Page 24 of The Sovereign: Part One
“His hair’s a rich, chestnut brown, thicker, wavy, kept longer than most, just above his shoulders, and his eyes”—I paused—“they’re a deep olive green, but layered somehow.Like light filtering through the canopy of the Arboretum.Whatever the shade, it’s breathtaking against his skin.”
Avaryn made another sound of approval.“So basically, the sum of your every fantasy.”
“Yes,” I said simply, trying to stifle a giggle.“He’s also taller than I thought he’d be.Six-four, broad shoulders, chiseled jawline, perfect smile.And he’s fit… really,reallyfit.Like the Vanguard security Supplicants who are designed to be intimidating.”
She let out a low whistle.“Praise be the AI.”
I rolled my eyes, but my lips twitched at the corners.“The aesthetics aren’t even the best part.”
“Obviously,” she said, waving a hand.“But also, let’s be real, if he looks like that, it’s going to be hard waiting until your Oathbond to touch him.”
“Stop,” I said, waving her away.
“Ugh,easy for you to say.I still have nine years to go.The wait is unbearable.But then again, I guess we’re not so different from the old world, still having to kiss dozens of frogs before we get our prince.”
I laughed, shaking my head.“Tell me you don’t still believe the Tier One lies.I can touch him.We only have to wait until after the Oathbond for the actual intimate act.”
Avaryn smirked.“Right, because that distinction makes it easier.”She leaned forward, eyes dancing with mischief.“So, big sister, how many men—or women—have you been with?Did your Tangled Twenties live up to the wholeexplore everythingphilosophy?Do you feel like you were sufficiently prepared for your Veritas year?”
“They’re referred to as Bacchanal Years, and yes,” I said simply.
Avaryn scoffed.“Oh, please.You really think I don’t know?”
I met her gaze, lips pressing together as I held back a smirk.“If you knew, you wouldn’t be asking.And anyway, what does it matter?”
“Because of the way you are now,” she said, grinning.“No one gets that good at restraint without first being terrible at it.”
I laughed, shaking my head.“That’s an interesting theory.”
She lifted her leir.“And I’m usually right.”
Our laughter filled the space between us, warm and unguarded.For all the expectations, for all the responsibilities and calculated steps, there were still these moments—unscripted, irreverent, and purely ours.
A translucent pane of soft light materialized between us, awaiting our input.Halcyon’s AI server smiled, greeting us in its melodic, neutral voice.
“Welcome to Halcyon, Senior Advisor Poeima and Avaryn.It’s good to see you again.Are you ready to order, or would you like a few more minutes?”
Avaryn leaned forward, her eyes flicking across the menu projected onto the interface.“A chamomile and honey infusion.Hot, please,” she said.
“And for you, Isara?Your usual?”the AI prompted, shifting its luminous frame toward me.
“Yes, please.Vanilla chai, no foam,” I responded.
“Anything else?May I suggest a cloud loaf or a lighter choice, our grainless bowl, using textural enhancements of crisped lentil sheets, root fiber curls, and roasted fungi strands.”
“Just the drinks for now, thank you,” I said.
“Acknowledged.Your beverages will arrive shortly.”
The interface dissolved as smoothly as it had appeared, leaving only the gentle murmur of conversation and the occasional chime of ceramic against polished composite in its wake.Avaryn smirked, propping her chin on her hand.“If our great-great-grandparents knew we could just talk to thin air for food and drinks to be delivered by tech, they’d drop dead a second time.”
I laughed, shaking my head.“They’d probably insist it was witchcraft.”
We continued chatting, slipping between casual gossip and work stories when she suddenly stiffened, her gaze drifting past me toward the window.
“Isara, look,” she whispered.
I followed her line of sight and froze.
