Page 26 of The Sovereign, Part One (The Sovereign Saga #1)

A soft melody drifted into my consciousness, each note wrapping around me like a whispered invitation to wake.

As my eyes fluttered open, Calyx adjusted the room’s temperature by a fraction, just enough to ease the contrast between my sheets and the cool morning air.

The blinds retracted in slow increments, revealing a sky that gently wept, streaking the transpane with delicate rivulets.

The rich scent of Vinterra blend reached me before the machine had even completed its cycle.

It was my single daily moment of excess, one I’d chosen to start my mornings with long before I realized how deeply rituals rooted themselves in my life.

I stretched, allowing myself to indulge in a slow, Sunday morning moment as Calyx’s voice smoothed over the final touches of my transition to consciousness.

“Later.”

“Acknowledged.”

There was a slight pause before Calyx continued, the hesitation barely perceptible but intentional. “You have seven messages from Bellam Erel.”

I sighed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Of course, she was impatient. She’d warned me that she expected a full report of last night’s date, and she would demand every detail. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and reached for my robe, wrapping it around me as I padded toward the stairs.

As I descended the stairs, the smooth composite flooring was warm beneath my feet, a contrast to the large, misted transpane that lined the main level.

I made my way to the sitting area near the galley, where my Vinterra blend waited on the credenza, and I took it with me to the window, observing the city across the sound, its skyline blurred by the silken veil of rain.

“Call Bellam.”

The moment the connection was established, Bellam’s famous scowl appeared on the floating interface, her caramel curls pushed back with a thick headband, a few spirals escaping at her temples, the wisps curling around her damp forehead.

She looked flushed, her skin still carrying the glow of exertion.

She had been in her kinetic suite already—of course, she had. Even on a Sunday.

“You are unbelievable,” she declared, her voice brimming with urgency, though her background suggested she hadn’t yet moved past the lazy sprawl of post-exercise recovery, a protein smoothie half-forgotten on the table behind her.

I smirked, taking a sip of my drink. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Don’t you good morning me. Seven messages, Isara. Seven. And not one response? I should have called in a welfare check.”

I lowered myself onto the cushioned bench, watching as droplets clung to the transpane before merging into tiny, delicate streams. “I have breakfast with Maxim. I don’t have long to chat.”

“You do?” she said, nearly squealing before she remembered she was angry with me.

“You’d better make the few minutes we have count, then,” she said, breathless with anticipation.

“Was it everything? Was he everything? Did he tell you you’re stunning?

Please tell me there was chemistry. If not, don’t tell me, just let me believe there was. ”

I laughed, shaking my head. “There was chemistry.”

She made a triumphant noise. “Go on.”

I obliged her, in excruciating detail, about the way his presence transformed the atmosphere the moment he arrived, how he pulled my chair out for me as if he’d done it a thousand times before, how he asked questions that weren’t part of a script but rather born of genuine curiosity.

I described the flickers of humor, the shared glances that felt heavier than they should have, the way the moment folded in on itself when his hand brushed mine. And, of course, the kiss.

Bellam shrieked. “He kissed you?”

“He absolutely did, and could barely wait, if you want the truth.”

“I want every last detail! Every heart-stopping, thrilling, toe-curling, blush-inducing moment! What did it feel like? Kissing a Supplicant? Was it familiar? More intense? Something entirely new?”

I practically melted into my seat, clutching my drink as if it could calm the rush of excitement in my veins.

“Bell, it wasn’t familiar… it was life-altering.

It’s as if you could combine everything you’ve ever liked about everyone you’ve ever dated into one person.

He’s the best at making me laugh, at conversation, at kissing, and affection, and on top of all that, he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen and Bell, when he kissed me…

” I pressed my free hand to my chest and sighed.

“It was everything. I felt butterflies, fireworks, tingling in my toes, and this man is going to be my accordant! I can kiss him every day, as much as I want!”

She exhaled as if she’d been holding her breath, her entire expression lighting up with infectious excitement.

Her giddy smile widened, and she clapped her hands together.

“I told you! Didn’t I tell you? That you shouldn’t do anything absolutely insane until you meet your actual soulmate? Was I right or was I right?”

