Page 44 of The Sovereign, Part One (The Sovereign Saga #1)

Roan was too busy hoping Bellam would acknowledge him to notice, but Lourdes and especially Leopold watched Maxim with curious eyes. Nothing went beyond purpose for a Supplicant.

“Lourdes, I hear you’re on the board for the Ashroth’s Gala,” I said quickly.

She abruptly put down her leir, scrambling to swallow her drink to talk about it.

“Now you’ve done it,” Leopold teased.

“Leo, stop. You know it’s my pride and joy. Isara, it’s going to be the grandest event of the year. It’s at the end of the month. You must come. Bellam, too.”

I closed my eyes, knowing my brilliant distraction was about to result in the very thing I’d meant to avoid. I tried to head it off. “Maxim? That will be right before our Oathbond.”

“We’d love t—” Maxim began.

“And I’ll personally see to it that Bellam graces the occasion with her presence, sister,” Roan said.

Bellam scoffed. “I’m afraid I have nothing appropriate to wear to a Vanguard Gala.”

I slightly dipped my chin a few times in agreement. “Now that you mention it, I can’t say I do, either.”

“Nonsense,” Lourdes replied. “I’ll send you both options. We’re all about the same size. If necessary, you can borrow my tailor.”

Bellam looked at me with a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. Roan, however, was nearly euphoric.

“Lovely,” Bellam said, struggling to maintain a believable tone. “Can’t wait.”

Leopold’s smile didn’t falter, but his gaze briefly danced between us, catching the strain threading through the conversation.

With an easy laugh, he slipped in, his voice lifting just enough to steer the exchange back toward smoother, more polite conversation, “Maxim, you seem to be enjoying your Vesture.”

Maxim, to his credit, didn’t hesitate. “How could I not?” he said, leaning forward, his hands in his lap. “I surprised her with a day at the Simban Street Carnival yesterday, which,” he chuckled, “I’d say she rather enjoyed.”

I pressed my lips together, trying to suppress my laughter. Maxim had, true to form, turned the day into something far more extravagant than I’d expected.

I’d heard of the Simban Street Carnival but never experienced it myself, too busy focusing on my social, credit, and health scores.

He wouldn’t tell me where we were going until we arrived, and it instantly took me back to my days as a Tier Two student.

The carnival was a whirlwind of color and sound, a sensory overload of flashing lights, lively music, and the scent of spun sugar curling through the air.

Maxim had taken an almost scientific approach to the game booths, studying the mechanics before executing each toss, shot, or ring with unnerving precision.

At one stall, he’d won me a massive stuffed bear: comically oversized, nearly as tall as I was, with velvety golden fur and an embroidered bow that matched Maxim’s trench coat as if it was part of the plan.

It had drawn more attention than either of us, forcing us to navigate the crowds with me half-hidden behind it while Maxim carried it effortlessly under one arm, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

By the time we’d left, my fingers had been dusted with sugar from the pastries he insisted I try, and my head spun all afternoon from a particularly chaotic ride Maxim had claimed was ‘mildly invigorating’.

By the end of the night, I was breathless, exhilarated, and more than a little reluctant for it to end.

“It was one of the best days of my life,” I said.

He turned to me. “Actually?”

I nodded, and he reached for me, threading his fingers through mine, a faint, touched smile smoothing his features. After a brief pause, he seemed to snap back to the present. “On Monday, we climbed Smith Rock. Isara was incredible.”

“You went outside the wall?” Roan asked, surprised.

The table seemed to brighten at the mention of it.

I could tell everyone was eager to hear more.

Rock climbing wasn’t exactly an everyday topic of conversation, and it certainly wasn’t something I expected Maxim to bring up.

But it worked. The conversation shifted, everyone engaging as they asked about the details.

The laughter came easily, as it always did when Maxim spoke, and soon, it felt like the tension had dissipated.

Roan shook his head, in awe. “I’m still surprised Isara ventured outside the gate. Do you think you’d do that?” he asked Bellam.

Lourdes didn’t give Bellam a chance to take the bait. “Roan,” she chided. “As if you don’t do it weekly.”

“As young men of the Vanguard often do, dearest,” Leopold noted.

Andress arrived with an enormous tray, distributing the first course with precision.

Before Lourdes, she placed the amuse-bouche, a wafer-thin crisp topped with a curl of citrus-cured salmon, a dollop of crème fra?che, and a single black pearl of caviar catching the light.

She moved on, placing a shallow bowl of Vellichor Consommé in front of me.

