaying a little.

  “When you were trying to drain yourself, you tapped into your energies too hard. You pulled on the bits of it that you need to function.”

  She walked around the huge expanse of the room, noted the bathing pool, and admired the massage bench folded against a wall. There were giant couches in alcoves, and huge sheets of nearly transparent silk softened the wind blowing in from the balcony.

  “Why does one person need this much space?” She found additional bathing and necessaries.

  Darmon remained at his desk, working on whatever he was working on. He chuckled at her exclamations, and then, he finished his task. “I have to attend a state dinner in two hours. If you wish, you are welcome to be at my side.”

  She looked at him and put her hands on her hips. “I don’t have a thing to wear.”

  “Take a bath. Have a hot soak. Your dresser will be here in an hour, and the maids will work your hair and makeup over before we go. I have to be there to accept the kings, queens, and others into the court, but you can show up when you are ready.”

  Dylia snorted. “I have never been late for a gig in my life. Now, which bath can I use?”

  He pointed to the one next to the massage table.

  “There. I still have a few things to attend to, and I want you visible if you feel weak.”

  She grimaced and activated the rectangular tub in the floor. Water poured in, and the temperature rapidly warmed. Dylia opened her suit and wiggled out of it before she unraveled her hair and stepped into the water.

  “What is the mark on your back?”

  She knew he was referring to the strange treelike marking that was just above her hips. “Strygga Syndrome. It runs in my mother’s bloodline. And it is the reason why the Stryggas so rarely breed outside their own species.” She grimaced. “Shit gets weird.”

  “So, you are truly Juno’s descendant?”

  “Yes. I don’t have her wisdom or flair for languages. My life revolves around my music.” She stepped into the tub and groaned. “I haven’t had a proper bath in five years.”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  She found the shampoo and quickly scrubbed her hair before draping it behind her on the stone floor and settling back with closed eyes for a hot soak. She would have showered before, but there wasn’t a shower available, and she had wanted to get into the water quickly. She relaxed for five minutes and then scrubbed everything that needed scrubbing.

  “You just can’t keep still, can you?” Darmon’s voice was amused.

  “I have never missed a performance. I am not going to be late for this one.” She flopped back into the sunken tub, and then, she gave it another ten minutes before she climbed out. The maids he had mentioned were filing in, and one of them looked at her with a stunned expression before walking forward with a towel. “It seems like we arrived in the nick of time.”

  Dylia was wrapped and bustled into one of the alcoves. She was lotioned, oiled, brushed; makeup was applied, and then, she was naked and gleaming, waiting for the seamstress.

  She had to ask one of the makeup artists, “So, is the gilding normal?”

  The woman smiled. “It is the most traditional makeup for a concubine. If anyone at the party has the marks on their fingers, or anywhere else, it is a death sentence.”

  “That is a little odd, don’t you think?”

  “Folk play fast and loose with intimate servants. They tend to believe that the woman will take all comers.”

  Dylia smiled. “I understand and am braced for that.”

  The seamstress came in and nodded. “Right. I need my assistants and the makeup artist on standby for touch-ups. I am going in.”

  What followed was the most intense thirty minutes of Dylia’s life. She was poked, prodded, stuffed, and sashed into a skirt made of miniscule ribbons that shifted and parted as she moved. Each ribbon was tied onto a wide sash that covered her from hip to just below her navel. Her breasts were bound in a cross weaving of sashing that was wrapped with the same ribbons. She was an arts-and-crafts project to die for. Even her arms had sleeves made of ribbons and thick sashes of silk.

  Her exposed skin was covered with gold powder, and her hair was woven with ribbons. She was a work of art.

  Darmon cleared his throat. “Dylia, are you ready?”

  She walked toward the silk panel, and the seamstress pulled it back. “I think so. I am scared to imagine what else they would do.”

  He paused, his formal wear fitting him perfectly, and the formal robe made his shoulders look even broader than what nature had imbued him with. He looked splendid. But he was staring.

  She looked down. “I know it is a little much, but apparently, you said traditional, and this is as traditional as it gets.”

  He stared at her, and his eyes pulsed red, dark gold, and red again. “How does it come off?”

  The seamstress bowed low. “It must be cut off. Traditional.”

  “Very good, Heltha. Have Kormor add a bonus to your fees. You have outdone yourself.”

  He offered his hand to Dylia. “Shall we?”

  She took his hand and smirked. “The only part of me not gilded is the palms of my hand and the soles of my feet.”

  “Well, it is traditional, and as we are about to meet with a vivid array of characters, I thought it best to have you as protected as possible.”

  She nodded. “By stripping me naked and covering me with powder?”

  A slight smirk crooked his lips. “It will certainly be
distracting.”

  “To whom?”

  “No comment.”

  She kept pace with him, used to being paraded around. The gold powder and makeup acted as a mask. Her blushing skin wouldn’t show.

  “Remain with me. Do not let yourself be separated, and I don’t mind the gold powder.” He murmured it as they turned to enter the final hall before the ballroom. “Now, head high, shoulders back. You are my companion from this moment forward.”

  She nodded and kept her fingers lightly on his wrist.

  The guards at the doors pulled them open, and Darmon walked through with her at his side. The hundred people in the room fell silent, and everybody bowed.

  “Okay, that is kind of neat.”

  Darmon whispered quietly, “Get used to it.”

  The announcement was belted out, “His Imperial Highness, Darmon, the Fourteenth, and his companion, Lady Dylia.”

  Darmon led her to a high table, and they were seated, servants brought platters of snacks in bite-sized formats, and for once, she was allowed to eat at a function.

  When Darmon had the first bite, she was cleared to nibble. She was hungry.

  The dinner was a strange arrangement. Between courses, folk could apply to speak with the emperor. Dylia stayed quiet and listened to all of the requests from the various dignitaries around the room. She ate a lot, and when the dinner had concluded, Darmon gave her authorization to have her makeup touched up before the music and conversation.

  The makeup artist nodded and left after she was done.

  Dylia returned to Darmon’s side, and the noble that he was talking to said, “I am sure that your companion does not need to hear this.”

  Without a word, Dylia put her hand on the back of Darmon’s wrist. She absorbed, observed, and participated as little as possible in the conversations.

  The occasional hand explored her back and buttocks. She smiled and whispered in Darmon’s ear when he had a moment. He chuckled. “Excellent plan.”

  The evening went by at a steady pace. She made sure that any cocktail items went into her mouth without touching her lips.