Page 22 of Sanctuary and Spices (Tales of the Ardent Veil #1)
RONHAR
T he 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 or the 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!”
“Yet,” Soryn muttered under his breath.
Erynn trailed behind them, balancing an ornate teapot in one hand and a tray of delicate pastries in the other. Her purple-tinted hair caught the light, making her look effortlessly elegant as always.
“Thought you might need a pick-me-up,” she said, setting the teapot down with a flourish. “And I couldn’t resist bringing these. Fresh from the Eppersip’s ovens this morning.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” Jani said, accepting the pastries and flashing Erynn a grateful smile.
“Special delivery!” Pix announced, grabbing the tray and nearly tripping over a vine that had crept onto the floor.
“You’ve got quite the setup here,” Mai observed, her sharp eyes scanning the glowing plants and carefully arranged tasting displays. “The garden’s practically glowing.”
Jun smirked. “I’m not saying they’re in love with you two, but...”
“Focus,” Jani said, though her cheeks flushed ever so slightly.
Erynn leaned against one of the posts framing the booth, her gaze flicking between me and Jani. “You know, there’s a lot of talk about your booth already. Something about... unusual energy patterns?”
“Just the plants responding to the festival,” Jani said quickly, though her voice carried a hint of uncertainty.
Erynn raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. Instead, she poured herself a cup of tea, her expression entirely too knowing.
The rush returned in full force not long after, and the booth became a whirlwind of activity. Orders flew in faster than we could fill them, but Jani and I moved together like we’d been doing this for years.
“Three more dumplings for table five!” Pix called, darting past with a tray piled high with steaming bowls.
“On it,” Jani replied, her hands a blur as she plated another set of dumplings and added a garnish of Jhrya petals.
I worked beside her, preparing the next batch of crystal-spiced broth. The air around us thrummed with energy—not just from the crowd but from something deeper. The plants swayed in time with our movements, their glow brighter than ever.
“These flavors are unreal,” a customer said, their voice full of wonder. “It’s like you’ve bottled the festival itself.”
Jani glanced at me, her lips curving into a soft smile. “It’s the garden,” she said. “And teamwork.”
My markings brightened in response, though thankfully not enough to draw attention.
The rush slowed briefly in the late afternoon, giving us a rare moment to breathe. Jani leaned against the counter, wiping her hands on her apron as she surveyed the booth. Her hair had come loose in soft curls, framing her face in a way that made my chest ache.
“You’re incredible,” I said before I could stop myself.
She blinked, then smiled—soft and a little shy. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
I reached for her hand, hesitating for only a second before letting my fingers brush hers. The world around us fell away, the hum of the crowd fading as she turned to face me fully.
I caught her free hand, watching light spiral up both our arms. Everything clicked into perfect clarity—what she was to me, what we could be together.
“We need to talk,” I said quietly. “About what’s happening with the crystals. With us.”
She nodded, fingers tightening on mine. “After the next rush?”
“After.” I brought her hand to my lips, kissing her knuckles. “I promise I’ll explain everything.”
The plants swayed toward us, crystal formations chiming in harmony. The station’s very walls seemed to sing with the rightness of her in my arms, wearing my clothes, carrying traces of my scent. Mine, everything in me insisted. My mate.
Now I just had to find the words to tell her.