Sovereign (Sovereign Series) Read Online Free

the ribcage, but deliver
one as hard as I can muster directly to Vance’s face.  And I keep hitting.
    He
grabs me by the wrists to stop me.  “Enough.”  I resist, tugging my arms, but
he holds tightly. 
    “Cori,”
Cornelius says.  I stop in my tracks, embarrassed by the red mark on Vance’s
cheek.
    As
Vance lets go, Cornelius rises to meet me.  “Are those boys bullying you
again?”  His eyebrows are drawn inward with concern, further accentuating his
deeply wrinkled skin.  Bullies were the original reason Cornelius made Vance
start training me.  That was ages ago.
    “No,
sir.  It’s nothing.”
    “Let’s
take you to get some rest.”  Vance grabs my elbow.
    “I’m
sorry, V.”  I look up at him as I pull my elbow away.
    On
the way to the door, Vance simply nods.  He doesn’t look angry, but he has a
right to be.  I’ve never hit him that hard, not in the face.  “If you do it
again, I’ll give you a hug.” 
    Nice
play , I think.
    Cornelius
follows us, and before I reach the door, I turn back to him.  He wraps a
fragile arm around me and kisses my temple--something my father used to do. 
When I turn to the door, it’s already open and Nathan stands there, glaring at
me.  His jaw is tight, and he thrusts his hands into his pockets.
    If
Nathan had come a few moments sooner, he would have caught us fighting.  Nathan
can’t know that Vance trains me.  For my safety and Vance’s.
    Titus
begins to follow us out, but Cornelius stops him.  “Remember what I told you,
son.”
    Titus
nods.  “I will, sir.”
    As
I pass through the doorway with Vance and Titus on my heels, Nathan backs away,
not so big and bad with his father in the room.  Vance shuts the door a little
harder than necessary before leading me back to the elevator.
     
    My
room is how I left it, and my bed looks inviting if for no other reason than
it’s warm and dry.  I check the hall before closing the door then check under
the bed as well.  With the coast clear, I slide my dresser--the only other
piece of furniture besides the bed--to the opposite wall and climb atop it.  I
move the metal grate away from the large vent and reach my hand inside.  I’m
pleased when I wrap my fingers around the small canvas pouch and rip it from
the velcro holding it there.
    After
I return the vent cover, I sprawl on my bed and open the case.  Inside is a
hand-held device that Dylan found for me.  The tiny screen is broken, but the
projector still works.  When I turn it on, a light shines and I point it at the
ceiling, where words appear.  The device has tons of memory, storing hundreds
of books--history, fiction, poetry.  Today, a man named William Shakespeare
attempts to teach me of love, as he often does, but I fear I’m not a worthy
student of affection.  His beautiful words exhaust me and I allow myself to
close my eyes. 
    I
do not understand Shakespeare, and I don’t understand love.  But the lady poet,
Millay, who speaks of freedom, I can relate to.  I think of her as I drift to
sleep.
     
    “I
will be the gladdest thing
    Under
the sun!
    I
will touch a hundred flowers
    And
not pick one.
    I
will look at cliffs and clouds
    With
quiet eyes,
    Watch
the wind bow down the grass,
    And
the grass rise.
    And
when lights begin to show
    Up
from the town,
    I
will mark which must be mine,
    And
then start down!”

Chapter
Two
     
    Still
dreaming of walking free with flowers and endless green hills, I drag myself
into consciousness.  It takes a moment for me to realize I haven’t woken myself
up, something else has.  It’s alarming--no, it’s actually an alarm.  There are
many types but this one is less severe than others.  They are calling us to
assemble. 
    When
I reach the yard, most of the colony is already there, and Nathan is standing
atop some wooden crates with a microphone and some type of amplifier.  From the
look of pleasure in his eyes, I can’t help but think this must be bad news. 
    “People
of Antius,