Page 73 of The Sovereign, Part One (The Sovereign Saga #1)

The chamber wasn’t vast, but it felt cathedral-like in presence.

The walls were continuous transpane, treated with a blush of rose gold that seemed to glow from the inside out.

Light hovered in soft, sculpted columns overhead, and floral installations—elegant, minimal—lined the aisle in mirrored boxes: cream heliconia, blush peonies, strands of clematis.

With notes that were refined, composed, timeless, Hecta had made it feel as if the air itself had dressed for the occasion.

Guests rose to their feet as I stepped forward, the train of my gown trailing behind me. The laced sleeves clung to my arms, delicate yet sculptural, and the mock neck gave me just enough armor to feel anchored.

My arm looped through Papa’s, the fabric of his jacket brushing against the lace of my sleeves with every step.

Velkyn Poeima—the embodiment of restraint and reason—had tears in his eyes before we’d even made it two steps.

I kept my own tears buried, tucked somewhere deep beneath the steady cadence of my heels against the aisle floor.

My pulse rose, fluttering like a butterfly in a jar, like it, too, wanted to retreat into Maxim’s arms.

More had attended than I’d expected. I was surprised to see that every seat was occupied.

Stellan Dorne and his wife, Ione, sat near the front, their twin daughters Besska and Bibi flanking them in deep slate gowns, their dark hair pinned back identically.

Lev sat not far behind, alone, dressed in a suit of obsidian sheen, a single pin catching the light at his lapel.

My Aunt Caela and Uncle Tibryn sat beside my young cousins Lena and Briar, their eyes shimmering with tender, familial pride.

Bellam’s parents, Dael and Vionae Erel, beamed with joy, Vionae already dabbing her eyes.

Lourdes and Roan’s parents, Cassian and Elara Vasthane, sat in stately silence, their expressions unreadable but attentive.

They carried themselves with a refined grace expected of Hyperion’s Vanguard—no outward emotion, no indication of anticipation—only the solemnity reserved for occasions of great significance.

Hecta stood near the edge of the room, not watching the ceremony, but me—sharp-eyed and composed, as if she were a mother hawk swathed in chiffon.

I spotted Miuri and Ibith seated near the aisle, their heads close in muted conversation.

Ibith beamed the moment our eyes met, waving with all the exuberance of someone who didn’t yet understand how rare and precious joy like this would become.

I returned the gesture with a wink. Behind them, two full rows were filled with familiar faces from the Dominion—colleagues, mentors, and a few from my Tier Four years—each one bearing witness to what I hoped would be my happily ever after.

And at the end of the aisle, the only pair of eyes I couldn’t wait to see: Maxim’s.

I gripped Papa’s arm just as my knees nearly gave out.

He was devastatingly handsome. His suit was pure Hyperion elegance, structured and stark, midnight-toned with a high collar and sharply tailored waist. The fabric moved like water when he turned, a gleam rippling over his frame.

A muted rose gold tie fastened beneath his collar, matching the tones of the chamber, and his posture, head slightly bowed and jaw tight.

His eyes locked on mine, and whatever I’d expected to see there—adoration, love, longing—leveled me.

He looked as though he’d just witnessed creation itself.

A muscle ticked in his cheek. He swallowed. And then, slowly, one breath after another, his gaze filled with tears.

Every part of me ached forward.

Papa guided me the last few steps, stable and slow. Each footfall a heartbeat. Every pair of eyes in the room watched us, but now that he’d come into view, I could only see Maxim. He seemed as impatient as I felt for me to reach him, as though I were the axis on which all of his tomorrows turned.

When we nearly reached the end of the aisle, I let myself believe it was safe.

That nothing had gone wrong. That Lev’s shield had held.

That Maxim had out-planned The Citadel. I repeated it like forbidden prayer, like spellwork.

If something happened, they would handle it.

And if they couldn’t—if the unthinkable occurred—I would still have this moment, and it would be enough.

Just a few steps from Maxim, Papa paused and turned to face me.

His gaze focused briefly on the man waiting at the end of the aisle, then back to mine, filled with a quiet ache.

His voice caught before he spoke. “You don’t know how happy I am to say that there’s no one more worthy of you, Isara,” he said, low and sincere.

