Page 27 of The Sovereign, Part One (The Sovereign Saga #1)

With a satisfied grin, he adjusted the umbrella, making sure not a drop of rain touched me.

His attentiveness was quickly becoming utterly disarming.

No one had ever affected me like Maxim had managed, and in just a few hours’ time.

He had been a constant thought since I was a girl, but now he was officially the main character of my favorite memory.

I wasn’t sure how much longer it would be before I’d gotten so used to his presence that moments without him would feel hollow, how quickly familiarity could shift, turning presence into expectation, and absence into moments in between happiness, a space waiting to be filled.

Once inside the transport, he didn’t pull away from the walkway, instead turning to face me. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this. But I can promise that I’ll practice… every day.”

“Practice?”

“Practice getting used to it… to being able to look at you, be close to you, touch you.”

His hands framed my face, and then his lips met mine—slow, intentional—a kiss that felt like a commitment in itself. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine. “My apologies, but I’ve been thinking about tasting you for nine and a half hours.”

My cheeks felt like they were on fire, as well as other parts of me. “You never have to apologize for that,” I said, my head still spinning from the way he’d just made the world tilt.

Maxim released my jaw from his gentle grip, just to slip his fingers between mine. In the next movement, he spun the nav ring and then turned the transport in the opposite direction.

“What are we exploring today?” I asked.

“Have you heard of Brym? I was looking at it last night, and it’s a bit out of the way, but the area is great and it seems to be highly regarded in the Garden District.”

“I have heard of it. It’s right across from Avaryn’s favorite place, Halcyon. I’ve seen it a dozen times, but I’ve never had the chance to go in and check it out.”

“Perfect,” Maxim murmured, brushing a kiss over my knuckles, pride flickering in his eyes at yet another small victory.

He side-eyed me once, a second time, and then looked over. “You’re suddenly tense. Are you sure you’re okay with that spot? I have two other options lined up.”

“No, I’ve really been looking forward to experiencing Brym, but…”

“But…?”

“It’s not really appropriate second date conversation.”

“I see.”

“I thought you didn’t link to my biorhythms until the evening before the Oathbond. Why do I get the distinct impression you always know what I’m feeling?”

He smothered a grin before nodding toward me. “Your shoulders. Might want to ease them down before you start carrying tension. Massage therapy is considered a serious violation of Vesture Protocol.”

“I can’t imagine why,” I said, staring at the droplet-covered window, determined to keep a straight face.

Maxim let out a chuckle, and before I could stop it, I began to cackle.

When we finally regained enough composure to talk without breaking into laughter again, the conversation slipped into an easy tempo, just like it had at the park, as if no time had passed at all.

The cityscape blurred past in a streak of neon reflections on wet pavement, the drone of the transport low and fixed beneath our conversation.

We talked about everything and nothing—how the rain always seemed to make Hyperion Proper feel smaller, how Maxim had noticed Brym because of its unique seasonal menu when he was searching for highly-rated venues, and how I not-so-secretly loved the way the air smelled after a storm.

With every small exchange, we uncovered layers of each other.

Though, in truth, it was mostly Maxim uncovering mine, but it made the minutes slip away unnoticed.

By the time we arrived at Brym, the rain had moved on, leaving behind a world rinsed clean, its streets illuminated by the glow of the HaloGrid tracing along the buildings and walkways.

Maxim carried the umbrella anyway, a silent acknowledgment of unpredictability.

Walking through the parking lot was an unfamiliar practice, but I was already quite enjoying it.

The serene moments on the Skith were nothing in comparison to being on Maxim’s arm.

I glanced up at him, my arm hooked under his as he held it firmly against him.

His free hand reached across to clasp mine, even though my fingers barely peeked out from beneath his bicep.

His expression radiated pride, as if he wanted the world to know I belonged there, beside him, our love both latent and inevitable.

He caught my gaze and, as if sensing the thought before I voiced it, adjusted his grip ever so slightly, leading me across the street to the entrance of Brym.

The exterior was a contradiction, a sleek facade of dark transpane and warm, rustic signage that attempted to soften its sharp, modern edges.

Brym wanted to be an intimate, family-run breakfast spot, but the flawless symmetry of its architecture and the careful curation of its casual aesthetic gave away the fact that it took itself a little too seriously.

