Page 74 of The Sovereign, Part One (The Sovereign Saga #1)

An emotional echo among the guests stirred the room. Some clutched hands. Others dabbed at their cheeks. But none of it registered beyond the man in front of me. Maxim’s eyes poured over me, as if I were the culmination of a lifetime he didn’t quite believe he deserved.

Javeth nodded once, the fabric of his mantle brushing against the floor. “The accordants have spoken. On the eve of this day, you were tethered. Now, you are bound.”

Javeth lifted his hand. “As witness to these oaths, and servant to our civic pledge, I pronounce you Oathbound. May it hold strong through stillness and storm, and may your unity strengthen our future.”

Maxim cupped my face in both hands, and when his forehead touched mine, I felt his breath, uneven and full of relief. “It’s done. This is real,” he said softly. “You’re mine… and I’m yours.”

He kissed me, not with hunger or haste, but as if he were pressing the moment into memory. My hands gripped his coat, pulling him closer, caught between clinging to what we’d just become and surrendering to the relief that it was, at last, complete.

We turned to face the room, hands still clasped, our guests rising from their seats. The applause wasn’t loud. In Hyperion culture, ceremony was respected, not celebrated with noise. But it was whole. Complete. It filled the space like sunlight in winter—bright, soft, and necessary.

Lev nodded, something unreadable in his expression, but I told myself it meant we were safe. Bellam’s eyes glistened with tears she didn’t try to hide. Papa’s hands trembled against my mina’s, and Avaryn looked both overjoyed and stunned into stillness.

And Maxim stood beside me, his presence like gravity. For the first time, I wasn’t dreaming of this moment. I was living it. Bound. Seen. Chosen. And finally, whole.

We lingered over wine and infused tea cakes for nearly an hour after the ceremony, basking in the afterglow as conversation filled the air.

One by one, we began our goodbyes—warm embraces, whispered blessings, hands clasped a little longer than usual.

Our bags were already loaded into the transport, waiting like I was: anxious, impatient, half-dreaming of the suite at the resort.

With each guest who stepped away, my anticipation coiled tighter.

At last, the final approach came. Stellan Dorne, his accordant Ione, and their twin daughters bringing up the rear of the reception line.

“Isara,” he said, hugging me. “The ceremony was breathtaking. Thank you for inviting us. We’re honored to be part of it. Maxim Poeima,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m Stellan Dorne, lead administrator of the Dominion Building.”

“Stellan is being modest,” I interjected. “He’s the Director of Civic Order and the Dominion’s Chief Administrator.”

“Oh,” Maxim said, impressed. “Then the honor is mine, Director Dorne.”

Stellan shook his head, then bowed with humility. “This is my beautiful accordant, Ione, and our daughters, Bisska and Bibi.”

“Your presence means a great deal,” Maxim said, clasping each of their hands with sincerity.

The twins looked entirely enchanted, and I could hardly blame them. I’d spent nearly every moment of the past thirty days beside him, and still, each time Maxim appeared at our Sablestone, I needed a breath to remind myself he was real.

Stellan turned his back toward his family slightly, leaning in. “I didn’t want to bother you during your Vesture, but the IRDAA Bill you’ve been working on? It should pass Monday morning.”

My mouth fell open. “It…” I trailed off, breathing out a laugh. “But it wasn’t on the schedule until next month.”

Stellan winked at me. “Consider it an Oathbond present. I wanted to tell you myself.”

“Thank you!” I said, throwing my arms around him, then quickly thought better of it.

I glanced up at Maxim. “The Individuality Recognition and Design Autonomy Act. I’ve been working on it for two years; it affirms the personhood and operational dignity of Hiven.

” I turned back to Stellan. “But wait. I haven’t been over the final. Do you think I could…?”

He chuckled. “Isara, I have a full team handling it. I’ll review the final draft personally before it moves forward. For now, you’re newly Oathbonded, and it’s your birthday. Enjoy it!”

“I know, but I… if it’ll be voted on Monday morning, I’d really like to make sure the language is solid.” I glanced up at Maxim. “Would you mind if we stopped by my office on the way?”

“Of course not. I know it’s important to you.”

I lifted up on the balls of my feet to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, sincerely. Today is important to me, too.”

“But we have thirty days of Accordance. It can wait another hour or two.”

I beamed at Stellan. “Isn’t he wonderful?”

