Rosalind gave them a half-hearted glare out of the corner of her eye. “It’s not that I don’t want to…”
Mozke sighed. “I know.” They offered their elbow, tugging her along when she accepted. “The other humans are going to be fine. You can’t carry every burden on your tiny little shoulders and hope to have it all figured out overnight.”
She frowned, glancing to her shoulders. “They’re not that tiny.”
“And I’d add a delusional mind if I didn’t know you were so sleep deprived.” They patted her hand. “I left dinner simmering, and that’s the only detour you’re allowed to take before sleep. If you refuse, I’ll only quote your own contract that said the demon sponsor must provide a safe environment and care for the well-being of their human.”
Rosalind was grateful for them, really. Mozke worked in Culture’s offices, though their description of responsibilities ranged enough that she couldn’t really tell whether the demon reported directly to Argeth or was actually the demon who held the whole office together. Mozke had tagged along with the Horn of Culture that first day, arms loaded with clothing and supplies for the humans, and after taking one look at Rosalind, they had declared her their charge.
They pointed out shops along their walk—which demons would be less likely to respect her and those who wouldn’t care she was human. One direction was Heck Post, which would be useful if she needed to check in on Katarina and Brioni. She knew better than to ask after the apothecary where Aofe was, lest she be chastised for thinking of work, though she would do that first thing in the morning. Maybe she could scrounge up a scrap of paper and a quill to make a list when Mozke inevitably locked her in her room.
Eh, she’d remember it all.
Finally, the blue demon led her to a quaint street, rows of two-story homes lining both sides of the path. Indigo moss grew between the gray stone of the buildings, glittering with flowers she couldn’t name and glowing in bright blues and purples in the starlight. Streetlamps of rainbow-flickering flames illuminated a bright pink door.
Rosalind cocked a brow when they stopped.
“Can’t miss it,” Mozke said with a grin, grabbing Rosalind’s rune-cuffed hand and pressingit to the wood. “Press here for the lock, and…” A soft click vibrated against her palm. “There we go.”
Mozke swept into the entryway, letting Rosalind know she could take her time looking around while they got dinner served. Left alone, Rosalind turned her palm up to her face.
Magic. It was still something she wasn’t fully adjusted to. Seeing demons walking around with all manner of tails and horns and coloring? It almost felt normal. But the buzz of magic under her skin for the simplest of tasks?
That she might never stop marveling.
She pulled her sleeve back down over her wrist, hiding the silver bracelet that reminded her too much of the silver her sister used to wear.Stillwore, because of course her family had to be okay back in the human world. Missing her terribly and probably worried sick.
No, no. Rosalind pressed a hand to her heart as she hurried down the hall, willing it to settle again and giving her mind something else to focus on.
It didn’t surprise her that Mozke had excellent taste in interior decor, despite the obnoxious door. Walls were painted a cool gray, complemented by the blue-flickering lanterns dotting the walls and ceiling. She stepped out of the hallway and into the next room, a cozy gathering space with blue velvet furniture and dark wood tables to her left and the kitchen to her right.
“It’s so similar,” she muttered, shuffling over when Mozkepointed her to a seat at the tall table. “Not that I ever thought you lived in caves or tents without… utensils.”
Mozke set a spoon down alongside a steaming bowl they’d filled from the pot on the stove. “But you thought we lived in caves and tents without utensils?” they teased.
For the most part, Rosalind hadn’t thought much about the demons that lived in the Achreos Barrens. She didn’t have to. When she lived so deep in the city and in relative safety, there was rarely a time she even saw the edge of the forest.
Rosalind shrugged. “The magic is probably the most impressive. Had we left dinner simmering on the stove, the entire house would have burned down by the time we returned.”
“I’ll draw you a list of runes and what they do,” Mozke said, blowing on their dinner to cool it. “Because if you burn down my beautiful kitchen, I will never forgive you.”
Rosalind leaned down to smell the food. “So,” she said, dipping her spoon to stir the broth. “Where does this egg come from if you don’t have chickens?”
The meal was filled with Rosalind’s many questions, mostly food related when she took the first bite and nearly cried over how delicious it was. The bone broth was rich and warm, soothing so much of her worries as Mozke described all the ingredients.
Eventually, when Rosalind failed to scoop up the noodles with her spoon, they offered her bamboo sticks to pick up the floating garnishes—which were onlychallenging to use for the first few tries before she was once again shoveling food into her mouth.
“And you thoughtwewere the monsters,” Mozke said with a chuckle.
Rosalind pointed her utensil at them. “Thatis an unfair assumption. You cannot judge me for my behavior when it comes to food.”
“Says the human who needs to be reminded to eat because she gets so focused on work.” Their smirk turned into a full smile of sharp fangs. Rosalind didn’t blink, though her glare became less mocking. Mozke rolled their eyes. “Well, it’s a good thing I know all the best places for food around here, if I’m not making it myself.”
Perhaps that was the greatest blessing of being stuck in Heck—a sponsor who had no trouble feeding her.
Or maybe it was when they led her upstairs and showed her to her own room.
“Bed, bathing chamber that way—oh, you’re already in bed.” Mozke laughed when Rosalind simply fell face first onto the plush mattress and groaned. “Gods, at least pretend to be civilized.”
