Page 34 of The Sovereign, Part One (The Sovereign Saga #1)

Maxim wasn’t wrong. from nearly the conception of Hyperion Proper, Sovereign men had different rules than women.

The structure of the courting process wasn’t just about fostering emotional bonds, it was about managing impulse control.

Long-standing data had shown that when left unchecked, male Sovereign were far more likely to rush the physical aspects of a courtship, often at the expense of the emotional foundation Hyperion prized.

By keeping a structured timeline, the system ensured that each phase progressed with deliberation and restraint.

The data was undeniable: major intimacy infractions had declined by over sixty percent once the stricter guidelines were put in place.

And at its most extreme, the regulations weren’t just about preventing impatience but curbing the kind of impulsivity that, in rare cases, led to actual crimes.

Of course, it wasn’t framed that way publicly. The official stance was that the structured schedule enhanced compatibility, giving couples time to form deeper connections before introducing physicality. But everyone understood the real reason, whether they spoke about it or not.

“It might be a double standard, but it’s one backed by data. We might as well take advantage of it. Today might earn us an infraction, but even The Citadel would have a hard time admitting a walk in the park or an afternoon at a carnival is prohibited.”

“An outing,” Maxim trailed off, turning the idea over in his mind. Something told me he wouldn’t need much persuading.

There was a difference between a table date and an outing, though most Sovereign didn’t give it much thought.

Dinner was intimate, a quiet exchange over candlelight or across a sunlit café table—an opportunity to linger, to read between the lines of conversation, to enjoy the slow unraveling of familiarity.

An outing, though, was something else entirely.

It was movement, laughter, the unpredictability of the world folding into the experience.

Crowds, music, the rush of a game, the energy of a park alive with chatter.

There was no script, no perfect setting to fall into.

Just the rawness of being together in a space bigger than the two of you.

The way a Supplicant handled that—the unexpected, the unscripted—said more than any polished dinner conversation ever could.

“You like rock climbing.”

I pointed at him. “I do. And it’s been a millennium.”

“Then it’s settled. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to Smith Rock. I’ll submit an excursion clearance.”

My face fell. “If we’re allowed.”

The Citadel had pulled couples apart for brief stretches of time to restore parameters before. I’d never given it much thought, but as strange as it was, the notion of being away from Maxim for even a day left me with a deep, unsettled feeling.

Maxim reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “Today will get me through being without you tomorrow, but if I’m being honest, I can think of no worse punishment.”

“I’m glad it’s not just me. And, how strange… we’ve only spent the last two days together.”

“It’s not strange for me at all. Being with you or without you is all I know.”

I considered that. At The Crèche, he waited to be with me.

The depth of our connection, forged in just two days, was both humbling and a bit overwhelming.

I thought about how easily I had slipped into the comfort of his presence, how natural it felt to be near him.

And now, the idea of being apart, even for just a day, felt like a hole opening up, where something I hadn’t fully realized I needed was about to be ripped away.

How have I become so dependent on him already?

The thought unnerved me. I had always prided myself on my independence, on my ability to stand on my own.

And yet, this wasn’t need—not in the way that word was so often said with caution.

Need implied emptiness, something lacking that another person had to fill. This was different.

Maxim hadn’t taken anything from me, he had only added to what was already there.

Being without him didn’t make me feel smaller, weaker, or incapable, but with him, life felt whole, as if something once unnoticed had fallen into place.

The way sunlight transforms the sky without replacing it, or a breeze breathing life into the air unseen.

This wasn’t dependency. It was connection, one I had been waiting for my entire life.

After lunch, we spent a few minutes straightening up the galley before settling back into our chair, curling up under the blanket with a cresk of chicory once again as if my inconvenient human needs had never interrupted us.

“It’s going to be difficult to leave,” he said softly against my hair.

I closed my eyes. “Let’s just pretend you’re not.”

“One of these days, I’ll leave for the last time. I try to focus on that.”

I squeezed him to me.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Maxim adjusted to better gauge my expression. There was a slight tension in his gaze. It had been like this since the moment we met; he wanted to understand me, to know me, all of me, but he’d also been careful to let me take the lead.