Inside, the air carried the scent of slow-brewed chicory and caramelized grains. Pendant lights hung from the ceiling in precise intervals, casting a golden sheen over booths lined with plush seating that would’ve communicated casual had it not been a famously limited-edition vintage print.

I glanced at Maxim, amused. “This place is adorable. Almost like it wants to be a hidden gem, but it also really wants you to know it’s a hidden gem.”

He chuckled, scanning the room. “It does seem to be caught between authenticity and perfectionism. But the reviews were promising.”

I took in a deep whiff, instantly identifying roasted cacao and steamed cream. “Do you smell that?” I asked, breathing in again. “No wonder everyone loves this place.”

“So, we like it so far?” Maxim asked, his voice laced with anticipation.

I nodded. “We like it so far.”

The mingling scents curled into the crisp morning air. Maxim sat across from me, his fingertips brushing mine in a gesture so casual it seemed like breathing for him. His gaze subtly alternated between me and our surroundings, vigilant about my safety even in a quiet café.

“I have to know,” Maxim said, stirring his drink thoughtfully. “About last night. I keep replaying it in my mind.”

I smiled. “Yeah?”

“It might sound strange to call it the best night of my life, and yet it’s true.”

“I can verify that with years of experience, it was still the best night of my life.”

His gaze lifted to meet mine. “Really,” he said, surprised. “Because between the data transfers and assessments at The Crèche, I’ve had ample time to reflect.”

“I’m sorry you have to stay there,” I said. “Is there anything you can do that feels like rest, something to help pass the time?”

He breathed out a laugh. “You mean deactivate?”

“Yes. I mean, I’m not sure how it works, but it seems like an unfair sentence for you to just… exist.”

He watched me, thoroughly amused. “As opposed to… deactivating?”

“Not terminating , Maxim,” I said, covering my laugh. “Deactivating.”

For a moment, he looked adrift, as if processing something unexpected.

“What did I say? Was that rude? Stupid? It was probably stupid.”

“No,” he murmured, his gaze dropping as a nervous chuckle escaped. “It’s just… the first time I’ve heard you say my name.”

I raised a skeptical brow, turning my head slightly. “I’ve said your name before… I say it all the time.” I paused, catching the way his expression shifted. “But not to you.” A small smile tugged at my lips. “I’ll fix that. From now on, I’ll make sure to say it at least once a day.”

“That’s absurd. I would never expect that from you. Besides, I enjoy the surprise.”

Maxim traced the edge of the table with his thumb, his expression thoughtful. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about last night.”

“Oh?” I tilted my head, intrigued.

“I keep replaying that moment, the shift from anticipation to reality as the threshold slid open, revealing you, more breathtaking than even the first time I saw you. Our conversations, the way we kept testing the waters with each other.”

I smiled, remembering the thrill of the night before. “It truly was unforgettable, just like you promised it would be.”

He exhaled, then met my gaze.

“So,” I began, “speaking of dinner. What stood out to you the most?”

“The way you looked at me when I first arrived, like you were caught between excitement and doubting your own eyes, unsure if I was real or a rendering. It was indescribable to see all of those emotions scroll across your face.”

“I just… I’ve waited for you for a long time.

I suppose it was a little hard to believe.

Like you’ve said before, it’s surreal that I can hear your voice, touch you.

I’d always thought the Vesture process was somewhat unnecessary, because we do so much dating leading up to the Veritas year, but now I understand. ”

He nodded, trying to keep his face smooth. “You… dated a lot.”

I shrugged. “Everyone does. They encourage it, but it’s really a requirement. How else would we know?”

He seemed genuinely confused. “Know what?”

“Our preferences.”

He thought about that for a moment. “Meaning your results from Veritas and the Eidolon are… the sum of the men you’ve dated?”

I blinked. “Oh, ish,” I swore under my breath, reaching for his hand and squeezing it.

“Yes, but no. And also, yes. It’s about interacting and gaining a deeper understanding of yourself in the process.

If someone hurts my feelings—for example, if I recognize that I dislike raised voices, dishonesty, or manipulation—I take that knowledge, reflect upon it, and move forward.

I hope that makes sense; I know I’m not explaining it efficiently… I…” I sighed, covering my face.

“Isara?”