Page 21 of The Sovereign, Part One (The Sovereign Saga #1)

The hypocrisy of it all began to consume me.

Joss had walked away from The Vale, willingly submitting to Hyperion Proper’s order and structure, leaving behind the life he once knew.

He had no right to ask me to return to The Vale with him.

And yet, his voice haunted me, the way he said my name like it still belonged to him.

Simultaneously, Hyperion, which prided itself on peace and abundance, masked its own duplicity—concealing terrorist attacks, suppressing whispers of war and Blight—just as Joss had condemned one world while embracing another, both sides were pretending to be something they were not.

The foundations of Hyperion were built on certainty, yet cracks were forming, and I could no longer ignore them.

Frustrated, I swiped my hand to dismiss the interfaceand then perched my elbows on the desk, pressing my fingers into my temples.

The Dominion Building wasn’t a place for feelings like mine. It wasn’t a place for doubt. And it certainly wasn’t a place where I could speak freely. I needed to compartmentalize. I needed to bury this.

“Isara?”

I looked up to see Bellam standing in the threshold, one perfectly arched brow raised in curiosity. I had spent years reading her expressions, but this one was new: deep concern.

“After work beverages?” she asked.

I stared at her, startled by how easily she had read me. Stress was obsolete in Hyperion. We had systems. We had support. And yet, here I was, visibly unraveling.

I swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes.” I hadn’t even considered refusing.

Bellam studied me for a moment longer before she nodded. “Meet me in the lobby in ten,” she said, exiting through the panel, then disappearing behind the opaque walls of my office.

*****

We took the Skith to Horizon, an intimate lounge on the western edge of the city, known for its dim ambiance and gentle murmur of conversation. It was a place for hushed deals and confessions, where Hyperion’s professionals and upper-tier workforce could unwind without an audience.

Bellam ordered for us both, something strong, smooth, designed to unspool tension without dissolving control. She sipped hers, watching me carefully over the rim of her stemmed leir.

“You’re going to tell me what’s wrong,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

I sighed, swirling the deep-hued spirit with my finger. “I ran into Joss. Actually, he ran into me.”

Bellam’s eyes widened before she recovered, setting her cocktail down with a clink. “Since the last time I saw you?”

I nodded. “At brunch, with Avaryn.”

Her expression darkened. “On that side of the city? Why?”

“He’s been spending a lot of time there, apparently.”

“He’s been trying to find you in a public setting to deflect suspicion, considering your history and that you’re both in Veritas.”

“Yes.”

Bellam pinched at her fingers. “You spoke with him?”

“We saw him outside the window. Avaryn invited him in and then excused herself. He sat down.”

“For Chiron’s sake, Avaryn, it’s not a game,” she said under her breath. Her focus returned to me. “What did he want?”

I hesitated.

“Isara,” Bellam prompted.

“I think… he’s still in love with me.”

She tilted her head. “You’re just arriving at that conclusion now?”

“And he wants me to go with him to The Vale.”

Bellam scoffed. “That’s ridiculous.” When she realized I wasn’t mirroring her reaction, she was suddenly worried. “Wait a minute… you’re not actually considering it, are you?”

I looked down at my drink. “I saw it, Bellam. From the upper echelon of The Citadel. The Vale… it’s not what we thought it was.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It was beautiful.” The word felt dangerous on my tongue. “Alive. A flourishing sanctuary, a paradise carved from the wilderness, vibrant and breathtaking in a way I never imagined.”

Bellam remained unimpressed. “Isara. Don’t romanticize it.

Life in The Vale is grueling. They don’t have the technology we do.

No Skith, no automated systems to grind their grain, purify their water, or regulate their homes’ temperatures, only the drones that tend their fields, and even those are few.

They farm their own food, and when the weather is unkind, they suffer for it.

Medicine is limited, comforts are sparse.

It’s a struggle, every single day. You belong here . ”

“I know.”

She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Did you forget the way Maxim looked at you?”

I swallowed hard. “I’ll hold on to that moment for as long as I live.”

“Then wait. See how you feel when he’s here. Don’t let Joss confuse you before you even get the chance to meet him. Promise me, Isara.”

I nodded, gripping my leir. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Bellam relaxed, relief softening her features. “Good.”

Before I could say more, a deep, familiar voice cut through the muted resonance of the bar.

