Page 14 of Aries

“Do not!” The word comes out sharp. “Please. We can’t …”

“Can’t what? Talk about this?Feelthis?” Another step closer. “Why not?”

His laugh holds no humor. “Because in eighty-eight days, this ends. One way or another. Either I die, or…”

“Or?”

“Or we succeed, and you’re free to walk away. Back to your life. Back to pretending none of this ever happened.”

The bitterness in his voice takes me by surprise. “Is that what you think I want?”

“It doesn’t matter what either of us wants,” he says quietly. “What matters is surviving the trials. Nothing else.”

“And if surviving means being honest about what’s between us?”

He looks at me then, something fierce and protective in his expression. “Then we’ll be honest enough to pass the trials. But no more than that. I won’t trap you in something just to save my life.”

“What if I want something real?”

The words hang in the air between us, shocking us both. Before he can respond, the familiar chime announces a Committee member’s arrival.

“Evening meditation begins in ten standard minutes,” the member intones. “Please prepare yourselves.”

They shimmer out of sight, leaving us with the weight of everything we’ve said—and everything we haven’t.

“We should…” Aries gestures vaguely toward the meditation corner.

“Yeah.” My voice comes out thin and reedy. “We should.”

As we take our positions on the cushions, knees touching as required, I can’t help but wonder how many more truths will these trials force us to face? And what will we do with them once they’re spoken?

The Truth Mirror gleams in the fading light, as if laughing at our attempts to maintain a careful distance while everything around us conspires to bring us closer. Eighty-eight days left to either face our truths or die trying.

Right now, I’m not sure which option terrifies me more.

Chapter Nine

Callie

The next day passes according to the Manual’s prescribed routine—morning meditation, hair braiding that feels more intimate each time Aries’ fingers work through my hair, shared meals where we’re learning to read each other’s expressions across our small table. But underneath the familiar rhythm, tension builds as we both know the relatively easy daily expectations are going to increase in complexity.

Evening meditation brings its own challenges as we sit knee-to-knee, sharing the breathing exercises that require us to synchronize our movements. Each shared breath feels weighted with anticipation and dread.

Hours pass in relative quiet afterward—we share a simple dinner, both lost in thought about what the Mirror revealed yesterday. The weight of our confessions hangs between us, not uncomfortable but significant.

The Committee member arrives before we can retreat to our usual careful distance. Their faceted eyes gleam with an unsettling intensity.

“Tomorrow you will participate in the Harvest Festival. The Unity Cord trial will test your ability to work together while maintaining prescribed distance through traditional challenges.”

My stomach drops. A public trial.

After they wink out, like mist in the sun, the silence feels suffocating. I’ve gotten used to the relative safety of our cottage. The thought of going out in public on a planet that was so ready to extradite Aries to Garrox Prime for his death sentence terrifies me.

“We don’t have to do this,” he says quietly. “We could refuse the public trial, find another way to—”

“No.” The single word comes out so loud it might as well have been a shotgun blast. “I’ve been in space long enough to know that my fear doesn’t rule me.”

His expression holds pride at my resolve. “You’re right. We’ll face whatever comes.”

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