Roan’s plate followed, a cut of seared venison, and Bellam’s dish arrived last: truffle-laced mushrooms stacked in delicate layers, charred leek ribbons curled between them, with a pale cloud of parmesan foam melting at the edges.

Andress didn’t bypass Maxim and Leopold, instead topping off their leirs, as if acknowledging what didn’t need to be said. With a final, assessing glance, she folded her hands before her, awaiting Leo or Lourdes’s next signal.

Leopold acknowledged Andress’s work with a subtle, courteous incline of his head. “That will be all for now, Andress, thank you.”Top of FormBottom of Form

Andress excused herself with a slight bow before slipping away to the galley.

“Incredible as always,” Lourdes said.

Roan ignored his sister’s pleasantries and turned to me. “You said Smith Rock? That formation is near The Vale, if I’m not mistaken?”

Having just taken a bite, I used a napkin to dab at the corner of my mouth before speaking. “I could see it after we topped out.”

“What did you think?” Roan asked. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Bellam seemed both confused and suspicious of his sudden interest.

“It was far,” I said, “I could barely make it out, but it was unexpectedly thrilling proof that the distant world of our childhood stories is real. Maxim and I have decided to travel there one day.”

Lourdes adjusted in her seat, her expression flickering between surprise and skepticism. “ Why? ”

I felt a pang, a subtle twist in my chest. “I’m not sure.

I can’t quite put it into words. I suppose after years of knowing Maxim only as an abstract thought, meeting him feels like emerging from a fogged dream into clarity, and now, having seen The Vale from afar, I suppose I just want to keep trading the abstract for the tangible. ”

“I felt the same after meeting Leopold, but I can’t say I share your sudden appetite for adventure. It’s dangerous out there, Isara.”

“I’ll be safe. Maxim will be with me.”

Lourdes didn’t seem convinced. She glanced at me, her eyes narrowing just a fraction. “I don’t understand,” she said, almost too quietly. “The Vale-born come here to live, not the other way around.”

I breathed out a laugh. “I never said I wanted to live there. I wouldn’t. They don’t allow Supplicants after sunset. I just want to see it with my own eyes. Up close.”

Roan lifted his chin, his dimple deepening. “It’s difficult to explain to someone completely devoid of adventurous spirit, Isara.”

“I’m unashamed to admit it,” Lourdes asserted. “Proud even.”

“Tell me more about The Vale,” he asked, a glint of interest in his eyes. “What sets it apart? How does it differ from here? Could you reach it in a day? And what does it truly take to survive there?”

Lourdes was showing signs of fatigue with her brother. “Roan, why are you interrogating Isara? You’ve been to The Vale multiple times.”

“I don’t know much about it,” I admitted.

“But you were with Joss for years, you—”

“Roan!” Bellam hissed.

Roan snapped his gaze to Bellam, his eyes widening at her reprimand before his expression fell, realization settling in. A trace of recognition crossed his face, and he shot an apologetic glance toward Maxim and then to me. “My apologies.”

“Roan, what’s gotten into you? Why are you asking questions you know the answers to?” Lourdes asked.

“I have never remained there for more than a handful of days, dear sister, nor can I say with certainty how long it would take Isara to reach its gates,” he said, his words pointed. “I’m curious to know her perspective.”

She scoffed. “Honestly, Roan, how do you expect Isara to know?”

Lourdes seemed to be the only person at the table who still didn’t know the answer, but Roan wasn’t about to risk Bellam’s ire again.

Leopold cleared his throat, straightening in his seat.

“The Vale is a wondrous and untamed place… endlessly intriguing.” His gaze fell to Maxim.

“I understand that on your Court Date, you took Isara to Astris. Do they still serve the Truffle Mélange there?” He turned to Lourdes, a touch of warmth in his expression.

“You ordered that after we returned from our Accordance. Do you remember, darling?”

“I do, and it was exquisite. We should make a reservation soon.”

Leopold seemed to lose focus for just a couple of seconds before responding with a small smile. “Done.”

Lourdes touched her husband’s cheek. “Thank you, love.”

Maxim rested his hand on my thigh, his fingers pressing into my skin with a gentle certainty. “Isara ordered the seared halyx, though the reviews spoke highly of the Truffle Mélange as well.” He turned to me, his gaze warm. “Maybe next time.”

Before I could answer, Lourdes turned to me, mischief flickering in her eyes. “Did it feel strange, eating when he didn’t?”

I leaned in. “It did ! Did you feel that way, too?”