“Ah, destiny weaves a fine thread, does it not? Two souls, drawn together by forces unseen.”

Bellam groaned as Roan strode toward us, his signature smirk firmly in place, the dimple in his cheek deepening the closer he came to the object of his desire.

“Or perhaps you’re simply incapable of taking a hint,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “Shouldn’t a Vanguard be somewhere more fitting, rather than mingling with the commoners? Why would you possibly be this far outside of Empyrean Crest?”

Roan feigned innocence. “Fate?”

Bellam shot him a flat look. “Are you following me?”

He grinned. “Not exactly. But let’s not get lost in the details.”

Bellam stared at him, her expression hardening.

“Roan, I’m not interested, and not that you’ve asked or even care, but I’m going to tell you why.

My Veritas begins in three months, and you’re a Vanguard.

I’m not naive, I know exactly what you’re doing.

Because I didn’t fall to my knees in gratitude the moment Roan Vasthane graced me with his attention, it’s a game to you.

A puzzle to solve, a conquest to win. And men like you…

oh, you live for the chase, don’t you? Let me be painfully clear so that even your Legacy Stipend-soaked brain can grasp this: no matter how exhilarating, how utterly life-altering you could ever promise those three months would be, I would sooner carve out my own heart than let you be a part of it. ”

His expression sobered instantly, the usual bravado melting away.

He had tried everything, his charm, his wit, the grand theatrics that had never failed him before, but none of it mattered to Bellam.

While most would be flattered by his relentless attempts to impress her, she found men like Roan to be predictable and tiresome. Something that clearly terrified him.

Bellam hadn’t grown up with Roan the way I had, so she couldn’t see it—the way his entire demeanor altered, the sheer desperation in his eyes.

He had thrown every trick in his arsenal at her, every flourish and charm he’d ever used to get his way.

And usually, it worked. But not with Bellam.

For once, it wasn’t about the chase. He wasn’t playing to win; he was scrambling not to lose her, and it was killing him that she couldn’t see it.

“Bellam,” he said, clearing his throat before he spoke next. “Please. Tell me what I have to do to get you to go to dinner with me. Just one dinner.”

Bellam tilted her head. “Just one?”

Hope flashed across his face. “Yes! One dinner, and I’ll never bother you again if that’s what you want. Is that a yes? Please… please say yes.”

He was more serious than I’d ever seen him, and I waited with him for Bellam’s answer.

“Still no,” she said, unaffected. She stood, grabbed her tresset, and left him standing there.

Roan watched her go before turning to me, looking almost lost. “Isara, I swear to you, I’m the one desperate for her attention, not the other way around.

I’ve pulled every string, played every card, and none of it has mattered.

I would give up every advantage, every privilege, just for a chance.

You know her best. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.

Whatever it takes. Please… what can I do? ”

I drained the last of my drink and met his gaze. “Pray.”

I left him, too, stepping out into the cool air where Bellam was waiting.

She studied me for a long moment before pulling me into a quick, rare hug. “Go home,” she murmured. “Take a bath. Pick out a dress for Saturday. And dream about Maxim.”

I nodded, but the moment I turned away, my thoughts drifted not to Maxim, but to Joss and the beautiful, forbidden world beyond Hyperion’s gates.

A part of me couldn’t shake the fear that by the time I had the chance to see it for myself, The Vale would already be gone, erased the moment Chiron and his Regs deemed it an anomaly.

And yet, it wasn’t just The Vale that lingered in my mind.

It was everything. The unrelenting quiet of my home.

The way my heart stuttered whenever I passed the Stasis Bay.

The undercurrent of dread that came when I thought of standing in front of Maxim for the first time, knowing he’d been made for me, and for that very reason, not knowing if I would feel anything for him at all.

What if real life was different from the moment we looked at each other after the Eidolon?

What if the connection I imagined, the certainty I’d preached about during my speech, had only been projection?

I’d spent my life trusting systems, trusting process.

But no survey or rendering could prepare me for the moment he looked at me from just a few inches away and I had to decide— Is this him?

Is this truly what I’ve been waiting for?

Thinking back on Lourdes’s description of Leopold gave me hope.

But if that wasn’t my experience? The world would expect me to smile, to step forward, to accept what had been crafted for me with open arms. But deep inside, a quieter voice asked the question I didn’t dare speak aloud: What if perfection wasn’t enough?