Page 46 of Sanctuary and Spices
“Extraordinary,” a Pel’ax merchant declared, their delicate fins swaying as the aroma of the rolls drifted toward them. “The resonance with the garden enhances everything.”
I smiled politely, already reaching for the next order. My hands worked with practiced precision—chop, plate, garnish—but nothing about this felt routine. Energy hummed under my skin, heightening every movement, making them feel... connected, significant in a way I couldn’t describe.
Working beside Ronhar felt like dancing. His presence steadied me, a quiet strength at my back when the rush threatened to overwhelm.
“Two more orders of the rolled bao,” he murmured, stepping close to reach past me for fresh herbs.
The warmth of him brushed against me, his markings faintly glowing as his hand grazed mine. It wasn’t just touch—it was connection. A spark that left trails of heat across my skin, sinking deeper than I wanted to admit.
I should have been stressed. The crowds, the pressure, the constant demands—it was everything that had broken me at the Celestial Crown. But here, with Ronhar, I felt... alive. Electric. As if I could keep this pace forever.
“Your resonance patterns are fascinating,” a Krythari observer said, their antennae waving as they studied the preserved valthorn now glowing faintly on the plate.
“And did you see how the Jhyra respond when they work together?” another customer whispered nearby. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
I pretended not to hear, focusing on plating the next dish. But the words lingered. I couldn’t ignore the way the plants swayed toward us, their movements synchronized with the quiet chiming of the crystal formations around the booth.
His words from last night echoed in my mind: My mate.
What did that mean to a Devaali? And more importantly, what did I want it to mean?
“More ztar-spice for table four!” Pix’s voice rang out as they bounded past with a tray of floating serving dishes in tow.
I reached for the spice jar just as Ronhar did. Our fingers brushed, and this time, there was no ignoring the reaction. Light spiraled up both our arms, his markings flaring with an intensity that left my breath catching.
“Sorry,” I whispered, though I wasn’t. Not really.
His eyes met mine, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded. There was something in his gaze—something raw, unspoken, that made the energy humming between us feel almost unbearable.
“Jani—” he started, his voice low.
But before he could finish, the lights overhead flickered.
A sudden wave of heat washed over the booth, followed by a blast of cold air. The environmental barriers shimmered, their hum faltering.
A murmur of confusion rippled through the crowd. Customers coughed as the atmospheric conditions briefly merged, leaving the air thin and heavy.
“Pressure differential in sector three!” someone shouted. “Containment’s failing!”
I was already moving. The master control panel was at the edge of the booth, and Ronhar stayed close behind me as I reached it. Warning lights blinked in rapid succession—resonance patterns destabilizing, crystal matrices losing coherence.
“The backup systems aren’t engaging,” I said, my fingers flying over the controls. The readouts blurred in front of me, the patterns chaotic and unfamiliar. “It’s like something’s interfering with the frequencies...”
Ronhar stepped in behind me, his hands covering mine.
The moment his skin touched mine, power surged between us. My heart raced, and my skin tingled as his markings pulsed in time with the crystals around us.
“Focus,” he murmured, his voice steady. “Feel the patterns.”
I closed my eyes, letting his presence ground me. The hum of the station grew louder, aligning with something deeper—something that sang between Ronhar and me. My hands moved instinctively, guided by an energy I didn’t fully understand but trusted all the same.
The environmental barriers stabilized with an audible click. The warning lights faded, and the chaotic hum of the crowd shifted into murmurs of relief.
“Fascinating.”
I turned to see Lyrian standing at the edge of the booth, his golden skin catching the light from the crystals that surrounded us. His gaze was sharp, calculating, as it flicked between Ronhar, the control panel, and me.
“Do you understand what you just did?” Lyrian asked, his voice deceptively casual.
