Page 15 of The Sovereign, Part One (The Sovereign Saga #1)
I preferred the old-world word for it: honeymoon. It was less… clinical. Choosing to share a life with someone didn’t need a protocol. Just a promise.
Once we met, Maxim would be my accordant. Rather unromantic in comparison to the old-world terms, used interchangeably for both fiancé and husband. Accordant covered both—more than fiancé, more than spouse. Instead, it meant the one made for you . Unconditionally devoted. Irrevocably yours.
“A refresher was unnecessary. Minimum interaction quota of three public outings per week,” I listed, “which includes social gatherings, and recreational activities… check. Not going to be a problem. Maxim will be the first Supplicant to be sick of his Sovereign by Week One.”
“If it hasn’t happened for the female Supplicants, I think you’re safe with Maxim. Don’t forget,at least fifty percent of them must be in public.”
“Correct. I’ve already scheduled it all. The service contributions will be home organization. Psychological check-ins, emotional and conversational progression nights. Calyx has had it all in the calendar for years.”
“Wait a second,” Bellam said. “Only half of the interactions can be initiated by you.”
“I’m aware.”
“And no cancellations without rescheduling, and definitely don’t forget—”
“Bell, I know,” I grinned. “The final declaration. I’m not about to be the first Sovereign who declines my Supplicant.”
“You wouldn’t be the first.”
I glanced around and shook my head. “Not here.”
Bellam closed her eyes, once again exasperated by her own lack of filter. “So, um… oh yeah, and of course, he’s not allowed inside your Sablestone Week One and of course… the no intimacy rule.”
I cringed. “Do we have to discuss that?”
“Yes,” she said with far too much excitement. “No sexual activity for thirty days. How are you feeling about that?”
I shot her a glare. “I’m feeling like this conversation is over.”
Bellam laughed. “All right, all right. Just making sure you’re aware.”
“Oh, I’m aware.”
She grinned. “I expect to see your face on my Convox at 07:00 sharp Sunday morning.”
I exhaled, feeling excitement and anticipation all at once. It was nearly impossible to wait now that it was so close. “I can’t think about this right now. I have to get to work on this outline for my little meeting with the Primarch of Hyperion Proper.”
“Oh! Right!” she stood, walking toward the threshold before turning on her heels to offer a sheepish grin. “One more thing?”
“Sure,” I said, already focused on my auric interface.
“Did you give Lourdes my geomarker?”
I swiped at the air, immediately dismissing the glowing relays and tasks hovering between us. “Why would I tell Lourdes where you live?”
“Because an enormous bouquet of flowers was delivered to my Sablestone last night.”
“And you didn’t lead with that? You think they’re from Roan?”
She shrugged. “That’s what the card said. And… he delivered them.”
I stood, planting my palms on my desk. “Roan brought you flowers?”
“I said he delivered them. I didn’t answer.”
“I’m… I don’t think he’s done that. Ever. What did the card say?”
She shook her head, hesitant. “It’s ridiculous.”
“Obviously, it’s Roan. What did it say?” I insisted.
She wavered for a moment before finally extracting a small note from her pocket.
“On paper?” I asked, shocked.
“Handwritten,” she said, looking down at the delicate vellum in her hand, clearing her throat before reading the words.
“ Tell me, my dearest adversary, have you ever known a man to be so joyfully ruined by a single word? ” She glanced up at me before continuing, “ Your name lingers upon my lips like the last note of a symphony, haunting and irresistible. You may deny me, dismiss me, cast me aside, but I fear you have woven a spell around my heart, binding me with silken threads of longing, and I am but a willing captive in your disdain. A flower for each of my shattered reveries, and yet, I shall dream of you still. ”
“Whoa,” I said.
“Whoa,” she said, still holding the paper with both hands.
“Did it change your mind?” I asked.
“Nope,” she said, crumpling the note and throwing it at me.
Practically weightless, it didn’t go as far as she’d hoped, but I somehow caught it. “Didn’t think so,” I said as she walked out.
The vellum, now marred with tiny creases, felt like a large rose petal in my hand.
Paper was rare, an antique, but vellum—thin, delicate, and extravagant—was a luxury even the Vanguard seldom indulged in.
Roan could have bought her a field of flowers for what this small square of paper had cost him.
With care, I folded it and activated the biometric trigger embedded within my desk.
The mechanism responded smoothly, and as the drawer slid open, I placed Roan’s note inside.
If Bellam truly didn’t care for the sentiment, vellum, even a small size, could be exchanged for property in a comfortably elevated district.
Roan had always embodied the innate magnetism of the Vanguard, a man who rarely had to try at anything because everything seemed to fall into his hands without effort.
And yet, he was exerting ambition for a woman in a way I had never seen from him, nor heard about in any of his past pursuits.
Bellam would begin her Veritas year in three months, and Roan, with his name, his status, had no obligation to seek out anyone when a procession of eager admirers would have vied for even a short-lived turn at his side.
And still, he had. Was she just a challenge to him now, an intellectual game to be won?
Or was this something real, something as sincere as he made it seem?
For the first time, I truly couldn’t tell.
“Calyx, add a call to Lourdes to the schedule.”
“Call added. Would you like me to prioritize this, or schedule at the next available opening?”
“Prioritize,” I said.
I exhaled, leaning back as the drawer sealed with a near-silent click.
The city pulsed beyond the windows. Even the smallest actions held weight here—every word spoken, every choice made, every piece of vellum tucked away.
And for all our calculated steps, someone like Roan always managed to step off-script, curling the edges like flame to paper—charming, insistent, and inconveniently human.