“You were right,” I said, leaning back, my brain spinning with dopamine, a swirling mix of elation, disbelief, and pure joy.

Bellam was suddenly quiet.

I sat up. “What? What is that look?”

“Have you thought about Joss? You’re not still considering The Vale, right?”

I blinked. The name landed like a stone in still water, disrupting my thoughts. I hadn’t. Not once. Not even in the moments between words with Maxim, when old feelings might have surfaced.

“I—I haven’t, no. Not since I saw Maxim for the first time.”

“Isara.” Bellam’s voice was knowing, gentle. “That means something, doesn’t it?”

I exhaled slowly. “Maybe.”

She didn’t press, though I could feel her curiosity, her concern.

What I didn’t tell her was that Joss’s absence in my thoughts had been unintentional.

That I hadn’t even considered how my evening with Maxim might affect what was between Joss and me—or what was left of it.

Now that my feelings for Maxim were becoming more concrete, I didn’t want thoughts of whatever Chiron and Artemis were planning against The Vale to prevent me from being fully present with Maxim.

How could I decide about my future if my thoughts were divided?

That was another thing I’d left unsaid. I hadn’t mentioned my lingering unease from my meeting with Chiron and Artemis.

The questions they’d asked, the pointed interest they had in my perception of Hyperion and its place in the world.

Their scrutiny. Their carefully veiled concern.

My half-truths and omissions with my best friend were adding up, and I didn’t like the way it made me feel.

“I love you, but I have to go,” I said at last. “I’ll call you later.”

“Fine, but only because I know that if you completely fall for Maxim, it means you’re staying here, where you belong.”

The call ended, and Bellam’s image blinked out of the interface, leaving options for a breakfast date attire in its place.

Calyx began the Hydrabay sequence, adjusting the pressure and temperature while different, sophisticated yet relaxed ensembles rotated gracefully, shifting in a three-dimensional carousel pattern, each ensemble displayed in crisp detail.

Hair, dermatone, attire—selections curated to the nuances of Hyperion’s trends, the understated elegance expected of someone in my position.

I chose quickly: a soft-knit, heather-gray turtleneck, fitted but comfortable, paired with tailored slate-gray wide-leg trousers that added depth to the monochromatic ensemble, the hems cuffed and falling just above the ankle.

The sweater was weighted enough that I didn’t need a coat—it carried the structure and warmth without sacrificing shape.

I completed the look with a pair of matching heeled lythera booties, sleek and modern, adding just the right amount of elegance.

My hair, straight and sleek, falling just above my shoulders, earthy dermatone, subtle but polished, and a muted wine lip gloss to tie it together.

I stepped into the styling console, my head gently secured into place, and within ten minutes, my hair, skin, and dermatone were perfected, a transformation that required no effort on my part beyond the selections I had made.

Just as I slipped into my boots, Calyx’s voice returned.

“Isara, Maxim has arrived.”

I stilled. “What time is it?”

“The time is 8:21.”

He had teased about being early, but as a Supplicant beholden to protocol, I didn’t think for a moment he was serious.

“Grant entry!” I said, rushing downstairs.

The panel swept open, and there he stood, framed against the rain, an umbrella in one hand, the other resting casually in the pocket of a black wool overcoat. Beneath it, he wore a fitted black sweater, dark-wash denim, and sleek boots.

His smile was warm, patient despite the drizzle that clung to his sleeves. “I said I would try.”

I leaned against the threshold, tilting my head with an amused smile. “And here I was thinking I’d have to wait the full nine minutes before I could see you. I’m not sure I can take more good news this week.”

“I sense sarcasm,” he said, grabbing my middle and pulling me against him.

I let out a squeal I was not at all proud of, but that didn’t stop Maxim from kissing my temple and then my cheek. I glanced at the rain trailing down his coat. “Would you like to come in?”

He set me on my feet. “Unfortunately, that’s a privilege I’ll have to wait until Friday to enjoy.”

“Oh, that part of protocol you adhere to.”

He winked at me, then reached for my hand. “Ready?”

I intertwined my fingers with his, letting my grip tighten just slightly. “Trying looks good on you,” I teased, falling into step beside him.