“Joss… at the café today,” Maxim began. There was no judgment in his tone, no suspicion. It was more a curiosity, and maybe something else, too, as if he sensed that there was more to the story than I had shared with him so far.

I let out a slow breath. “Yes, Joss,” I began.

“He’s Vale-born. What made him decide to make a life here?”

“He didn’t really discuss it,” I said, picking at the blanket.

“It was one of the points of contention between us. He never really opened up to me, but there was so much that seemed to be boiling just under the surface. All I really know about his family is that his parents are still alive. He has a younger brother and sister.”

“They have three children?” Maxim said, surprised.

I nodded, raising my eyebrows. “I know. Even with The Cradle cultivating embryos with superior genetic traits, reaching adulthood here is still more of a miracle than a given. He said most families in The Vale only have one child, if any. Joss’s family is the exception, not the rule.”

“I’m surprised The Citadel hasn’t ordered him to undergo biometric screening or somehow arranged for his parents to come in to identify any relevant indicators that might help them replicate the result.

Of course, they’d have to either convince them or offer something they couldn’t refuse.

Hyperion has no real authority in The Vale. ”

“That’s exactly why you’re the only person I’ve told.”

“Understandable.”

“He did mention a man there, their Rohven … a sort of high-ranking guardian, I suppose. He keeps order, hunts, and defends. His name is Kaivar. He was like a second papa to Joss, and now, to his younger brother, Branth. Joss was supposed to take Rohven Kaivar’s place one day, but now Branth has become his successor.

From the tiny pieces Joss offered, I tried to understand their way of life, but it’s so different from what I know. ”

“So, until Joss was eighteen, he’d been trained as a combatant?”

“He didn’t frame it that way.”

“I’m sure he didn’t. The Citadel can’t be aware. They wouldn’t have allowed Joss inside the gate had they known. No wonder he’s been so guarded. And knowing you’re both in Hyperion Proper, with firm plans to be Oathbonded to someone else… it was a risk for him to tell you anything at all.”

“I suppose you’re right,” I murmured. The words felt too small.

For two years, I’d believed Joss’s silence was indifference.

A choice, not a necessity. But if The Citadel had known, if they had even suspected, he wouldn’t have just been banished.

At best, Joss would have been treated as a threat and captured.

The risk he took in telling me anything at all was greater than I had ever considered.

And yet, for the first time, I saw it for what it was—not cruelty, not rejection, but survival.

“I’m not surprised… that he decided to trust you.” Maxim’s expression relaxed. “How did you meet him?” he asked, his voice almost tentative, as if he was treading carefully on ground he didn’t yet understand.

Thinking back to how it all began with Joss felt strangely distant, and putting it into words for Maxim felt even more unnatural. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but the memory of those days still had a way of catching me off guard.

“It was three years ago. Lourdes’s cousin’s birthday, a party high up in the hills of Empyrean Crest,” I said, shrugging slightly.

“A display of extravagance only the Vanguard could achieve. Joss seemed to want to avoid attention, but there was something about him. Something that stood out from the Sovereign you’d usually find at those types of Vanguard Soirées.

He was nothing like the spoiled and the insufferable, the entitled and the self-absorbed.

He was trying to hide it, but he was in awe of the house, the sculptures, the food.

It was like he was using his eyes for the first time. ”

Maxim nodded as if he understood, but a question was already forming behind his eyes. “What drew you to him?”

I hesitated. That part of my past was complicated, layered in ways I hadn’t even fully unpacked myself.

But Maxim had a way of listening without pressure or expectation.

Still, a twinge of nervousness crept in.

How absurd. It wasn’t as if he’d leave me after hearing the answer.

In theory, he couldn’t. But Maxim wasn’t like the others, he wasn’t immune to apprehension… or hurt.

He’d just learned that I’d seen Joss only days before our Courting Commencement Date. And though he’d said nothing, I knew it lingered. In the old world, that kind of omission could drive someone to walk away. And that’s exactly why I owed Maxim the truth… because he never would.