Page 49 of The Sovereign, Part One (The Sovereign Saga #1)

Maxim guided the transport back to our Sablestone, one hand on the nav ring, the other cupped over mine.

Music floated around us, filling the silence while my thoughts churned from the day with my family.

Not that the visit had at all been unpleasant.

We’d lingered through brunch and lunch, filling the hours with conversation before finally making our way home.

I smoothed my fingertips over my sleeve, absently following the seam as I tried to focus on anything but the worry that my papa had noticed the subtle ways Maxim had deviated from typical Supplicant behavior.

Beyond the window, Hyperion Proper unfolded—gleaming roads woven into the city’s architecture edged with immaculately sculpted greenery.

In the distance, the towering buildings of transpane and carbon-silicate composite stretched skyward, their surfaces reflecting the ambient lighting that pulsed with the city.

Closer to the outer boundary, the structures were more reserved, sleek but modest, designed for functionality over grandeur, with verdant terraces and vertical gardens softening the urban sprawl.

The districts were divided into self-sustaining communities, each harmoniously integrating business, housing, and recreation.

Structured not unlike the fifteen-minute cities of the old world, Hyperion-designed districts maintained a smooth, unhurried tempo of daily life.

As we entered each area, Maxim slowed the transport, mindful of the pedestrians moving along the pristine walkways.

Their attire crisp, their expressions untroubled, Sovereign strolled beside their Supplicant spouses, families wove through the quiet avenues, and Hiven glided between them, handling errands with polished efficiency.

“Notice the family with twins,” Maxim said, nodding to the corner just ahead.

The edges of my mouth turned up, watching as they dipped into the brightly colored panel of a gelato shoppe. “I saw them. My boss, Stellan, has twin girls, Bisska and Bibi. The pros and cons are fascinating.”

“Fascinating,” he repeated, amused.

I squeezed his hand. “What?”

Maxim chuckled, shaking his head. “Most Sovereign see twins and think about how cute they are. You immediately start weighing the logistics. It’s just… so you .”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said, turning my attention back to the walkway.

“You should.” He lifted my hand to his lips.

“You seem like you enjoyed yourself today,” I said, watching him kiss my hand with a grin.

“I did. I particularly enjoyed talking with Velkyn. He’s a wise man. Protective. There is strength in the way he carries himself. He reminds me of you.”

I studied the way the lights from the console reflected in his olive-green eyes, a warmth coursing through me. I wasn’t sure if it was his lips on my skin or what he’d said. “You think I’m like my papa?”

“In some ways.” His mouth quirked at the corner, the ghost of a smile. “But not in others.”

“Could you be more ambiguous with your answers, please? I nearly grasped your meaning.”

He ignored my jab. “Your mina is nurturing, thoughtful. A bit of an overthinker, but it’s rooted in love. She observes everything, weighs every possibility. It’s an admirable trait, one I’m sure all minas possess, though for a Sovereign, I imagine it would be overwhelming.”

I hummed in agreement, letting my head fall back against the seat. “I often wonder if I’ll be the same… always thinking about every possible scenario our children could experience a thousand times over.”

“You won’t have to. I’ll do it for you… albeit with less… outward deliberation.”

A smile pulled at my lips despite the fatigue settling into my bones. “That’s a nice way of putting it.”

He paused before adding, “Your sister is sweet, too. Her energy is contagious.”

“Oh, Avaryn,” I trailed off.

“She’s different from you.”

The observation held no judgment, only curiosity, and I let the statement linger before answering. “She is.”

Maxim glanced at me, waiting for me to elaborate.

“When I was young, I didn’t know my mina was a Supplicant. They didn’t tell me until after Avaryn arrived from The Cradle.”

His attention sharpened, though he kept his focus on the road. “Oh? Did they explain why?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Before that, I just knew that she was different from my papa, but I never had the words to explain why, and that created a tendency to question everything.”

He considered that. “But they told Avaryn, so she doesn’t.”

“She’s always known. She grew up with the truth as something natural, something unchallenged.” I let out a slow breath, turning my gaze to the city lights streaking past. “For her, it was just the way things were. For me, it was something to make sense of.”

His fingers tapped idly against the nav ring. “And you feel that difference affected you in a negative way?”

