Page 21 of Sanctuary and Spices

“Thank you,” she said. “For dinner. And for caring enough to worry.”

“Thank you for not holding the hug against me.”

Her smile hit me in the chest. “Who says I’m not?”

Before I could answer, the door burst open. Pix bounced out, trailing cables and glowing components.

“Jani! Perfect timing! I’ve almost got the quantum harmonics stabilized for the new cooking system. Just need to test the resonance patterns...”

A small explosion punctuated the sentence. Smoke curled from one of the components.

“Maybe tomorrow?” Jani suggested gently, suppressing a laugh.

“Oh! Oh, right.” Pix looked between us. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to interrupt anything!”

The door slid shut behind them. Jani shook her head, still laughing softly.

“I should go check the garden before sleep,” I said, reluctant to leave.

“Right.” She touched my arm briefly, her fingers lingering. “Goodnight, Ronhar.”

“Goodnight.”

I walked away slowly, my markings still glowing from her touch. The garden could wait until morning.

The café’s early cycle brought its usual quiet energy. I checked the most sensitive plants first, noting how they turned toward the kitchen as Jani moved through her morning routine.

The Khiul sisters arrived as we finished basic prep, their feathers catching light as they entered. The Reythrari twins had been traveling, missing Jani’s arrival at both café and boarding house.

“New spice blends!” Mai announced, spreading sample containers across the prep counter.

Jun circled Jani with bright interest. “So you’re the one everyone’s talking about!”

“The one who made the garden grow brighter,” Mai added.

“The one who had Ronhar hunting the station yesterday...” Jun’s feathers rippled with amusement.

“Supplies,” I corrected. “I was looking for supplies.”

“Of course you were.” The twins exchanged knowing looks. “Nothing at all to do with growing protective over pretty chefs.”

Jani buried herself in examining the spice samples, but I caught her small smile. And just like that, warmth curled in my chest again.

JANI

Iflipped through my grandmother’s worn cookbook, breathing in the lingering scents of spices that clung to its pages. The café’s kitchen felt different during the night cycle—quieter, more intimate. Only the soft hum of environmental systems and the crystal formations’ glow broke the stillness.

“Your grandmother’s recipes?” Ronhar’s deep voice made me jump. I hadn’t heard him enter from the garden.

“Yes.” I exhaled, pressing a hand to my chest. “I thought some of her blends might work well with your herbs for the festival.” I touched one particularly stained page. “This one used to draw crowds at the night market back home.”

He moved closer, reading over my shoulder, the heat of him noticeable even in the cool kitchen. The markings on his skin cast shifting patterns across the weathered paper, mesmerizing in their movement.

“What are these characters?”

“Traditional Chinese. My grandmother refused to convert her notes to Trade Standard.” I smiled at the memory. “Said the old writing held the soul of the dish.”

“Smart woman.” His fingers brushed mine as he turned the page, sending a spark through me. “These measurements... they’re imprecise.”

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