Page 68 of The Sovereign, Part One (The Sovereign Saga #1)

The walls of our Sablestone caught the late afternoon light and held it, as if reluctant to let go of something so fleeting.

The interior shifted in tandem, panels deepening in tone with the sun’s slow descent, casting the room in muted silver and opalescent warmth.

The air responded to us with fluid instinct, adjusting its flow to match our proximity, our breath, our silence.

I’d lived here long enough to take its perfection for granted.

But not tonight.

Tonight, the peace felt artificial. Too still.

It was a portrait of safety, painted over the gnawing truth that somewhere, Roan and Bellam were making plans that could cost them their lives.

Those plans were born of urgency and hope and yet laced with risks so severe that sitting in such engineered calm felt grotesque.

Soon, they would step into the brutal, lawless stretch of terrain between Hyperion’s walls and The Vale—a place built to swallow the unprepared whole.

Maxim was relaxed and seated, stretched across the edge of the embedded platform sofa, one ankle balanced over his knee, coat and jacket already put away, sleeves rolled to his elbows.

I sat beside him, not touching but close, my body angled toward the cascade wall across from us, where translucent patterns glided through some abstract rendering of time. I wasn’t really watching it.

“Joss didn’t say no,” Maxim said.

I turned to look at him. “He didn’t say yes. His answer alluded to the opposite of yes.”

“He didn’t outright kill the idea. That’s something.”

I folded my arms, not to challenge him, but to hold the spiraling in place. “You didn’t hear his voice the way I did. That wasn’t hesitation. That was a warning. He’s afraid, and that’s not like him.”

Maxim leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, eyes scanning the floor like it might offer answers.

“Maybe it’s not fear. He’s protective,” he said, voice even.

“That much is clear. But I keep thinking about what he said, about how you should’ve left with him.

That things are about to change.” He shook his head slightly.

“I don’t know what he meant by that. I’ve run every model I can build from what I know, and still—nothing definitive. ”

He looked up at me, quickly adjusting when he saw the look on my face.

“He could be afraid. You know him better than anyone else here. Is it possible it only looks like fear from our perspective, and it’s actually something worse—certainty?”

“Anything is possible, I suppose.”

“Maybe he knows the Veyr won’t accept them and doesn’t want to say why.

Or maybe,” Maxim added, with a flicker of self-aware irony.

“Roan came off the wrong way during one of his visits and the Veyr already decided that he isn’t right for The Vale and has said as much to Joss.

” He gave a faint, reassuring smile. “I’m speculating.

Reaching. I know that. But that’s what I do.

I calculate risk, run probabilities, look for shape in the noise.

And right now, none of it looks good. But that doesn’t mean we stop trying.

It just means we prepare for worse and hope for better. ”

“You still thinking about those specific words have nothing to do with the thought of me leaving with him to The Vale?” I asked, dubious.

He stifled a grin. “Another maybe.” His gaze met mine. “But Roan isn’t going to give up. We have to find a solution for them, and fast.”

“Between the wall and The Vale, there’s only the Strenn Corridor.

No transit lines, no marked zones, nothing sanctioned.

Just raw land and everything feral waiting within it.

And then there’s Roan, convinced they’ll survive it because he’s taken a few Hiven-escorted excursions and believes love is enough. ”

Maxim exhaled. Not a laugh, more the sound of someone sorting through words for the ones that wouldn’t make things worse. He was threading that careful line between truth and comfort, trying to calm my nerves without dismissing them.

“He’s not wrong to believe in it,” Maxim said after a pause. “And he’s not helpless. Or so I’ve heard. He’s held his own when things turned volatile on those expeditions.”

“He had backup and a secondary plan. If he goes alone, and something happens to him, Bellam will be defenseless and alone in the wilderness. Roan is strong, agile, strategic, and brave. But that doesn’t always translate out there where anything can happen.

Especially not when you’re running on emotion and desperation. ”

“Do you think, if it comes down to traveling alone with no guarantees or safety net, Bellam will go?”

I hesitated. “She’s agreed to go because she loves him. She trusts him. And I’m getting the feeling she won’t say no, even if she should.”

Maxim stood, giving a quick prompt to Calyx. Moments later, he returned with two leirs and a decanter of something pale. I took a sip, feeling something both cool and sharp flowing down my throat. I leaned into him and sighed. “Much needed, thank you.”

