Page 67 of The Sovereign, Part One (The Sovereign Saga #1)

We disembarked in the Clovewood District, where the buildings softened into stone-composite curves and the air smelled faintly of flowering grain.

Our destination was a corner eatery tucked into a bend of the promenade, Marin’s Fold.

A district local favorite. It had a kind of relaxed charm that didn’t try to impress.

Worn microbrushed silica-tile stretched underfoot in a muted grass green, with gentle archways and an interface slate featuring a handwritten-style rendering that hadn’t changed in years.

Subtle texture, sun-diffusing awnings, and open counters with trailing greenery—trained to bloom only in certain seasons—hung from the edges in curves that resembled lazy cursive handwriting.

Everything about it felt intentionally slow, as if time itself had been invited to sit and stay awhile.

We picked up a selection of seasonal fare—pressed graincakes with savory compote, chilled herb noodles, soft-root crisps, and a tall carafe of citrus-pressed chicory.

Then bagged up the food as best we could and walked three blocks to a quiet green tucked between two sky-arched residential towers, Lirael Park.

It wasn’t vast, just enough trees for shade, just enough breeze to forget the city.

We found a patch of grass near the far fountain and sat. Maxim set the carafe in the center and poured chicory into slim reusable tumbler cresks Bellam produced from her tote.

I let my shoes slip off and leaned back on my hands, gaze lifting toward the slender leaves overhead. The day was warm but not oppressive, and the conversation meandered with the comfort of people who had nothing urgent to share.

We’d only just finished the last of the graincakes when Roan appeared.

He approached with the awkward confidence of someone who’d rehearsed his entrance and forgotten the script halfway through.

His suit was marginally less dramatic than usual—taupe, fitted, and only slightly theatrical at the collar.

He carried a small pouch of candied roots, which he offered Bellam with the solemnity of a peace treaty.

“You’re late,” Bellam said.

“Apologies, darling,” he said quickly, lying on his side beside her, propping himself with his elbow. “I had a difficult time slipping away from my driver, but thankfully, I have years of practice.”

“So, you’re really doing this?” I asked, mostly to Bellam. “I need to hear you say you understand how dangerous this is.”

“We are,” Bellam said. “And I do. It’s a risk.

So is staying here and watching Roan end up with a woman designed to be his ideal—crafted by the Veritas, rendered through Eidolon.

No, thank you. I’m not ready to stand there and smile while Hyperion’s most sought-after bachelor is handed his fantasy. ”

“She would look like you,” Roan said, staring at children playing in the distance. He looked up at her, then kissed her bare shoulder. “If the AI could grasp my ultimate desires at all, she would look, act, and love just like you.”

Maxim glanced down at me, surprise and amusement flickering behind his eyes. “Is that what I am? Your fantasy?”

Heat crept up the back of my neck, that awful mix of embarrassment and being caught curling in my chest. I lifted one shoulder in a sheepish shrug, unable to admit the obvious truth.

Bellam touched Roan’s cheek, then leaned in to kiss him. “You know what? If your accordant stepped out looking like my clone, that might actually out-weird everything else.”

I let out a startled laugh, and the others followed. Until Maxim suddenly went still, then rose from the grass in one fluid motion, his frame settling into a protective stance before anyone else had time to react.

“Maxim,” I said, reaching up to touch his pant leg. “Remember, he’s safe.”

“In theory,” Maxim responded, narrowing his eyes at a figure emerging from the far path.

Roan stood now, brushing at his sleeves with nervous energy, his entire demeanor a sharp contrast to Maxim’s composed but alert stillness.

Roan was excited, but it was tempered by respect—and a raw desperation that only surfaced when your future hung on someone else’s decision.

So much hinged on Joss’s willingness to help.

It felt almost cruel, how one person could carry that much weight over the course of another’s life.

Roan and Bellam had asked me to be there, hoping my presence might soften the edge of their request, tilt the balance just slightly in their favor. I didn’t blame them.

