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Chapter Nineteen

C allie

The Committee’s latest assignment seemed simple enough—purchase specific ingredients for a ceremonial meal we’re required to prepare together.

What they didn’t mention was that our required public appearances have become a spectacle, drawing crowds of both supporters and protesters to whatever location we visit.

The Sanctorii Central Market bustles with afternoon shoppers, but I can feel their scrutiny as we navigate between stalls with our Committee escort trailing discretely behind.

Someone’s organized this—the way people position themselves to block our path, the coordinated stares, the subtle herding toward less populated areas where confrontation would be easier.

“Fresh drassah beans,” I murmur, consulting our list. “Then spices for that ceremonial dish you mentioned.”

People certainly aren’t subtle, as evidenced by their snide chatter and pointed fingers as they follow us through the throng. My shoulders tighten when people stare too long, recognizing us from the news feeds.

The protests have grown more organized since our public Unity Dance. What started as scattered objections has become coordinated resistance, with security reporting planned disruptions at every appearance.

“Murderer’s whore,” someone hisses as we pass. Aries’ hands clench involuntarily, but I shoot him a warning look.

“Not worth it,” I say quietly. “Let’s just get what we need.”

The drassah merchant eyes us warily as we approach his stall. “We don’t serve killers here.”

“The credits spend the same,” I respond evenly, lifting my chin despite the fear crawling up my spine. “And these beans are required for our assignment.”

“Required?” His face twists with disgust. “Like that dance show you put on? Making a mockery of justice with your little love story?”

Other shoppers stop to watch the confrontation unfold. I sense Aries coiling beside me, ready to defend, but I force myself to remain steady.

“Sir,” I say, keeping my voice firm but polite, “we’re not here to debate justice. Just to buy beans. Will you sell them or should we try another stall?”

My calm seems to inflame him further. “You think you can redeem a murderer with pretty words and fancy moves?”

Before I can respond, someone shoves me hard from behind. The force sends me stumbling directly toward a merchant’s stall that is lined with sharp metal farm tools.

Without thinking, Aries lunges forward, his powerful arms wrapping around my waist and spinning me away from the deadly display. We collide with a nearby fabric stall in a tangle of limbs and silk.

For a heartbeat that feels like an eternity, we’re pressed together completely—my soft curves molded against his hard chest, my face buried in the hollow of his throat where I can taste his skin with each gasping breath.

His hands span my ribcage, thumbs accidentally brushing the underside of my breasts as he steadies me.

The heat of his palms burns through my thin tunic.

I can feel every ridge of muscle beneath his shirt, the thundering of his heart against my cheek, the way his breathing has gone ragged.

His scent—clean sweat and his own personal smell—fills my lungs and makes me dizzy with want. One of his hands has tangled in my hair, the other is now splayed possessively across my lower back, fingers dangerously close to the curve of my ass.

“Are you hurt?” His voice is a rough whisper against my ear, sending shivers cascading through my body. I feel the vibration of his words through his chest, intimate as a caress.

“No,” I breathe, but make no move to separate. My hands are fisted in his tunic, and I can feel him trembling. Or maybe that’s me. The prohibited contact feels like drowning in fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

His thumb traces my cheekbone with devastating gentleness, checking for injury, and I have to bite back a moan. This is what I’ve been craving, what weeks of careful distance have denied us both—the simple, profound intimacy of touch.

Then reality crashes back. The Committee’s observer appears instantly, their crystalline form catching the afternoon light.

“Physical contact has occurred,” they intone. “Though protective in nature, a mark must be registered against your progress.”

We separate like we’ve been burned, both breathing hard. The loss of contact feels like a physical ache.

“This is your first mark,” the Committee member continues. “Two more mean failure. ”

The crowd has grown larger, some looking satisfied that we’ve been penalized, others appearing uncomfortable with the hostility they’ve witnessed. Three large males circle us with predatory intent.

“Perhaps you should shop elsewhere,” one suggests, hand resting meaningfully on his weapon. “Some places are for respectable citizens only.”

Part of me wants to see Aries unleash his gladiator skills on these bullies, but the stakes are too high now. Two more marks mean death.

“We’re just here to shop,” I say, my voice surprisingly strong.

The largest enforcer steps closer. “Pretty little thing to be defending a killer. Maybe you need someone to show you better options.”

A growl builds in Aries’ chest, his protective instincts clearly warring with the knowledge that any aggressive action could doom us both. Despite the dangerous circumstances, my mind is still focused on the phantom touch of his hands on my skin.

“I have all the options I need,” I tell the bully, surprised by how steady my voice sounds despite the chaos of emotions swirling through me. “And you’re blocking paying customers from this gentleman’s stall.”

The merchant shifts uncomfortably as other shoppers mutter. None intervene, but the crowd’s mood feels uncertain now.

“You heard the lady,” Aries says quietly, his voice carrying that dangerous edge I recognize from his fighting days. “We’re just here to shop.”

The bully’s hand tightens on his weapon. For a moment, violence feels inevitable. Then the Committee member emerges between us and our foes, their crystalline form impossible to ignore .

“Is there a problem?” Their layered voice carries a subtle threat.

Our tormentors step back, recognizing a higher authority. “No problem. Just keeping the peace.”

“Indeed.” The Committee member’s faceted eyes miss nothing. “Then you won’t mind if these two complete their shopping?”

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’s ludus have 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.”