She nodded quickly, her lips pressed together in a thin line, suppressing a smile. For a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of the girl I used to know.

“Supplicants never eat,” Roan said, arching one brow. “Why would that be odd?”

Bellam took a slow sip of her drink. “Probably because you’re used to dating Sovereign during your Bacchanal Years. Seeing couples where only one person has a plate is normal, but when it’s you , it might feel off.”

Roan stared at his leir, turning the thought over. “That makes sense. Can’t say I’m looking forward to it.”

Everyone laughed—except Bellam—and only until we realized he wasn’t joking.

“Roan, don’t be ridiculous,” Lourdes said.

He glanced to Leopold, then to Maxim. “I meant no offense, it’s just that”—his gaze met Bellam’s—“I prefer sitting across from the woman I adore, enjoying a meal together, watching her relish every bite, discussing the different tastes.”

“So many have been adored,” Bellam muttered.

“Just one,” Roan said, nearly bereft.

“No offense taken,” Maxim said, his eyes pouring over me with deep affection. “I share the same sentiment.”

“Is it tonight that you’re released for domestic preview?” Leopold asked.

“Yes,” I replied, a spark of excitement rising in me. “We’re heading home right after dinner.”

“I remember ours,” Lourdes said, her voice dipping into nostalgia. “It felt strange after he left. Empty.”

“I’m sure it does,” I murmured, shooting a quick glance to Maxim before reaching for my drink.

A male Hiven arrived moments later, efficiently clearing away the remnants of the first course. The clink of silver against porcelain barely interrupted the lull in conversation, though Lourdes soon filled the space.

Before another conversation could take root, Andress returned with a large tray crowded with intricately plated dishes, balanced effortlessly in her hands.

In front of Lourdes, she set a porcelain dish of pan-seared salmon with white truffle puree, resting atop a bed of saffron-infused lentils, the delicate fillet glistening beneath a drizzle of citrus beurre blanc.

My plate followed, then Roan’s heartier dish, a slow-braised verath flank, and finally, Bellam received charred fennel and wild mushroom risotto, its surface adorned with a lacing of smoked pecorino and micro herbs.

With a final glance, Andress stepped back, waited a moment for any further instruction, then bowed, leaving once again.

“I want a firm confirmation for you for the gala,” Lourdes reminded us, setting down her leir. “It’s in the Empyrean Crest, of course, and more importantly, at our estate, which should be reason enough to attend.” Her gaze targeted me. “Say you’re going.”

“We’ll discuss it,” I said smoothly, glancing at Maxim.

“I admit, I’m intrigued,” he said, leaning back slightly. “We should make an appearance, Isara.”

A beat of silence followed. Not long enough for most to notice, but heavy enough to shift the air.

Roan, Bellam, and Lourdes exchanged quick glances, the moment so brief it could have been overlooked if I hadn’t felt it settle in my chest. Supplicants didn’t typically assert preferences.

They followed, adapted, anticipated. But Maxim had expressed something more—a direct desire.

For a brief moment, my mind raced, the ease of my expression at odds with the sharp flicker of concern beneath it. Had they truly noticed, or had I imagined it? Had Maxim? I pushed the thought away.

Roan’s voice, light and self-assured, broke through my momentary unease.

“Bellam, my sister’s assessment is unimpeachable.

The gala is fast approaching, and I find myself in need of suitable accompaniment.

The remaining selections are rather limited.

Surely you don’t want me arriving with Nyara Bourguet or”—his nose wrinkled—“Pythia Dunwell.”

Bellam offered only a flat expression, refusing to take the bait. “Either seem like perfectly acceptable choices.”

Roan extended his hand across the table, his voice threaded with sincerity. “You know it’s you I wish to take.”

“Bellam, do take pity on him,” Lourdes chimed in. “You’re the only one who might endure his company for an entire evening. Besides, we’ve become fast friends. I want you there.”

Roan turned to his sister, his expression caught between surprise and profound gratitude.

Bellam exhaled sharply, her lips pressing together in a way that meant she was weighing whether or not it was worth arguing. Roan and Lourdes both stared at her expectantly. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, she lifted her leir and took a slow sip before setting it back down.

“I’ll go,” she said finally. “But I’m taking the Skith.”

Roan grinned. “I concede to your terms. I’ll collect you from Ridge port. The Skith doesn’t extend all the way into the Empyrean Crest.”

Bellam thought about that for a moment, and she attempted a polite expression of gratitude. “Thank you, Roan. That’s very… kind of you.”