Page 14 of The Sovereign, Part One (The Sovereign Saga #1)

He gave me one last grin, then turned toward the threshold. “I’ll leave you to prepare for your meeting with the brass.” He pointed at me. “Don’t call them that. I’m sure you’ll handle it with the same poise and grace you’ve shown throughout your Veritas year.”

As Stellan left, I sat back down at my desk, my thoughts a whirlwind. The meeting was in five hours. My role, my place, was about to become more defined in multiple ways, and with it came a new set of responsibilities.

I glanced at my calendar. My Court Date was five days away.

Five Days .

The thought sent a tremor through me. How was I supposed to concentrate on work, whip up an outline for my meeting with the brass— no, Stellan, I won’t call them that —and mentally prepare for Saturday?

I needed a dress, and… I paused. It didn’t matter what I wore, Maxim would love it.

I could roll in mud, shave my head, and Maxim would still be sure about me.

There was undeniable peace in that certainty.

I wasn’t sure how the old world operated without the built-in assurances we had now.

I was confident Maxim would want me. He’d find me desirable, make me the center of his world—and I knew with absolute certainty he’d be a permanent part of mine.

Our days would be effortless, happy, and fulfilling.

There would be no conditions, no thresholds, no secrets or lies.

It would just be us, building a life together, from the spark of new love to reliable comfort, to the steadiness of knowing we had found a rhythm only we could understand, where even the silences between us felt full.

No Sovereign had to question it, a promise written in every moment, a certainty I could hold on to with both hands, without hesitation.

I didn’t know how anyone found happiness before, but it didn’t matter, because in less than a week, I’d be living mine.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the delicate auric interface projection above my desk before instructing Calyx to place my first call of the day.

The connection established, and after two soft chimes, Avaryn’s face filled my interface.

Her long, dark waves were still a mess from the night before, and the groggy look in her eyes told me she had only just woken up.

“Finally recovered from your month-long birthday bender?” I teased, arching a brow.

“Barely.” She groaned, stretching before slumping back into her pillows. “I think I still have cake in my hair. I don’t even remember eating cake.”

“You probably didn’t,” I quipped.

“It’s not my fault my friends keep wanting to throw me parties.”

“You can say no, you know.”

“What kind of monster would I be if I turned down a birthday party?”

“After the second party, I guess that monster would look a lot like me,” I shot back.

“No, you’re just boring.”

“I wasn’t so boring at the family party. Do you remember what Mom said?”

Avaryn chuckled, wiping her eyes. “She was so fascinated.”

I tried to keep my laughter from filtering out into the hall. “I’ll never forget the look on your face when she stood up and got everyone’s attention to deliver a full breakdown of alcohol’s effects on the human body.”

“She actually said that she found it absurd that turning twenty-one is so significant.”

“She sure did,” I giggled. “When did she get so sassy?”

I listened as Avaryn did a spot-on impression of our mina.

“‘I’m simply saying it’s absurd. Alcohol is an ethanol-based beverage composed of fermented sugars and other organic compounds, yet its primary effect is a controlled form of bodily impairment.

The dizziness you feel is a mild disruption of the cerebellum, which manages motor function and coordination.

It’s an absolute mystery to me why anyone thinks it’s a milestone to legally consume something that hinders optimal function by essentially poisoning you. ’”

I covered my mouth to stifle the sound threatening to disturb my colleagues. “I had to physically steer her away before she conducted a real-time biochemical analysis just to prove her point.”

Avaryn grumbled as she rubbed her face. “Why is she like that?She’s lucky she’s the best mom ever. I only forgave her because it was hilarious in hindsight, and it’s been a hit when I tell the story at the other parties.”

“Were you still in there when she ran an entire history report on legal drinking ages across different societies and then asked why Sovereign don’t complete brain development before the milestone if it’s so important? She called it ‘inefficient biological timing.’”

Avaryn cackled. “I wasn’t, but that’s actually a good point.”

“Don’t encourage her,” I said, feeling my eyes begin to water.

We both laughed, settling into comfortable silence before I cleared my throat. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Avaryn’s mirth faded. “Uh-oh. You’re using the big sister voice.”

I smiled, trying to keep my voice bright. “Brunch?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Brunch or a lecture?”

“Both?” I offered sweetly.