I hesitated before answering, aware of the way his questions guided me toward thoughts I hadn’t fully formed before.

“It made me curious, always searching for the reasons behind things. The subtle differences in Sovereign and Supplicant behavior, why systems are built a certain way. Why some things are hidden while others are freely shared.” I lifted a shoulder in a small shrug.

“Avaryn never had to ask those questions.”

Maxim absorbed my words, his expression thoughtful. “And do you think one of you was better off?”

“In Hyperion Proper, curiosity is, at best, discouraged and, at worst, dangerous. A life spent suppressing insatiable curiosity is only half-lived. I’m glad that Avaryn can accept the world as it was given to her.”

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Maxim said. “That we live in a world that stifles curiosity but worships progress. As if there’s a line between the sort of curiosity they approve of and the kind they fear.”

“Because, obviously, unauthorized exploration would be far too dangerous,” I said, the sarcasm and bitterness slipping through before I could stop it.

“We’re expected to excel, to achieve, to be models of precious progress.

But only in the ways they’ve sanctioned.

I’ve spent my life being praised for doing everything right—so long as I never questioned the rules I was so good at following. ”

Silence stretched between us, comfortable but also loaded. It was Maxim who broke it, his voice shifting to a lower, more careful tone. “Your papa didn’t seem entirely pleased when I mentioned you going to The Vale.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “You might’ve been too forward about it.”

He frowned slightly. “How so?”

“It’s not that you did anything wrong, per se.” I turned to face him. “Supplicants aren’t typically persistent. They offer support, not assertion. Not in a way that steers the conversation rather than guiding it.”

He kept his gaze on the road as we neared our Sablestone, but there was recognition behind his eyes. “I see.”

I reached out to lightly touch his arm. “It’s not your fault. It’s not even wrong, it’s just unexpected. And until our Oathbond, we have to be careful. If someone reports it, The Citadel will act swiftly and I’ll have no standing to fight it.”

He guided the transport onto the drive and then reached for the control panel.

“Oh, are you…?” I began, but the subtle light of the entry platform made me trail off.

Maxim eased the transport forward another meter, pausing as the platform smoothly descended into the sub-bay. With a hiss, it locked into place, and he guided the vehicle into its designated spot. A tap on the control panel set it in Park, powering it down.

“This is actually the first time I’ve used the sub-bay. I wasn’t even sure if it was operational.”

Maxim fought back a laugh. “They’re designed to remain idle for extended periods, considering most Sovereign don’t acquire a personal transport until they turn thirty.”

“Makes sense,” I said, nodding.

“And you’re right—about my deviations being a potential risk.”

I exhaled, turning the thought over. “We need a way for me to warn you. A phrase or a gesture to signal when you’re stepping outside expected protocols.”

He glanced at me, intrigued. “A signal?”

“Yes,” I said, lost in thought. “Something subtle.”

His finger tapped against the nav ring. “Something natural. Something that wouldn’t raise suspicion.”

“Exactly.”

He contemplated my suggestion for less than a few seconds. “What if you touched your necklace?”

“What necklace?” I breathed out a laugh. “The only ones I own aren’t exactly for everyday wear.”

Maxim smirked, reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket and withdrawing a small, elegant box. “This one, maybe?”

He passed it smoothly into my waiting hands.

Higher points came with certain privileges—an upgraded transport, access to a refined clothing line, and a Supplicant bank account with a larger allocation.

A small portion of a Sovereign’s paycheck was also allotted to a separate fund for their Supplicant, ensuring a degree of financial independence.

Once only an unenumerated right, this funding was just recently enshrined into law, part of the first Supplicant civil liberties bill I helped draft after securing a position in the Dominion Building, and one of my most meaningful victories to date.

I slid off the lid, my breath catching as the necklace inside caught the interior glow of the transport.

A delicate chain, understated yet undeniably exquisite, was crafted from Aetherium.

The rare, weightless alloy shimmered subtly even in the low, ambient light contending with the darkness of the sub-bay.

Suspended at its center was a single heritage-grade diamond pendant—my birthstone—catching the light in a way that made it seem almost alive.

A breath escaped me, his name carried with it. “Maxim!”