Page 6 of Sanctuary and Spices
The morning crowd drifted into Havenstone Commons: merchants from the upper rings, crystal miners heading to the Forgeworks, scholars from the Ilexis Ring, their robes still dusty from the archives. Each slowed as they passed the garden’s glass walls, drawn by the scent of real cooking—a rarity, even here on Ardent Veil.
Through the kitchen windows, I noticed Jani’s movements growing surer as she helped plate the first morning orders. Her fatigue seemed to lighten as the rhythm of work claimed her. She was clearly in her element.
“Need more herbs,” Soryn called out.
Jani reached for the teyrith, her fingers moving with practiced care.
“Not too much,” she murmured. “The oils intensify with heat.”
Soryn’s hand froze briefly over the grill. “You know your way around these?”
“Three years on deep space routes.” She didn’t look up as she carefully harvested. “Had to learn fast when standard Earth varieties wouldn’t grow in the hydroponics bay.”
Her precision caught my attention. The way she handled the plants spoke of experience—not just knowledge, but respect. The crystal vines chimed softly as she passed, their bell-shaped flowers tracking her motion. Normally, they ignored everyone but me.
“Interesting,” Soryn commented quietly.
“She has good technique,” I replied, returning to my pruning.
“More than that,” Soryn said with a knowing edge. “The plants see it too.”
The breakfast rush surged and receded, conversations blending into the background. Jani’s confidence grew with each passing hour, her motions efficient and sure despite the occasional shadow of doubt in her gaze.
A brief lull gave her a chance to lean against the counter, her hands braced lightly against its edge.
“You’ve got good instincts,” Soryn said. “Know your way around both produce and protein.”
“I should,” she replied, her tone edged with bitterness. “Spent ten years learning everything there was to know about fine dining. Fat lot of good it did me.”
The plants nearest her shifted faintly. I adjusted the nutrient flow, using the task to avoid interrupting their conversation.
“Knowledge is never wasted,” Soryn said after a moment. “Just needs the right place to grow.”
Her laugh was short but not entirely devoid of humor. “Is that your subtle way of offering me a job?”
“Nothing subtle about it,” Soryn replied, gesturing to his prosthetic arm. “Could use someone who knows their way around a kitchen and a garden.”
Jani hesitated, her gaze drifting toward the garden. Something shifted in her expression—a flicker of longing, maybe, or recognition. Her fingers brushed the edge of the counter, gripping it lightly, as if grounding herself.
“I—” she began, then paused. “I don’t know if I can.”
“We all have our stories,” Soryn said. “What matters is what we choose to do next.”
Her expression lightened, the hint of hope returning. She straightened, turning back to the kitchen.
“Time for lunch prep,” Soryn announced. “You in?”
Jani’s gaze lingered on the garden for a moment, the weight of the decision evident. Then she nodded. “Yes. I’m in.”
There was a certainty there, one that surprised me. Whatever had been holding her back, she’d just decided to let it go.
The crystal vines chimed faintly, their response almost... approving. As she moved to the prep station, I found my attention caught by the way her determination radiated through her movements. There was a quiet confidence to her, something that stirred an unexpected warmth in my chest.
I turned back to my plants, pretending not to notice the faint smile tugging at my lips. Curiosity, I told myself. Nothing more.
I’d never been good at lying to myself.
JANI