“Indeed, he is. Just pin your approved final to the Forum grid and I’ll take a look first thing Monday. And after that?” Stellan asked, arching one brow.

“Enjoy, yes, sir. Director Dorne… I will. Thank you so much.” I could barely form the words, squeezing Maxim to me as the Dornes turned to leave. “Did you hear that? Did I hear that? You truly don’t mind, right? You’re not just saying that to be polite?”

Maxim’s hands settled gently on my shoulders before he bent to press a kiss to my lips, unhurried, anchoring. “All I want is for you to be happy,” he said. “Whatever that looks like, whatever it takes.”

I jumped up to hug him, squeezing him tight. “Thank you! This is so unbelievably rude and selfish, I’m so sorry, but thank you so much!”

We walked hand in hand, both of us stealing glances at our rings, grinning each time like it was the first we’d noticed them.

In the transport, Maxim made sure our bags were secure before instructing Calyx to take us to the Dominion Building.

The ride was a blur of laughter and conversation, about the ceremony, the vows, how we felt in our skin now that the words had been spoken.

But more than once, Maxim lifted my hand, studying the ring that now circled my finger.

His eyes lingered, almost disbelieving, as if the sight were too unimaginable to believe.

Finally, he pressed a kiss to it, a silent prayer sealed against my skin.

The transport eased to a halt outside the Dominion.

I offered a polite nod to the atrium steward, Fio, a hospitality-grade Hiven posted near the entrance, then scanned my badge and guided Maxim toward the Ascens.

Heads turned as we passed, still dressed in full Oathbond formality, our attire and joined hands drawing more attention than either of us had thought to anticipate.

Inside the Ascens, Maxim wasted no time. He turned to me like gravity itself had shifted, backing me gently against the cool transpane, his body a wall of heat and restraint.

“Hold still,” he murmured, fingers sliding up to the back of my mock-neck collar. I heard the faint pop of each button, and then the glide of fabric giving way as he loosened the high neckline and bared the curve of my throat.

His mouth found my skin instantly—hot, desperate, devastating.

He kissed beneath my jaw, then lower, until his lips brushed along the hollow of my collarbone.

I clutched at his coat, breath shallow, hips tipping toward his without meaning to.

One hand slid down my spine, the other eased the neckline of my dress just enough to deepen the access, and, to my dismay, the sound I made was barely human.

“You have no idea,” he said with labored breath against my skin, “how difficult it’s been to wait.”

I swallowed a groan as the Ascens began to slow, and in the next moment, Maxim righted himself.

The fabric slid back into place with a gentle tug, and his fingers moved quickly, rebuttoning the collar at the nape of my neck with maddening finesse.

A final kiss to my temple, and he stood tall, composed, elegant—every Sovereign’s dream.

The panels opened, and he offered his arm like he hadn’t just melted me with his mouth in thirty vertical seconds.

“I need to tell you I fully endorse what you’re doing. And also, this is torture,” Maxim said, stopping just short of my office.

“The bill is already fairly clean. I just want to make sure. I’ll be quick, I promise. Calyx? The panel.”

“No,” Maxim said, stopping me just outside.

He shook his head, anchoring himself against the wall above me with his fist, just one arm barring me from going inside.

He leaned in close. “Do I want you in bed all to myself? Yes.” He winced.

“More than you could possibly fathom.” He shook off the thoughts in his head and exhaled.

“But you’ve been working on this bill for two years, Isara.

Truly, there’s no rush. Take as much time as you need. ”

My shoulders fell, and my brows pulled together. “I really did just bond myself to the perfect man.”

He scanned my face, a small grin turning up the edges of his mouth. “Go on,” he said, his eyes flicking to the threshold.

I rushed inside. “Calyx?”

“Pulling the IRDAA now,” he answered.

Calyx projected a rendering of the bill, the language stretched across half the paneled wall in fine, glowing script. I stepped closer, narrowing my eyes at the phrasing in Section Twelve—too broad. It left room for interpretation that could gut the clause entirely if challenged.

I motioned with one hand and said, “Highlight the language regarding biometric variance allowances.” The section burned brighter.

Maxim stood silently behind me, respectful of the shift in my focus. I read it twice, then twice again. “Calyx, replace ‘permitted modifications’ with ‘endorsed individual distinctions.’ I don’t want this loopholed into cosmetic upgrades. It has to be about identity, not aesthetics.”

“ Confirmed,” Calyx replied, the phrasing updating in real time.