Page 6 of Sanctuary and Spices (Tales of the Ardent Veil #1)

RONHAR

I eyed the silver pendant Soryn tapped—the mark of a bonded mercenary guild member. Mine stayed tucked beneath my collar, a reminder of past commitments rather than current obligations.

“Take her to Barou’s.” Not a request.

“Fine.” I agreed, surprised at how much I didn’t mind disrupting my usual evening routine. The prospect of showing her more of the station intrigued me in ways I wasn’t ready to examine. “Ready?”

Jani stood, the kitchen lights catching the dark waves of her hair. The Jhyra stretched toward her—temperamental flowers that rarely bloomed twice in one cycle. I couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly they seemed drawn to her, just as I was trying not to be.

“This way.” The garden’s humid air gave way to the cooler, recycled atmosphere of the station’s corridors. Evening on the Veil had its own particular character, one I’d long taken for granted but now saw through her eyes.

The Commons revealed its night personality as we emerged: bioluminescent lights strung between buildings, the soft chime of wind bells crafted by Krythari artisans, the rich scent of night- blooming jasmine from hydroponic gardens. A Lorvathan street musician played a crystalline instrument, its song harmonizing with the Veil’s faint hum. Nearby, dock workers gathered around a Myrathan storyteller, her gill-fins flashing with emotion as she wove her tale.

The market’s transformation for the evening was already underway. A Quarvik vendor juggled glowing fruit, haggling prices with a towering Ulthari. Two Reythrari merchants folded their wing-cloaks as they settled in for night trade, their stalls shimmering with fabrics that caught nonexistent breezes.

The scents washed over us: sweet smoke from a Pel’ax spice burner, the tang of crystal-fermented beverages, something impossibly like rain on warm stone. A young Syrithan darted gracefully through the crowd, offering samples from a tray of delicacies.

The Leyline-infused walkways brightened subtly as artificial lighting dimmed. Crystalline formations glowed softly, reflecting light in ways that made the corridors feel both expansive and intimate. Overhead, transport pods hummed along their tracks, while Flo-Lifts carried residents through shimmering energy fields.

“Watch your step here.” I caught her elbow as she stumbled on a lip between sections. The warmth of her skin startled me more than it should have. I let go quickly but reluctantly.

“Sorry.” She straightened, her composure intact despite the unfamiliar gravity. “Still getting used to station footing.”

I grunted, scanning the corridor out of habit. Three exits. Two maintenance hatches. Miners heading to the Forgeworks. No immediate threats, though plenty of eyes followed her striking figure.

“The Veil’s divided into rings,” I explained as we passed the massive support struts. “We’re in Havenstone now— a residential district. Barou’s is three levels down in?—”

“In what?” Her curious eyes met mine, pulling me out of the automatic tour guide routine.

“The older section,” I said, adjusting my stride. “Before they added the outer rings.”

We passed beneath a crystalline arch, the Leyline currents within it creating a faint resonance. She shivered, and I couldn’t help but notice.

“You feel that?” The question slipped out.

“The... energy thing? Yeah.” She waved vaguely. “Is that normal?”

“For some.” I kept my tone neutral, though the lights played across her face in a way I found distracting.

A Jeth child darted past with a glowing ball, and I shifted slightly, placing myself between her and the crowd. Professional reflex, I told myself.

“You don’t have to protect me,” she said, her tone teasing but knowing.

“Not protecting. Directing,” I replied, though the lie felt thin. “Crowds move differently here. Easy to get lost.”

Her soft hum suggested she wasn’t convinced, and I caught myself fighting a smile.

The crystalline formations grew denser as we descended, their glow casting intricate patterns across her features. I watched her take it all in with a mix of wonder and quiet awe. She turned to me suddenly, gesturing to my markings where they showed past my sleeves.

“Your markings,” she said. “They’re beautiful.”

The casual compliment threw me. My markings weren’t something I thought about often—not since I’d left behind the life they’d once symbolized. But the way she said it, without pretense or hesitation, unsettled me in a way I couldn’t name. I focused on navigating the next turn instead of responding, though her words lingered in my mind far longer than they should have.

“This way.” I led us down a narrower corridor, away from the main thoroughfare. The boarding house’s entrance appeared, marked by potted herbs and softly chiming wind bells. I pressed the call panel, and Barou’s face filled the screen.

“Bit late for visitors,” she rumbled.

“New tenant,” I said. “Soryn sent us.”

Her scales shifted from bronze to welcoming gold. “Ah, the new chef. Come up.”

The lift deposited us on the second floor. Barou waited, her prosthetic leg gleaming in the low light. “Welcome to my humble home,” she said warmly. “We’ll sort the paperwork tomorrow. For now, let’s get you settled.”

The room was small but clean, with a window overlooking the garden. A single potted Velthryn ivy sat on the desk, its leaves trembling as Jani approached.

“The plants,” she said softly, brushing a leaf with her fingertips. “They all react like this. Why?”

I should have left. Should have nodded politely and retreated. Instead, I watched the way she touched the plant—gentle, natural, as if she belonged here.

“They respond to energy,” I said. “Apparently yours calls to them.”

Her gaze met mine, curiosity sparking in her dark eyes. “Is that... normal?”

“No.” I kept my voice steady, though the low light made her features almost too easy to admire. “It’s not.”

Something passed between us in that moment—unspoken but undeniable. I stepped back, breaking the connection.

“Barou will help you settle in.” I headed for the door. “The café opens early.”

“—”

I nodded, already retreating. “Goodnight.”

The corridor felt quieter on the walk back, the familiar paths holding an unfamiliar weight. Just once, I glanced back. The door had closed, but her presence lingered, like a melody unresolved.

The garden’s Jhyra glowed faintly as I returned. They had bloomed twice today. Something was changing, and I had a feeling nothing would ever be quite the same again.