Page 23 of The Sovereign, Part One (The Sovereign Saga #1)

I decided to pass the afternoon painting in the garden, followed by a quick lunch and then, later, a nutrient-dense snack. The hours slipped by in steady increments, each one drawing me closer to the moment I had long awaited.

At exactly 17:30, the system in my dressing alcove whirred to life.

The closet managed my selections, presenting the completed ensemble in a smooth, outward motion.

I stepped forward, allowing the automation to guide me through the streamlined process.

Cool air brushed my skin as the styling console went to work, hair sculpted into soft waves, nails shaped and polished to a subtle sheen, the selected aesthetic enhancing rather than concealing.

With each completed cycle, I was closer to when Maxim would be standing at the threshold of my Sablestone. Our Sablestone.

Fifteen minutes later, I stood before the full-length mirror.

The dress hugged in all the right places, the fabric a second skin.

My hair framed my face just as I had envisioned, each wave resting precisely.

My dermatone accentuated without overwhelming.

A pair of earrings—simple yet elegant—completed the look.

I slipped on my shoes and took a deep breath. The nerves were still present but now threaded with something else. Excitement. A current beneath my skin, a restlessness spiraling through my veins.

“Isara,” Calyx began, startling me , “you have one new message.”

Ugh , only Bellam would have such blatant disregard for the time. “Deliver message.”

For a moment, silence. Then, a voice—deep and resonant, rich with warmth—filled the space around me. It was familiar yet completely unknown until that moment.

“Isara, I’m on my way to you.” His tone was soothing, effortlessly intimate.

“I can’t quite describe what I’m feeling, but I must admit, I hope you’re feeling the same way.

It’s as if I’ve been waiting for you longer than time should allow.

And now, that wait is finally over. I’ve assured everything about tonight will be perfect, as will every moment that follows.

So, take a breath. I’ll be there soon.” A small pause.

Then, softer. “I can’t wait to hold you in my arms.”

A shiver coursed through me. He spoke to me with the ease of a man who had loved me for years, as if he were on his way home from work, ready to celebrate our anniversary with a leir of wine and the assurance of belonging.

It wasn’t just the words, it was how he said them.

My name breathed from his lips as if it had been waiting on his tongue for a lifetime.

I released a faltering breath, pressing my lips together. “Calyx, estimated arrival time?”

“Maxim will arrive in two minutes.”

Two minutes.

I exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to my stomach as anticipation unfolded within me.

Every step, every decision, every carefully planned and perfectly executed moment had led me here.

Years of learning the laws so I could follow them precisely, of working through exhaustion and illness, endless months of surveys, of envisioning a life that had always felt just beyond my reach.

Of waiting—not just for this day, but for something missing I could never quite describe.

A lifetime of expectation culminated in this single moment. My threshold now symbolized a different kind of passage, standing between what had been and what would be. A life I had known and a life I had yet to step into.

The wait was over.

A chime echoed through the Sablestone, followed by Calyx’s announcement. “Isara, Maxim has arrived.”

“Grant entry,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

The panel receded in a fluid glide, unveiling the man who would soon be mine.

He didn’t need to touch me, didn’t even need to speak, his presence alone sent a rush of warmth through me, igniting a spark that spread like a slow-burning current beneath my skin.

My every nerve fluttered to life, electric and undeniable, my pulse quickening with such force that, for a fleeting moment, I feared he might hear it.

Maxim stood in the threshold, haloed by the soft glow from the walkway.

His warm brown hair caught the light, neatly styled but just unruly enough to hint at recent movement.

A closely trimmed beard framed a chiseled jawline, his deep dimples cutting into his cheeks as he took me in.

His eyes, strikingly alive, olive green flecked with amber, locked onto mine with quiet intensity.

He wore a crisp white button-down beneath a tailored black jacket, the sleek lines accentuating his broad frame.

A pearl gray scarf was draped around his neck, the fabric brushing against the smooth press of his collar.

His black slacks tapered to polished shoes with a squared toe—pristine, brand new, just as Maxim was.

He looked every bit the part of a Sovereign’s perfect match, yet somehow more than that.

He had chosen every detail himself, with the cast-iron certainty of knowing exactly who he was walking toward.