Joss stopped a few feet from our group and looked to me, saying nothing at first. He didn’t need to. The silence around him was taut, an armor he wore better than most. He waited, eyes steady, unreadable to anyone but me.

He didn’t know why he’d been called here, and I could find no safe way to warn him.

From the way his gaze skimmed the others—Roan, Bellam, Maxim—it was clear he didn’t appreciate being summoned into a circle of strangers.

Especially not with me at the center of it.

And certainly not while I had my hand on someone else.

I let my hand relax to my lap, while Joss’s eyes watched me move as if I were a memory he hadn’t decided whether to mourn or protect.

He hadn’t flinched, hadn’t hesitated, but I could feel the tension radiating beneath the surface.

He was confident. He always had been. But according to Lev, there was more to him than charm and conviction.

Joss was trained. Resourceful. Lethal, if pressed.

He’d never revealed that side to me—until now.

I was seeing someone I’d only heard about.

Someone who weighed every variable, every threat, and didn’t like stepping into unfamiliar territory without knowing who was friend or foe.

Joss carried the secrets of The Vale like others carried bone beneath skin, and walking blind into a meeting like this wasn’t his preferred battlefield.

Still, he came—because I’d asked.

“Thank you for coming,” I blurted out, unsure of what else to say.

“You knew I would,” Joss said.

Maxim’s jaw muscles flitted beneath the skin.

I fidgeted. “You can probably guess what this is about.”

“Enlighten me,” Joss said, taking a seat too close to me for Maxim’s comfort.

My accordant sat behind me, and I could feel him watching Joss over my shoulder, analyzing his vitals, posture, every nuance that might warn him, hopefully, a few moments before instinct turned into action. His systems were likely screaming that it wasn’t a matter of if , but when .

“Uh…” I looked to Roan. “Would you…?”

“We need safe passage into The Vale,” Roan said.

Joss’s expression didn’t change.

“For Bellam and me. Not now, but soon. We know the risks. I understand what I’m asking.

A Vanguard in The Vale without approval could result in a tribunal.

But I give you my word, whatever the Veyr requires, whatever he demands, I will find a way to provide.

All I ask is that he allow us to stay under his protection in The Vale.

It’s impossible for us to remain in Hyperion. ”

“What makes you think I can help with that?” Joss asked.

I half expected him to, even for a millisecond, shoot an accusatory or disappointed glance in my direction, but he didn’t.

He was more disciplined than I expected, even after learning the truth from Lev.

Joss’s expression revealed nothing. Not a crack. Not a clue.

“Joss,” I said gently. “You were Auren. You have to know the safest way, the dangers, or someone who could help if you can’t? Roan is Vanguard. He wants to be with Bellam, but they’ve run out of time. This isn’t something they can solve with a Petition for Departure and proper channels.”

Joss’s shoulders relaxed and he exhaled slowly, his gaze cutting to Maxim for a beat, then back to me, then Roan. “I’m sorry, but it’s impossible.”

Joss stood and turned to leave, but not before Roan reached for him.

“W-w-wait!” he begged. Once he got Joss to pause, he shot his most charming, wide smile. “Nothing’s impossible. What… what will it take? Money? Trade? Subservience? Whatever it is…”

Joss was unfazed. “You must know that if The Citadel learns The Vale is sheltering a Vanguard defector, it won’t end with a simple tribunal. It’ll be seen as provocation. Possibly even war. I’m sorry, Roan, but your… indulgence… isn’t worth that. Not to me. And definitely not to the Veyr.”

Roan’s brows pulled together. Not many people spoke to him that way. “Did you just call my betrothed an indulgence?”

“Whatever she is, it doesn’t—” Joss began.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Maxim interjected.

Joss paused, then turned to Maxim. “What?”

“Croix Ashroth,” Maxim said without hesitation.

For the first time, I saw a fracture in Joss’s carefully constructed calm, barely a flicker, just the slightest twitch at the corner of his eye.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Joss asked.

