Page 28 of Sanctuary and Spices
“Fascinating stuff.” Lyrian’s voice made me jump. He stood at the end of the aisle, examining us with entirely too much understanding. “The archives hold so many secrets, don’t they?”
I stepped away from Ronhar, my cheeks burning. “Do you know much about historical cooking techniques?”
“Some.” His perfect posture never wavered. “Though I suspect your interest runs deeper than mere academic curiosity.”
Before I could respond, Malik’s voice echoed from several rows over: “Found something!”
I turned back to Ronhar, but Lyrian was already striding toward Malik’s voice, leaving us alone in the shadowed aisle.
Crystal light played across ancient bindings as I reached for another promising volume. Ronhar’s hand covered mine on the spine.
“Jani.” His voice was rough as I turned to face him. The shadows softened his features as he leaned closer...
“Over here!” Malik’s voice called again, sharper this time. “There’s an entire section on crystal harmonics in food preparation!”
The space between us crackled with possibility. But Lyrian appeared at the end of the aisle, radiating amusement.
“History has a way of repeating itself,” he said cryptically. “Though sometimes with... interesting variations.”
I pulled away reluctantly, gathering the books we’d found. But all I could think about was Ronhar’s touch, the almost-kiss, the way the archives hummed around us with crystal energy and unspoken possibilities.
Malik began explaining storage systems and checkout procedures with a level of detail that would have been impressive if it weren’t so overwhelming. His amber eyes flicked to the books in my arms, his tone softening slightly. “The station has a way of revealing more than you expect. Just... make sure you’re ready for the answers.”
I blinked at the weight of his words, but before I could ask what he meant, he turned sharply and disappeared into the shadows, his tufted ears flicking once in farewell.
RONHAR
Light filtered through the garden’s crystal formations, casting shifting patterns across the soil. I knelt beside a patch of Jhyra, carefully examining their roots for any signs of stress. The scent of damp earth and blooming herbs wrapped around me, grounding me in this quiet ritual.
But the plants weren’t the only ones unsettled. They reached toward me, their faint glow brighter than usual, almost eager. It wasn’t the first time I’d noticed it. Ever since Jani arrived, the garden had been... different. Vibrant. Restless. Alive in a way that almost felt personal.
I brushed my fingers over a trembling blossom, and it pulsed faintly in response. My chest tightened. I couldn’t stop thinking about her—about the way she had smiled up at me yesterday in the archives, about the way her lips had felt against mine in the hidden market passage. I’d kissed her on impulse, but the memory had rooted itself deep, blooming in ways I couldn’t ignore.
The Jhyra seemed to hum, almost like they were laughing at me. “You’re not helping,” I muttered, adjusting their supports. My own markings betrayed me, glowing faintly brighter as the memory of our kiss played again in my mind. I’d crossed somany lines already. Professional distance was long gone. And yet...
“You’re up early,” Soryn’s voice cut through the quiet, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I didn’t turn around. “The plants needed attention.”
“Or maybe the gardener did,” he said, his tone carrying just enough amusement to make me glare over my shoulder. His bronze scales caught the light as he crouched beside me, his clawed fingers brushing the soil. “They’re thriving, Ronhar. But that’s not why you’re out here before dawn.”
I stayed silent, focusing on the Jhyra. Soryn’s amber eyes gleamed faintly as he stood. “Just... be careful. For both your sakes.”
His footsteps faded, leaving me alone with the plants and the memory of Jani’s touch. The Jhyra swayed toward me again, their glow pulsing softly in rhythm with something I didn’t quite understand. I exhaled, letting the steady hum of the garden settle over me.
But no matter how hard I tried to focus, one thought lingered, impossible to shake: I wanted to kiss her again.
I gathered fresh herbs with unsteady hands, trying to focus on the familiar motions. But my mind kept circling back to Jani - the curve of her smile, the way her eyes lit up when discussing recipes, how perfectly she fit against me...
The back door opened onto a wave of cooking aromas that made my markings pulse. Jani stood at the prep counter, directing morning setup with easy confidence.
“The pastries need another five minutes,” she told one of the kitchen staff. “And make sure the—” She broke off mid-sentence as she spotted me, color rising in her cheeks.
“Morning,” I managed.
Before she could respond, Pix bounded over. “Ronhar! Perfect timing! I’ve upgraded the herb storage unit!”
Horror crept through me as I took in the tangle of wires and crystals now festooning the previously simple storage cabinet. “What did you do?”
