Page 16 of Aries

I drop just in time to avoid a swinging hay bale, pulling her down with me through the Unity Cord’s connection. We end up on opposite sides of a hay pile, the cord stretched taut between us, both breathing hard from the close call.

For a moment, we’re separated by only the width of the hay bale, close enough that I can see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, smell her light floral scent mixed with exertion. The Unity Cord vibrates between us like a plucked string, our synchronized breathing the only sound.

“That was close,” she breathes, her eyes locked on mine across the golden barrier.

“Too close,” I agree, my voice rough. The urge to reach around the hay bale, to close that final gap between us, is almost overwhelming.

“We should…” She swallows hard, making no move to increase the distance the cord allows.

“The next obstacle,” I finish, though neither of us moves immediately. The moment stretches, heavy with awareness and the maddening restriction of being so close yet unable to touch.

“We should…” My voice comes out rough. “The next obstacle…”

“Right.” She straightens quickly, creating proper distance. “Can’t fail now.”

Working together, we eventually complete the course, learning to anticipate each other’s movements, to communicate with gestures and quick glances rather than words. By the end, we’re moving almost as one person, the Unity Cord more guide than restraint.

The final challenge—the Trial of Trust—turns out to be deceptively simple. One partner must guide the other, blindfolded, through a maze-like garden while collecting specific flowers. The trick is that only the blindfolded person can pick the flowers, relying completely on their partner’s guidance.

“I’ll wear the blindfold,” Callie offers. “You’re good at giving directions.”

I am not sure whether this is a veiled insult or not.

The soft lavender cloth covers her eyes, leaving her completely dependent on my guidance. The Unity Cord takes on new significance as I lead her through the garden, describing each flower’s location and characteristics.

“Slightly to your left,” I murmur, watching her fingers brush the petals. “The stem is thorny, so be careful. Cup your hand around the bloom first, then slide down to find a safe grip point.”

She follows my instructions perfectly, adding another flower to our collection. The trust she’s showing, allowing me to guide her while she’s vulnerable, makes my chest tighten. After everything that happened in that cell, everything that came after…

“You’re very good at this,” she says softly as we navigate another turn. “Making me feel safe even when I can’t see.”

The words hit like a physical blow. “Callie…”

“I know,” she cuts in. “We’re not talking about it. Just… just guide me to the next flower.”

Working together, we complete our collection just as the first moon rises. “We make a good team,” she says softly, her words surprisingly natural.

“We always did,” I reply. “Even in that cell, even when everything was horrible, we found ways to protect eachother.”

This isn’t hate anymore. To be honest, it was never hate. It’s something far more dangerous—and far more precious.

The Committee member takes form to verify our success, then vanishes again, leaving us alone in the lamp-lit garden.

“Can I…” She gestures to the blindfold with our bound hands.

“Here.” Reaching up with my free hand, I carefully untie the cloth. Her eyes blink open, adjusting to the light. This close, I can see the tiny flecks of gold in the green, the slight dilation of her pupils as she focuses on me.

“We did it.” The relief is obvious in her voice. “All three challenges.”

“We did.” Something shifts in the air between us, heavy with possibility. The Unity Cord seems to quiver with our matched heartbeats.

A distant chime breaks the moment. “That’s the signal to return,” she says quickly, stepping back to the proper distance. “We should…”

“Yeah.”

The walk back to our cottage is silent but charged with new awareness. The Unity Cord has taught us a dangerous lesson—how well we can move together, anticipate each other’s needs, trust each other’s guidance. When it’s removed, the ghost of that connection will remain, another layer of intimacy these trials keep forcing upon us. Keeping proper distance feels harder with each passing day. And we’ve barely started.

Chapter Eleven

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