Page 127 of The Sovereign: Part One
Bellam knelt beside me.“What is that look?Are you okay?”
I nodded, my throat feeling too tight to speak.
Lourdes approached at last, her eyes sweeping over me with careful scrutiny, as though committing every detail to memory.“Well,” she said, folding her hands with regal satisfaction, “Hecta has outdone herself.You’ve nothing to fear.Maxim will be lucky to remain upright when he sees you.You are, without question, the most breathtaking accordant I’ve ever seen.I include myself in that statement, and I had a design team working around the clock for six weeks.”
Avaryn threw herself on the cushion next to me, dramatically letting her hands fall to her lap.“Can we go now?Or are we going to cry and braid hair and burn sage first?”
Bellam snorted.“You’re insufferable.”
A soft knock sounded, and I rose to my feet, struggling to swallow what felt like a stone in my throat.When I saw the first glimpse of the person standing at the threshold, my shoulders relaxed.
Papa entered with some hesitation, but the moment his eyes found me, the emotion on his face shattered any attempt at composure.“My darling girl,” he said, his voice already thick, his lower lip trembling as he crossed the room.He reached for my hands first, then leaned in to press a trembling kiss to my cheek.When he pulled me into his arms, it was gentle—almost reverent—as if too tight an embrace might leave us both in a puddle of tears.
“I wasn’t sure what to expect,” he murmured against my temple, voice faltering.“But you… You’re the image of your mina on our Oathbond day.”He pulled back, just enough to get a second look, his eyes scanning from the crown of my softly curled hair to the hem of my gown.He gave a slow shake of his head, awe smoothing nearly every line of his face.“I’m rarely without words, Isara, but right now, I can barely remember how to speak.”
“Thank you, Papa,” I whispered.
His jaw tightened as he tried to hold it together.“I’m so proud of you,” he managed, voice cracking.He swiped at his eyes before the tears spilled over, as if pride alone might keep them at bay.
“Is it time?”Avaryn asked.
Papa nodded.
My mina approached, kissed my forehead, then lingered for a moment.“I see every version of you in this moment—the child, the dreamer, the woman you’ve become.And all of them are beautiful.Never forget, you carry the light of your father and the will of your mother.Whatever lies ahead, know that.”
The stone in my throat seemed to swell as I nodded.She couldn’t have known how much I needed those words to hold me together.
As the threshold parted and my friends, Avaryn, and Mina stepped through, I lingered a moment longer with Papa, turning to catch one last glimpse of myself in the mirrored transpane.Mina was right.For a heartbeat, I saw the ghost of a girl who once stared up at her Sablestone walls, imagining the man she’d one day choose, fantasizing about this very moment with wide eyes and a heart full of wonder.That girl blinked back at me, and then she was gone, replaced by the woman standing in her place.The day had arrived.Whether it would unfold in peace or end beneath the boots of marching Regs, none of it mattered.Not if my forever was Maxim.
The music began, low and luminous, a slow cascade of strings rising like morning light over still water.It was ancient in tone, something orchestral and sweeping.It echoed through the space, as though the room itself remembered every Oathbond ever made.
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.