She sighed, tossing an arm over her face. “Let me guess. Dad told you about the infraction?”

“And the social point deduction,” I said, my tone firm but not unkind. “You know that behavior isn’t overlooked, Avaryn. What were you thinking?”

She huffed. “It was one point. Worth it.”

“One point is a reflection of judgment,” I reminded her.

“It might seem small, but in Hyperion, perception is everything. Even minor deductions shape how others see you, and by extension, our family, and that can have lasting effects. You’re young and rebellious and independent, I get it.

But you’re also smart enough to know how much perception matters. ”

Surnames in Hyperion were more than just identifiers, they were legacies, carried unbroken through generations.

Male Supplicants took the surname of their female Sovereign, just as Maxim would take the Poeima name.

The practice stemmed from the Family Integration Protocol, a program designed to address the Birth Crisis while preserving balance in our growing but fragile new society.

Decades of research concluded that, in exchange for every Sovereign receiving at least a base-model Supplicant, each Oathbonded couple was required to adopt two children, ensuring population stability and sustained lineage without disruption.

The Sovereign Lineage Safeguard was then put in place, to prevent gender bias, making daughters just as valuable as sons.

Surnames were now forever, and a reflection of history, reputation, and the honor we upheld.

To stain that name was to stain a lineage, and that was something no one could dismiss as trivial.

Avaryn sighed, rolling onto her side. “Fine, I’ll meet you for lunch so you can yell at me. But I’m only agreeing if we can meet at Halcyon.”

“Perfect. You should get dressed. I have an important meeting early this afternoon.”

She blinked at me. “Wait. Important as in…? Does it have to do with Maxim?”

“As in Chiron Sorran and Artemis Jhendai requested a meeting after my speech last week.”

Her mouth dropped open. “And it’s a good thing?”

“It seems so.”

“You’re serious.”

“Deadly.”

“What in The Vale, Isara? That’s huge!”

“I know,” I muttered. “That’s why I need to get back and go over a few things beforehand.”

We said our goodbyes, and I disconnected the call just as Bellam strode into my office, a knowing look on her face. “I assume that call went well?”

“Well enough,” I replied. “She agreed to lunch. She’s easily manipulated with food.”

Bellam smirked. “Classic Avaryn.” She dropped into the chair across from my desk. “So. Chiron and Artemis.”

I exhaled. “Yes. I was about to start my outline.”

Bellam tilted her head. “Did Stellan give you topic points?”

“Yes, but they feel… insufficient.”

She waved a hand. “They’re not expecting technical expertise. They’re interested in what you said at the event at Convocation Hall. Your speech came from the heart. That’s what they want to hear.”

I hesitated. “I’m not sure I’m qualified to discuss anything meaningful with the two most powerful Sovereign in the company.”

“You don’t need to be qualified,” Bellam said, voice gentle but firm. “They’re not looking for numbers or reports. They’re looking for perspective. Your perspective.”

I chewed on my lip, then exhaled. “All right. I’ll try to see it that way.”

“Good. Now, let’s talk about Saturday.”

I pressed my lips together, suppressing the ridiculously giddy smile that was threatening to break free. “The Courting Commencement Date.”

“The Court Date,” Bellam responded, grinning. “So? What are you wearing?” she lilted.

“I’ve seriously considered flowskins and my Hyperion Institute Class of 2219 softshell,” I joked. “It’s not like it’ll matter to Maxim.”

Bellam gasped. “You are not wearing that! He’ll think he came at the wrong time and caught you asleep! Of course, it matters! It matters to you.”

I rolled my eyes, but she had a point.

“You need to go all out,” she insisted. “This will be an important memory.”

I sighed. “Fine. Something elegant, but not excessive.”

“Perfect.”

Bellam tapped her fingers on my desk. “Speaking of things that matter to you, your Court Date leads right into Vesture. I already know the answer, but I have to ask, have you taken a refresher on protocol?”

Most used the terms interchangeably, but each marked a different stage.

The Courting Commencement Date was the beginning, the first official meeting between Sovereign and Supplicant.

From there came Vesture, the structured, thirty-day transition period where the pair spent time together and built the foundation for cohabitation.

That led into the Oathbond, the ceremonial and legal uniting of two lives.

Then another thirty days of Accordance followed—the lived experience of that union, the embodiment of compatibility.