“I can promise you this, I won’t let them go alone,” he said. “If Joss won’t guide them, I will.”

I looked at him, stunned. “You’d do that?”

“If it comes to it.”

“And if you’re flagged? If you can’t come back?”

“That won’t happen.”

I shook my head, caught between awe and rising panic. “You’re always ten steps ahead, I understand that, but you can’t plan for everything . I’m starting to worry your certainty might—”

He reached for my hand, his voice barely above a whisper. “Isara. I’ve considered it.”

I met his eyes, breath catching. “You haven’t. You haven’t because if you had, you wouldn’t be so quick to risk what it would do to me if I lost you.”

I felt my eyes burn with tears, and it seemed to surprise Maxim as much as it did me.

“You’re worried you’ll lose me?”

“We are days away from our Oathbond. Joss was right. I could’ve left when he asked, but I didn’t. This isn’t a convenient pairing for me, Maxim. I’ve waited for you my whole life. I’ve lo…” I paused and cleared my throat. “Yes. But to say I’m worried would be a spectacular failure of language.”

His mouth lifted, just barely, a ghost of a smile that reached his eyes before his lips.

“As long as you’re happy. That’s all I want, Isara.

If it’s with me, I’ll go to the ends of the earth.

I’d take on Sentinels, the Verdant Maw, the Drave.

I’d even brave the gas pockets choking The Null.

For you, for anyone you love. But when it comes to Joss…

” He paused. “I’ll never tire of hearing that you chose me.

I can fight someone who wants you. I can’t fight someone you want. ”

Good,” I said, deadpan. “Watching you wrestle yourself would be tragically undignified.”

Maxim let out a laugh, despite his best efforts to stay solemn.

“And just so we’re clear,” I added, “you choose me, too.”

In one fluid motion, Maxim pulled me into his lap, arms locking around me, his forehead slowly bowing until it lightly pressed my cheek. He sighed. “Every day, until there are no days left.”

It had lived in the back of my mind since Lev revealed the truth, that unlike other Supplicants, Maxim could leave me if he wanted.

The thought stirred a rush of conflicting feelings every time it surfaced.

The fear was real, bone-deep and breath-stealing.

But so was the comfort. Because despite having the freedom to walk away, he stayed. Not out of programming, but devotion.

“As for your other concerns, I can avoid detection. I’ve bypassed the system before to access the archives, and leaving the city is no different. There are back-channels. I’ve been charting them for weeks.”

My gaze narrowed. “Why?”

“Because I knew this was coming.”

The Sablestone’s light cooled as the day altered into night, casting long lines across the tiled flooring.

There were no sharp edges in Hyperion design, no wasteful geometry.

Even our ceilings responded to focus and field of vision, not by shifting structure, but by altering perception.

When you looked up, they seemed to stretch higher, when you looked down, they subtly contracted, creating the illusion of spatial adjustment without a single panel moving.

Everything about it was crafted to respond to the needs we expressed and the ones we hadn’t thought to.

But even here, wrapped in every comfort hyper-advanced engineering could provide, I felt unsettled. Maybe because life had always unfolded without resistance. Maybe because I knew that was about to change. Because, somehow, we had become the resistance.

“I hate that we even have to consider this,” I said finally.

Maxim reached for my hand, his fingers brushing across my palm in a line that settled something inside me without silencing it.

“We’ll find a way,” he said. “We’ll make one.”

“I don’t want to lose them, either,” I whispered.

“Then you won’t.”

We sat in a fragile pause. Outside, the sky deepened toward indigo.

Somewhere in the city, a melodic chime sequence marked the end of the civic workday.

A thousand systems still spun beneath us, economic, biometric, atmospheric.

Hyperion never truly slept. But in this room, we had carved out a bubble of stillness. But it couldn’t hold forever.

“You mentioned our Oathbond is quickly approaching,” Maxim said, squeezing my hand once.

“Yes, and I’ll feel so much better once it’s over. Not that I won’t enjoy the moment, but things will change for us—in a good way. Once we’re Oathbonded, you’ll have stronger legal protections. The Citadel won’t be able to touch you without going through me first.”

Maxim let out a quiet laugh. “I was thinking more about the day itself. Your dress. The Tethering Vow.”