Page 9 of Aries

“Questions?” The Committee member’s multifaceted eyes reflect the dying sunlight.

“No, I think we’re—” I start, but Aries cuts in.

“The bedroom arrangement. You mentioned specific sleeping requirements?”

“Yes. You must share the bed.” My heart skips several beats. Even after all this time, sweat pops onto my upper lip when I think we might be forced to have sex in this trial. “However, physical intimacy is prohibited. The barrier provided must remain between you at all times.”

Does it make me a bad person that relief floods through me at this reprieve?

We follow as they step into the room and gesture to what looks like a long, thin pillow running down the center of the bed. It’s the width of my hand.

“That’s supposed to keep us separate?” The panicked words slip out before I can stop them.

“The barrier is symbolic rather than physical. Like many aspects of the Rites, its power lies in your commitment to honoring it.” Their tone suggests they’ve given this speech before. “Now, please review the first chapter of the Manual before retiring. Your morning ritual begins precisely at sunrise.”

With that, they glide out, leaving us alone in our new home. The silence feels heavy with everything we’re not saying.

“Well,” I finally manage, “should we see what delightful surprises await us in the Manual?”

Aries moves to the table, his ceremonial robe rustling. We’re still in our wedding clothes, I realize. Still carrying the lingering sweetness of honey and fruit from the surprisingly sensual feeding ritual.

“‘Chapter One: Daily Observances’,” he reads, his deep voice steady despite the situation. “‘The day begins with the Greeting of Unity…’”

Stepping closer, I peer around him—careful not to touch him.

“‘Partners must touch foreheads while speaking the traditional morning blessing,’” I read aloud. “‘This connection symbolizes the joining of minds and spirits.’”

“It gets better,” he says dryly. “‘Following the morning greeting, partners shall assist each other in grooming rituals. This includes hair brushing and braiding, symbolizing the care and attention required for a lasting bond.’”

A startled laugh escapes me. “They want us to braid each other’s hair? Your horns might make that interesting.”

His lips twitch. “I’m more concerned about achieving that forehead touch around them.”

“We’ll figure it out. We’ve faced worse challenges.”

His expression sobers. “Callie…”

“Don’t.” I’m no fool. At some point, we’ll have to discuss our history; the air is thick with it. Now isn’t the time, though. I turn to explore the cottage, though I think I’ve already discovered the highlights. “We’re here. We’re doing this. No more second-guessing.”

The kitchen is well-stocked but tiny, with barely enough counter space for one person to work. The meditation corner holds two cushions positioned face-to-face, close enough that our knees would touch if we sat there.

“The bathroom off our bedroom is proportionate to everything else,” Aries calls from the other room. “Not sure I’ll fit in the shower or the tub.”

“Of course it’s small,” I mutter. Everything is designed to force proximity, to prevent the physical and emotional distance we’ve maintained for years.

The bedroom proves equally challenging. Besides the symbolically divided bed, there’s a small dresser and a bench where we’re supposed to sit for the hair-braiding ritual. A large window looks out over a garden that would be charming if I weren’t so overwhelmed by everything else.

“We should change,” I say, spotting our bags near the dresser. “Get out of these ceremonial robes before—”

The words die as I realize the implications. We’ll have to help each other with the fastenings again.

“I’ll wait in the other room while you change,” Aries offers quietly. “Just… call when you need help with the back panels.”

He disappears through the archway, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts. The robe feels heavier now, weighted with everything this day has meant… and everything still to come.

“Ready,” I call after changing everything I can reach.

His footsteps approach slowly, deliberately. The floorboards creak beneath his weight, each step measured and purposeful. My pulse quickens as he draws near, the air between us charged with unspoken tension.

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