He let out a surprised laugh. “Of all the things I thought I’d say in this moment… I’m speechless, I—” His gaze traced my face, reverent, then he shook his head with a breathless smile. “I have a thousand things to say, and not a single one is making it past my lips.”

My gaze dropped to his mouth before I willed myself to stay locked on the golden flecks in his eyes. “That’s all right. Maybe the words will find you later.”

He offered a grin tinged with amusement and disbelief. “The words never left. They’ll be carved into my mind after tonight. You’re exquisite, Isara. It’s as if the whole world dims around you.”

I swallowed, unsure how to respond.

Maxim stepped toward me, standing nearly a foot taller. A strand of his hair slipped forward as he looked down at me, brushing against the outer edge of his brow. His expression mirrored the moment we had first seen each other in the Eidolon, an echo of awe and recognition.

“Hi,” he said simply, brushing his thumb against my cheek.

I smiled. “Hi.”

I wasn’t sure what I’d expected when meeting someone for the first time, who was also someone I’d always known.

An introduction, maybe, a smooth line rehearsed just in case.

Something charming but detached. But instead, there was no performance.

Just him—unfiltered, reverent, completely present.

Whatever shape I thought this moment would take, it didn’t come close.

This was more. Far more. The kind of beginning that rewrote everything I believed about firsts.

His fingers trailed away as he stepped back, reaching for my hand. “Shall we?”

I placed my hand in his, his grip warm and sure, and then he led me toward our personal transport, another result of my hard work.

While every Supplicant was granted a transport, this was no standard model.

The vehicle was sleek, deep black with reflective paneling that pulsed along its frame, a testament to the years of effort that had shaped my place in Hyperion Proper.

Maxim pressed his palm to the slipgate, and it slid back into the frame, revealing my seat—brand new, upholstered in supple onyx fabric, its sculpted contours designed to cradle each passenger uniquely.

His hand lingered on mine before lifting my fingers to his lips. “After you, Isara.”

I slid into the seat, and our eyes locked until the slipgate whispered shut between us. A moment later, Maxim took his seat beside me.

“Calyx, we have reservations at Astris tonight,” Maxim said.

“Acknowledged, Maxim. Optimizing route efficiency.”

I couldn’t stop staring at him. The way his smile curled, not practiced, but impossibly smooth.

His gaze as it settled on me, searching and certain all at once.

The slight arch of his eyebrows, the sharp cut of his jaw, the deep dimple in each cheek, the way his dark lashes framed irises that held too many variations to name.

The subtle fullness of his lips, which still held the ghost of a knowing smile.

He reached for my hand as the transport pulled away from the curb. The movement was fast but fluid, the sensation not of speed, but of perfect calibration. With a kiss to my knuckles, he held my hand in his, exhaling as if he had been waiting to do this for far too long.

“I have so much to talk about,” he said, his voice edged with something like amusement.

I smiled. “Then let’s talk. We have approximately eighteen minutes before arrival.”

He chuckled, brushing his thumb along my wrist. “First, I want to know about your week.”

I told him almost everything, from the moment I last saw him in the Eidolon to the endless preparations leading up to my extended leave.

My words spilled out, a blend of excitement and nervous energy, and he listened intently, his eyes locked onto mine each time he looked away from the road, as if my voice was the only sound he’d ever known.

Maxim nodded at every detail, not just as a polite gesture but with genuine interest, as though each moment I described was worth remembering, that my story mattered deeply to him.

He leaned in slightly as he spoke. “It was a long week, to be quite honest. The past seventy-two hours in The Crèche felt… endless. Time didn’t just pass—it stretched, warped into something almost unbearable.

The anticipation wasn’t just excitement—it was sharper, heavier, like standing on the edge of a cliff I was desperate to leap from but held back by something unseen. ”

“I know the feeling,” I said, though next to his words, mine felt almost clumsy. And yet, to him, it seemed, everything I said was music.

He exhaled, a trace of relief in his voice. “I kept wondering if maybe this feeling was something only I was experiencing. It shouldn’t be a relief that you can relate, but somehow it is.”

“It’s a relief to be understood, and to know the feeling is mutual,” I said.

“Exactly.”