Page 35 of Aries

The merchant hurriedly sells us the beans, probably eager to end the spectacle. As we move to the spice stall, I notice my hands trembling—not from fear of the confrontation, but from the lingering effects of Aries’ touch. The memory of his body pressed against mine, the way his hands felt on my skin, makes it hard to focus on anything else.

“You don’t have to be so brave,” he murmurs as we walk, close enough that I can smell his scent, though we’re maintaining proper distance. The careful gap between us feels like torture after experiencing his embrace.

“Yes, I do.” My voice holds steel, despite the tremor in my hands. “If we let them intimidate us, they win. I won’t let them make me feel ashamed of choosing hope over hate.”

Years of training in the ship’sludushave taught me to stand my ground, even when my knees want to shake. I’ll never be a gladiator, that’s not why I train. I do it to empower myself, to be able to handle myself in a fight if necessary. More importantly, I’ve learned that sometimes the bravest thing you can do is refuse to back down.

Aries’ expression shifts at my words, something vulnerable flickering in his golden eyes. The way he’s looking at me now—like I’m something precious and dangerous all at once—makes my pulse quicken.

“Besides,” I add, trying to lighten the mood despite the tension still crackling between us, “I had backup if needed. Even if said backup was trying very hard to be well-behaved.”

“Yes. Very hard,” he agrees roughly, his voice dropping lower. “Though watching you handle them…” He breaks off, glancing at the Committee member still monitoring us.

“What?” Heat blooms in my cheeks at his tone.

“Makes me wish these trials were over,” he admits, the words carrying dangerous promise. “So I could show you exactly how impressive I found your courage.”

The heat in his voice causes a wave of desire to ripple through me. Even here, surrounded by a Committee member and a hostile crowd, he finds ways to kindle fire between us.

We complete our shopping quickly, though open gossip and gaping stares follow us through the market. I maintain my dignity, head high despite the tension, but inside I’m still reeling from our contact.

Back in our cottage, I finally let my composure slip as I let out a sigh of relief. “Well, that was…”

“Terrifying?” Aries suggests, moving to help but maintaining careful distance. “Infuriating?”

“Educational,” I manage, though my voice wavers slightly. “Now we know what we’re really facing. And…” I pause, meeting his eyes. “Now I know what it feels like to have you hold me.”

The admission slips out before I can stop it. His pupils dilate, the air between us suddenly charged with new tension.

“Callie…” His voice holds warning and desire in equal measure.

“One mark against us,” I murmur, unable to look away from the heat in his gaze.

“Callie, it was worth every second.”

Chapter Twenty

Callie

“Partnership under stress.” Three balls of fluff explode into our cottage before the Committee finishes their announcement. Tiny blue eyes. Oversized paws. Immediate chaos. They look like a cross between kittens and puppies, with wide blue eyes and paws that are too big for their body.

“Zorling offspring,” they explain. “Recently orphaned and requiring constant care. You must keep all three alive and thriving for seventy-two standard hours. Failure of even one results in a mark against your progress.”

The creatures—no bigger than my palm—scatter in different directions. One heads for the kitchen and somehow manages to climb onto the counter, another burrows under our meditation cushions, and the third starts a pitiful wailing that arrows straight to my heart.

Spark immediately zips after the counter-climber, creating gentle barriers of light to prevent it from reaching thedrassahpot while somehow managing to look both helpful and utterly enchanted by these tiny, furry beings.

“They require feeding every two standard hours,” the Committee member continues as chaos erupts around us. “Temperature regulation, socialization, and protection from theirown curiosity. Zorlings at this age can die from loneliness, overfeeding, cold, or getting into dangerous spaces they are too young to know to avoid.”

Aries is already moving, his gladiator reflexes serving him well, as he clutches the wailer to his chest. “How exactly do we feed them?”

“Specialized formula needs to be applied with these.” They produce what look like tiny eye droppers. “Miss a feeding, and they weaken rapidly.”

After they leave, we stare at each other over the chaos of three tiny, needy creatures.

“Well,” I say as one of them climbs my leg with tiny, needle-sharp claws, “this is definitely different from meditation, hair braiding, and dancing.”

Aries’ laugh mingles with the renewed wailing from all three zorlings. “At least now I understand why so many couples fail the trials. This is going to be exhausting.”

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