“You said it yourself: my injuries were the least severe.” In fact, the wrist she was certain had been broken barely ached beyond the tremor from her panic, and a ghost pain in her ankle from a childhood injury was gone.
Shoving any lingering discomfort to the back of her mind, she leveled Balran with the best confidence she could manage. “The others. If we’re here to stay, we’ll need protections. Who can ensure our safety in Heck?”
The demon narrowed her eyes, but with a sigh, she untwisted her fingers and placed her hands on her hips. “Fine, human. I’ll bring him back inside, but first, I’m going to prepare you for what you’re going to find in this realm.”
1
PERFECTIONIST HUMAN
Rosalind
Rosalind closed the door behind her, pressing her back to the wood as she blinked into the light of the room. Magicdemonlight, flickering in sconces across the walls of the small office she’d commandeered for the last… who even knew how many days it had been. Probably just three, but when she was running on constant tea refills, sprints up and down hallways between meetings, and pure adrenaline with little sleep, it was hard to keep track.
She swallowed the desire to sink to the floor and curl into a ball. There were too many things left to do, papers to finalize, demons to talk to, and finances to get sorted.
Her legs dragged as she made her way to the desk against the opposite wall, slapping Kalypso’s file atop the surface before dropping into her seat. Katarina’s contract was still open, though she could now file that one alongside Brioni’s.Alamar did have the opening at the post, and considering getting Kat to talk was harder than getting a dog to pee in the middle of the night in freezing temperatures, a position with the most bubbly woman Rose had ever met could be a good balance.
Rosalind slumped in the chair, rubbing her eyes before she reached blindly for her tea. Cold and nearly empty, which was probably a sign she really should be wrapping up. But there were still so many threads left to tie off, and if she couldn’t help the other humans here, what good was she?
Kat’s file was put atop Brioni’s. All the proper signatures in the right places. Contracts ensuring safeties, with an addendum Rose was already crafting in her mind about transfers should something fall through. That was just another headache brewing behind her left eye when she considered her own contract with Argeth, the Horn of Culture. Sometimes she wondered if his enthusiasm for this initiative was only to make himself look good, becausehewasn’t still here going over sponsorships.
Then again, she was under no illusions that any of these demons truly cared about the humans’ well-being.
Except for Kizros, perhaps. She flipped through that one next, pausing at Aofe’s interview. The script slanted—smudged and wobbly—but was still legible and had an attention to detail Rosalind admired.
Kiz would care. She’d seen firsthand how attentive and kind he’d been when adjusting her own rune cuff, making sure it wasn’t too tight and that she didn’t have any adverseside effects. Maybe his over-attentiveness would provide some much-needed brightness for the blue-haired human who looked like she’d never asked for help in her life.
Sounded familiar.
Kalypso’s signature was still fresh, and though she hadn’t technically signed the contract—just aggressively stabbed the lines with her quill—it was official in the demons’ eyes. Rosalind would draft a new one for the woman once Balran determined the sorcery was clear of the large human’s system, just to make sure, but she imagined that sponsorship might be the most troublesome.
That, or Ember’s.
She glanced at the last file, no signatures required when the demons had decided her fate already. Rosalind had at least organized protection, but that came in the form of a giant red demon warrior who perhaps regretted saving the humans out in the Dreadmoor.
Guilt gnawed at Rosalind’s insides. She’d not seen Ember since the trial, though there were flashes of the woman in her foggy memories between then and now. Glimpses of the tiny human limp in the slaver’s cart, weak and unresponsive like the rest of them.
But there were memories ofbefore. Of Rosalind visiting that dank cell in Ankerick and nearly retching at the conditions Ember had been kept in. Of the brand stark against the woman’s skin. Of her dull, defeated posture as Rosalind fought against a judge who refused to listen.
It was Rose’s fault. If she had just gottenthere sooner, refused to entertain her parents’ concerns before accepting the case, fought harder…
She’d not done enough here, either. It didn’t matter how hard she’d worked on these contracts, set up better lives for the other women, argued with politicians. Nothing would make up for the guilt.
Because she wasn’t like them, was she?
The sisters who fled abuse and relied on one another to survive since childhood. The woman who spent her lifetime in a different form of slavery than what they’d been stolen for. The bouncy redhead—a crime family’s outcast—or the blue-haired sweetheart who has to fight every day just to make it out of bed.
Not Rosalind. She’d woken up with the sunshine, with a loving family, with food and money to take care of any needsandquite a few luxuries. That money had provided an education, which had led her to law, which had taught her how to use her voice.
Her mother had always spoken about her pure heart. Even when Rosalind thought it broken for the way it liked to play tricks with her mind, or vice versa, her family had always talked about it like a gift.
At least she could give away that gift. She might be an outsider among the women, just as she was an outsider with the demons, but she could do something with her mind and heart and feel as if she could protectsomeoneafter failing Ember.
“Oh, you look like shit.”
Rosalind jolted at the new voice, spine stiffening until she realized who stood at the door. “Mozke, you startled me.”
They cocked a brow, the silver piercing glinting against their pale blue skin. Today they wore a suit jacket that barely fell to their ribs, purple pants flaring at the knees. “I knocked. Like, five times.”