“Ashroth would be fifty-one now,” Maxim said, “but he wasn’t much younger than Roan when he arrived at The Vale.

His parents persuaded The Citadel to send six Regs with him.

Ashroth spent the first night in The Vale.

The official story is that only four Regs left with him in the morning, heading north.

The second night, all four remaining Regs went offline. Croix never came home.”

Joss was indignant. “That’s an entirely different scenario, Maxim.”

“Is it?” Maxim asked.

I turned to my accordant, warning him with my expression. We needed Joss. Provoking him wasn’t going to work, an uncharacteristically bad call on Maxim’s part.

Maxim’s eyes met mine, then they trailed away, back to Joss. “Like Roan, The Vale couldn’t risk allowing a Vanguard to hide among them, chancing war. Why would they chance it for the Ashroth boy, Joss?”

Joss made a face, glanced at me then back to Maxim. “Do you have a wire loose?”

“Joss!” I seethed.

“It was the Regs,” Maxim said, his tone ironclad, daring contradiction. “They needed them—for study, for reverse-engineering, for a shield against Hyperion. Whatever the motive, that was the trade. The Vale has six Regs in their armory. Go on… deny it.”

Joss clenched his teeth.

“Joss,” I said, touching Maxim’s arm first—a silent request for calm.

Then, I leaned toward Joss, letting my fingertips rest lightly on his knee.

It wasn’t romantic, just familiar enough to remind him of our past connection and that he could trust me.

His expression smoothed. “We’re on your side.

We know more than you think, and we’ve been protecting it.

Tell us what it will take to get Roan and Bellam to The Vale. ”

Bellam frowned, her eyes flitting from me, to Roan, to Maxim, then to Joss.

Joss tilted his head. “What happens if the Veyr says no?”

I shot him an apologetic look. “I know you have a unique relationship with him. He trusts you.”

Joss’s mouth fell slightly open, searching for a response. He’d always relied on omission before. He wouldn’t lie to my face when it mattered.

Roan hesitated. “Precisely how rare is your relationship with him?”

Joss’s gaze flicked to Bellam, returned to Roan, and then his tone fell to a hush. “If you love her, let her go through Veritas. Let her build a life here. You don’t know what’s out there, Roan. Loving her from a distance is better than watching her die a slow, brutal death.”

His words hung in the air like smoke in a sealed room. Bellam said nothing as her eyes filled with tears.

Roan shook his head. “I won’t accept that. There has to be a way. If we get there and the Veyr says no, surely there’s somewhere, anywhere else.”

“Not anywhere both of you will survive. Bellam won’t live through the first night, and there are far worse things than death for a female Sovereign outside the wall,” Joss said, his tone final.

Joss stood, and I scrambled to my feet to catch him. “Just… just consider it. Please.”

He looked down at my hand on his arm.

“That’s all we ask,” I continued. “They’re determined to be together, and to do that, they have to leave. We’ll keep your secrets regardless, but Joss? Roan has resources. Connections. He won’t come empty-handed. He’ll make it worth it to you. To the Veyr. Whatever that means, he’ll do it.”

His head tilted, already somber about his next words. “You don’t understand, Isara. Things here are about to change. You should’ve left with me when I asked.” After a moment of hesitation, he pulled away from my touch and then left the way he came.

Bellam turned to me with a forced smile, wiping tears from her eyes. “Still want to try for The Vale with your accordant after your Oathbond?”

Roan blinked. “Maxim can’t stay overnight in The Vale.”

“We were going to… never mind,” I began, still staring at Joss as he slipped beyond the green belt. “It was a mistake to think we could.”

“It was?” Maxim asked, surprised.

“It’s insane.” I turned to Bellam. “ You’re insane to even think of doing this.”

“And yet,” she said, reaching for Roan’s hand.

He took it without hesitation, kissed her knuckles, and I exhaled sharply, the frustration curling through me with nowhere to land.