Sovereign
Page 31
The affair administrator, a blond woman named Brandice whom Feyn had known since school, hurried up the steps and took a knee before Feyn, head slightly bowed.
“We are ready, my Sovereign.”
“Stand up, my friend. Please don’t kneel before me again.”
The woman lifted her head, saw Feyn’s smile, and stood. “The broadcast is scheduled to begin in three minutes.”
“Thank you, Brandice.”
The woman dipped her head and stepped to the side of the stage to direct a nearby servant.
“Are you ready?” Rom said.
“As much as I can be.”
Roland leaned forward. “Remember who you are.”
“Who I am or who I was?” She sighed. “I don’t feel like a Sovereign.”
“Which will only make you a better one.”
Her identity had shifted so dramatically that she didn’t know how she should rule, particularly as a Sovereign responsible for ushering in a new age. She was only just beginning to understand her new self. Gone was the rage. Gone, the bitterness, deceit, ambition, and hatred. In its place lay an undercurrent of peace and love greater than any she had ever known.
Among them, Jordin’s transformation remained the greatest. Rom lived in a constant state of grace and peace, but he hadn’t encountered the same mystery except in small pieces. Neither had Roland, Kaya, or her.
But their eyes had all been opened, even if not as wildly as one plunging through a lake, breathing Jonathan’s love as if it were water. Feyn had teased the younger woman that she had probably just been dehydrated—a joke they all shared in every time they heard the story—but every one of them knew her transformation was undeniable, and they longed in their hearts for the same.
Brandice caught her attention and held up one finger. One minute. Feyn acknowledged the signal with a nod.
“Tell me again, Jordin,” she said. “What is the secret to fully living in the Sovereign Realm? I would hear it before taking the stand.”
“Surrender,” Jordin said.
She knew this, of course. So simple. So easy to forget. She would ask to be reminded again and again, the rest of her life.
She considered the woman with the deeply settled countenance. The gentle smile on her face was now a permanent feature. She was more their leader than Rom, Roland, or even Feyn herself, if only in matters concerning Jonathan’s realm.
“Surrender to what?” she asked, though she knew the answer.
“Surrender to Jonathan,” she said. “To unconditional love. To what is. To the awareness that beyond all you see with the eyes in your head, there is a greater reality full of love that knows no suffering. Surrender to that knowing, and the fear in this life will always vanish.”
“It’s that simple.”
“Yes. It’s that simple.”
“Surrender to love,” Rom said, gazing out at the royals in the bleachers.
“Love without judgment,” Jordin said.
“Surrender to the fact that you are Sovereign of the world,” Roland said with a wry smile. “And to the knowing that you were chosen to take this stage and abolish five hundred years of tyranny under an Order of fear.”
He paused.
“Set them free, Feyn.”
She glanced up at the blue sky. A small, gray cloud hung on the distant horizon. The first in weeks. And then she nodded and pushed herself to her feet.
Thunderous applause erupted spontaneously, filling the air with what might be the first true expression of freedom in so many years. They didn’t yet know truth, but truth knew them.
“For you, my Sovereign,” she whispered.
“For Jonathan,” Jordin said.
“For Jonathan,” Roland and Rom repeated in unison.
Then Feyn Cerelia, Sovereign among Sovereigns, walked to the stand and lifted her hands to the roaring throng.
It was time to change the world.
EPILOGUE
THE LONE figure knelt at the base of a cliff deep in the desert, staring at the small pack he’d carried for three weeks, one of two, the other containing the remains of his food supply.
It was nearly sundown. He didn’t like being in the wasteland after dark; terror lurked there, images of the Citadel’s dungeons, of battle.
The time had come—he’d waited too long already.
He unbuckled the pack and carefully dug out the metal box inside. Flicking open the latch, he withdrew a carefully wrapped parcel. Lifted a small scroll bound by a single leather twine.
With trembling hands, he removed the string, opened Corban’s scroll, and read the words written in the Dark Alchemist’s hand.
My dear Ammon,
You are the last vestige of Order as it was…. as it was meant to become. Escape with your life. Establish an Order of Keepers. Guard this precious remnant for the Day of Reckoning.
The Dark Blood herein destroys or grants the power to live.
—Corban
Ammon carefully set down the note, tucked it inside, and then unwrapped the thing inside the box.
A vial of blood.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
TED DEKKER is a New York Times bestselling author with more than five million books in print. He is known for stories that combine adrenaline-laced plots with incredible confrontations between unforgettable characters. He lives in Austin, Texas, with his wife and children.
TOSCA LEE is the New York Times bestselling author of Demon: A Memoir, Havah: The Story of Eve, Iscariot, and the Books of Mortals series with New York Times bestselling author Ted Dekker. She is best known for haunting prose and humanizing portraits of maligned characters. A former international business consultant and lifelong adventure traveler, she makes her home in the Midwest.
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Contents
WELCOME
THE BEGINNING
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
NEWSLETTERS
COPYRIGHT
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 by Ted Dekker
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r your support of the author’s rights.
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ISBN 978-1-4555-1819-7