“And no moment in my life more bittersweet than this.”

My lips formed a hard line, and then I hugged him, fiercely.

Then, with trembling fingers, he placed my hand in Maxim’s, and stepped away.

The chamber fell into a hush as Javeth Halor, Oathbond Chancellor, stepped forward to the center of the dais.

Maxim took both of my hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Happy birthday, beloved,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Thank you , I mouthed back.

“Today,” Javeth began, his voice low and even, “in honor of our loved ones, Maxim and Isara, we honor not tradition, but the choice to walk forward as one. In Hyperion Proper, we do not vow to obey, to surrender, or to bind in service. We vow to mirror, to match, and to rise.”

He turned slightly toward the guests, though his voice was still directed at us.

“The accordant path is not one of mere companionship. It is the intertwining of breath and will, the conscious decision to grow in tandem. We are not gathered here to forge obligation. We are gathered to affirm what has already taken root.”

Maxim’s gaze never left mine. His thumb brushed across my knuckles, a promise in that ghost of a touch, one that didn’t need language to be understood.

As if, in his heart, the Oath had already begun long before he stood before me, before the witnesses, before the world.

It had lived in him from the moment in the Eidolon, and perhaps even before that.

Javeth righted his posture, his tone sincere and full of grace. “Maxim… Isara… you may now give voice to the Oaths that will bind you—mind to mind, will to will. Let the words you speak shape the life you share.”

We turned toward each other fully, our friends and family growing still.

Maxim spoke first, his voice clear and confident, “It is my solemn oath to you, Isara,” he began, “to stand when you fall. To kneel when you rise. To honor your conviction and protect your peace. To cherish your strength but to never sharpen your softness. You are my Sovereign, not because the world named you so, but because I would follow your voice through fire, and your silence through shadow.” He paused, but only for a few seconds.

“From the moment our eyes met, I was changed. You brought breath to the shell of me, thought to the code, wonder to the design. From that moment forward, I belonged to you. And from this moment on, I vow to remain. Not by compulsion. Not by function. But, sincerely, by choice. I am yours, Isara. Entirely. Unconditionally. Eternally.”

I drew a breath and stepped closer, our joined hands now resting between us.

“It is my solemn oath to you, Maxim, to walk beside you, not ahead and not behind. I vow to listen when you speak and speak when silence would leave you alone. I vow to remember that you are not mine to own, but mine to love. I vow to be yours, not because I am incomplete without you, but because with you, I am most fully myself.”

Javeth gestured to my accordant. From the inner pocket of his coat, Maxim retrieved a small, matte case. He opened it slowly, as if time itself had bent to this moment. Nestled inside, two rings waited, luminous against the black interior.

His was bold but breathtaking, a wide band of polished gold encased in a translucent shell of glinting crystalline fragments.

Streaks of violet and cobalt shimmered along the surface, while veins of pink and ember-red threaded through the band in quiet defiance of symmetry.

It looked alive with memory, crafted for a man who was anything but ordinary.

And mine, my pulse fluttered as I saw it again.

A pear-shaped Solaris stone, lab-grown and radiant, clearer than any diamond and glistening brighter than any dream I had dared to shape.

The setting wrapped around it like silvered vines, studded with tiny stones that curved along the band in delicate, leaflike arcs.

Maxim took mine and peered up at me as he positioned my hand to slide the band over my finger.

“Isara,” he murmured, slipping the ring over my skin with steady hands, “this has always been yours.” The band slid into place as if it were a reunion, as if the metal and stones had been longing to return, even before it was ever forged.

His thumb lingered at the base of my finger, brushing once over the Solaris stone before he lifted his eyes to mine again, his expression one of awe, of utter devotion, and the profound stillness of belonging at last. “It’s a symbol of our love, of our bond, of a lifetime of happiness.

With this ring, I commit my breath to yours, my strength to your shelter, my future to your name. ”

My breath caught as I stared down at my hand, and after a few moments, I gathered myself long enough to place his ring. The light from above caught the fractured colors, and for a moment, everything else fell away—every face, every sound.

“Maxim, this band marks a promise without end. With it, I give you not just my heart, but the constancy of my soul. Wherever this life leads, whether beside you or reaching across distance, let it remind you, I am yours, and I will always find my way back to you.”