Page 44 of Sanctuary and Spices
“Did you see the environmental bubbles?” Pix asked, practically bouncing as they pointed toward a section of the square. “Localized climate zones! They’re using field generators to maintain separate conditions for different species—no barriers needed!”
“Fascinating.” I tried to sound invested while mentally calculating how long it would take to set up our booth. “Help me unload these containers?”
“I’ll handle the garden transfers,” Ronhar said, already moving toward the edge of the garden where some tasting displays were set up. The plants seemed eager to settle into their temporary arrangements, their leaves stretching toward him as he carefully positioned each one.
I focused on arranging the cooking station, though my attention kept drifting to Ronhar. His markings gleamed faintly in the festival light, and I couldn’t help but marvel at how natural he looked here—like the garden and the festival had grown around him, rather than the other way around.
The crystal formations positioned near our booth chimed softly, their resonance shifting whenever Ronhar and I moved in sync. I pretended not to notice how the plants seemed to sway in response to us, their energy quietly acknowledging the connection I still wasn’t sure I was ready to name.
We had work to do. The festival opened in hours, and there were still sauces to arrange, petals to garnish, and countlesslogistical details to finalize. I couldn’t let myself get distracted by the way Ronhar’s shirt still carried his scent, or how his eyes followed me when he thought I wasn’t looking.
But maybe, just maybe, I could steal another kiss once everything was set up.
RONHAR
The festival promenade, alive with color and sound, stretched out before us, but I couldn’t take my eyes away from Jani. She directed the staff with practiced efficiency, her voice calm yet commanding as she moved between the cooking station and the garden displays.
She still wore the traditional Devaali blues from this morning, the fabric catching the light like captured stars. Pride swelled in my chest at the sight of her wrapped in my culture, seamlessly blending into this world we were building together. For a moment, I forgot about the busy festival grounds around us.
“The cooling units need recalibrating,” she called, checking a readout on one of the Leyline-powered food storage containers. Then, with a glance over her shoulder: “Pix, can you?—”
“No experiments!” Three voices answered in unison—mine, Soryn’s, and even Erynn’s from somewhere near the tea stand.
Jani laughed, the sound washing over me and warming my markings. “Fine. Standard settings only.”
The plants responded to her laughter, their leaves swaying toward her like sunflowers tracking the sun. More dramatically than usual—perhaps affected by the energy of the festival orthe traditional bonding ceremony taking place nearby. I felt the resonance in my markings, an ancient stirring deep in my blood that I couldn’t ignore.
“These Jhyra won’t stop growing,” Soryn muttered behind me, trying to contain a vine that had begun curling around the edge of our booth. “I’ve never seen them this active.”
Because they sensed the mate-bond forming, though I hadn’t found the right way—or the courage—to explain that to Jani yet. How did you tell someone they were triggering your people’s deepest instincts? That every brush of her hand against mine made my markings flare because my very cells recognized her as mine?
“They like her,” I said instead, adjusting one of the supports to keep the vines from overtaking the walkway.
“Like is an understatement,” Soryn replied, his sharp gaze shifting between me and Jani. “The whole garden’s practically singing.”
He wasn’t wrong. The plants had woven their way into arches above us, creating a natural canopy that shaded our booth. Their movements synchronized with the soft chiming of nearby crystal formations, as though everything in the garden was reaching toward the connection building between Jani and me, even if she didn’t fully understand it yet.
Crowds of humans, Aurenai, Pel’ax, and dozens of other species flooded into the festival square, their voices blending into the melodic hum of the celebration. Glowing pathways wove through the garden and the Promenade, guiding guests between booths and tasting stations. The Wanderer’s Rest sat at the heart of it all, its garden spilling into the square like a living centerpiece.
“Here we go,” Jani murmured, straightening her borrowed shirt—no, my shirt. The sight of her in my clothes sent another wave of possessive warmth through me.
The first rush hit like a tidal wave. I positioned myself between Jani and the crush of bodies, noting how the garden’s new growth created natural barriers around our booth. Convenient, I thought, as vines curled protectively near the edges of the display.
“Two orders of crystal-spiced dumplings,” a Pel’ax merchant called. “And whatever made that incredible smell.”
“Valthorn preserves with mora leaves,” Jani answered, already plating. “Enhanced by garden resonance.”
She passed me ingredients as she worked, our fingers brushing. Sparks raced along my markings with every touch. The preserves glowed faintly where we’d both handled them, their soft light drawing appreciative murmurs from the growing crowd.
“These flavors are extraordinary,” a Krythari vendor observed, their delicate antennae waving as they leaned closer to the display. “How did you achieve this harmonic balance?”
“Trade secret,” I replied, steadying a tray as Jani added final garnishes. The real secret was how everything we prepared together seemed to carry traces of our developing bond. The station’s background hum shifted subtly whenever we moved in sync, like the garden and the café themselves recognized us as one.
Before I could dwell on the thought, familiar voices cut through the noise.
“Where’s our favorite chef?” Jun called, striding toward the booth with her feathers shimmering in the sunlight. She carried a bag overflowing with vibrant spices, with Mai close on her heels.
Pix popped out from behind the counter, waving excitedly. “We’re right here! And guess what? I didn’t blow anything up today!”
