Page 40 of The Sovereign: Part One
I blinked.The name landed like a stone in still water, disrupting my thoughts.I hadn’t.Not once.Not even in the moments between words with Maxim, when old feelings might have surfaced.
“I—I haven’t, no.Not since I saw Maxim for the first time.”
“Isara.”Bellam’s voice was knowing, gentle.“That means something, doesn’t it?”
I exhaled slowly.“Maybe.”
She didn’t press, though I could feel her curiosity, her concern.What I didn’t tell her was that Joss’s absence in my thoughts had been unintentional.That I hadn’t even considered how my evening with Maxim might affect what was between Joss and me—or what was left of it.Now that my feelings for Maxim were becoming more concrete, I didn’t want thoughts of whatever Chiron and Artemis were planning against The Vale to prevent me from being fully present with Maxim.How could I decide about my future if my thoughts were divided?
That was another thing I’d left unsaid.I hadn’t mentioned my lingering unease from my meeting with Chiron and Artemis.The questions they’d asked, the pointed interest they had in my perception of Hyperion and its place in the world.Their scrutiny.Their carefully veiled concern.My half-truths and omissions with my best friend were adding up, and I didn’t like the way it made me feel.
“I love you, but I have to go,” I said at last.“I’ll call you later.”
“Fine, but only because I know that if you completely fall for Maxim, it means you’re staying here, where you belong.”
The call ended, and Bellam’s image blinked out of the interface, leaving options for a breakfast date attire in its place.Calyx began the Hydrabay sequence, adjusting the pressure and temperature while different, sophisticated yet relaxed ensembles rotated gracefully, shifting in a three-dimensional carousel pattern, each ensemble displayed in crisp detail.Hair, dermatone, attire—selections curated to the nuances of Hyperion’s trends, the understated elegance expected of someone in my position.
I chose quickly: a soft-knit, heather-gray turtleneck, fitted but comfortable, paired with tailored slate-gray wide-leg trousers that added depth to the monochromatic ensemble, the hems cuffed and falling just above the ankle.The sweater was weighted enough that I didn’t need a coat—it carried the structure and warmth without sacrificing shape.I completed the look with a pair of matching heeled lythera booties, sleek and modern, adding just the right amount of elegance.My hair, straight and sleek, falling just above my shoulders, earthy dermatone, subtle but polished, and a muted wine lip gloss to tie it together.I stepped into the styling console, my head gently secured into place, and within ten minutes, my hair, skin, and dermatone were perfected, a transformation that required no effort on my part beyond the selections I had made.Just as I slipped into my boots, Calyx’s voice returned.
“Isara, Maxim has arrived.”
I stilled.“What time is it?”
“The time is 8:21.”
He had teased about being early, but as a Supplicant beholden to protocol, I didn’t think for a moment he was serious.
“Grant entry!”I said, rushing downstairs.
The panel swept open, and there he stood, framed against the rain, an umbrella in one hand, the other resting casually in the pocket of a black wool overcoat.Beneath it, he wore a fitted black sweater, dark-wash denim, and sleek boots.
His smile was warm, patient despite the drizzle that clung to his sleeves.“I said I would try.”
I leaned against the threshold, tilting my head with an amused smile.“And here I was thinking I’d have to wait the full nine minutes before I could see you.I’m not sure I can take more good news this week.”
“I sense sarcasm,” he said, grabbing my middle and pulling me against him.
I let out a squeal I was not at all proud of, but that didn’t stop Maxim from kissing my temple and then my cheek.I glanced at the rain trailing down his coat.“Would you like to come in?”
He set me on my feet.“Unfortunately, that’s a privilege I’ll have to wait until Friday to enjoy.”
“Oh,thatpart of protocol you adhere to.”
He winked at me, then reached for my hand.“Ready?”
I intertwined my fingers with his, letting my grip tighten just slightly.“Trying looks good on you,” I teased, falling into step beside him.
With a satisfied grin, he adjusted the umbrella, making sure not a drop of rain touched me.His attentiveness was quickly becoming utterly disarming.No one had ever affected me like Maxim had managed, and in just a few hours’ time.He had been a constant thought since I was a girl, but now he was officially the main character of my favorite memory.I wasn’t sure how much longer it would be before I’d gotten so used to his presence that moments without him would feel hollow, how quickly familiarity could shift, turning presence into expectation, and absence into moments in between happiness, a space waiting to be filled.
Once inside the transport, he didn’t pull away from the walkway, instead turning to face me.“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.But I can promise that I’ll practice… every day.”
“Practice?”
“Practice getting used to it… to being able to look at you, be close to you, touch you.”
His hands framed my face, and then his lips met mine—slow, intentional—a kiss that felt like a commitment in itself.When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.“My apologies, but I’ve been thinking about tasting you for nine and a half hours.”
My cheeks felt like they were on fire, as well as other parts of me.“You never have to apologize for that,” I said, my head still spinning from the way he’d just made the world tilt.
