Rosalind
“… A
nd if you note the projected numbers on page twenty-two,” Rosalind continued, the rustle of papers filling the council chamber, “you will see our future projects, budgetary limits, and ideal dates. All of which can be adjusted per their individual proposals, which are loosely summarized in the appendix.”
A couple more rustling papers and Rosalind allowed herself the briefest glance away from the crescent-shaped table where the nine Horns sat and reviewed her proposal. Mozke, sitting in one of the rows behind Argeth, held up their open notebook for her to see.
I’m obsessed with your brain.
Rose pinched her lips together to fight the proud smile she wanted to give. It wasn’t over yet.
“And if you note our second-to-last agenda item.” A scoffsounded to her left, but she ignored it. “The work Perennial Bloom has invested in the space is already becoming the heart of the art district. I do implore you to find some time to stroll through and see what beautiful blooms are already sprouting across the buildings. It seems the art district is just as enamored with its new apothecary as the alchemist is with his new home.”
Understatement. It was fuckingthrivingunder Kizros’s magic, and Rose had recognized the preference for blue as she’d done her final tour.
“This is all…” Councilor Fineril, the Horn of Arbitration, nodded at the copy of Rose’s proposal before lifting her head. “Incredibly thorough.”
Not exactly reassuring, but Rose didn’t know her as well as some of the others. Argeth had spoken highly of them all—most of them—but Fineril had not come up as a demon who might vote against Rosalind’s proposal.
She already knew, of the nine, two were likely to be the strongest voices of disagreement. The first, Tarzul, who had given up reading her packet after the first page, and Harrox, Horn of the Guard. He had at least skimmed, flipping to the appropriate page when asked, though never showing emotion, good or bad, at what she discussed.
He was another challenge entirely.
A clapping sound filled the quiet chamber, and Rose slid her gaze to the Horn of Finance who was leaned back so far in his seat in boredom, it was a wonder he didn’t tip right over.
“Well done, human, on collecting the most useless of data for your cute little project.” Tarzul slowed his clapping, sneer replacing his sarcastic smile. “As I tried to tell you, this was a waste of time. It’s been years since we cut funding here, and for good reason. All of this research and data proves what a chore the upkeep of a space so small and trivial to demon society will be.”
“A chore?” Rosalind bit back, taking the demon by surprise. Perhaps he’d believed that something without a tail or horns would have no spine, but right now, it was all she had. Because if she didn’t stand tall right now, she would crumble. She would remember that two days ago, she was watching the love of her life turn his back and walk away, leaving a hole in her soul where he was always meant to fit.
“Whatchoreis a labor of love? Of joy and happiness to oneself and to others?” She continued before he could cut her off. “When was the last time you stepped onto those streets? Any of you?” Her gaze shifted away from Tarzul, meeting the eyes of the most important demons in Heck, even the unnerving ones of the Horn of Rudiments, who had practically draped herself over her portion of the crescent table like she was desperate to insert herself into the drama.
“There’s a palpable magic there that you’ve missed between council meetings and fundraisers and parties. A joy in the air that can only be attributed to the demons living and working and dedicating their spare time to keeping that space alive. Days, nights, itdoesn’t matter. There’s music andlifeoutside these walls, outside work, and it’s just as important an experience as what we’re doing here.”
Rosalind pressed a hand to her chest, the words ringing clearer in her head than ever before.
“That place isn’t just the heart of Heck,” she whispered, maybe to the room. “It’s the soul.”
And she’d almost missed it. If Mozke hadn’t been there to drag her out of this fucking building, she never would have seen those streets. Never would have felt the joy woven into each stone of the buildings.
She never would have met Lazerath and Davarox.
Rosalind put on a smile, one that carried all her current pain but also the happiness she’d found. “A place like that is never a chore to take care of. It’s a place that should be nurtured, protected.”
The Horns were mostly silent, a few ducking their heads to return to their papers while some simply sat back with her words. It was hard not to squirm where she stood, but in her periphery, she caught the proud smile of the Horn of Culture.
So maybe if nothing more came from this, she’d at least earned Argeth’s respect.
Though she had a sneaking suspicion she’d already gotten it.
“Well,” Fineril began, turning to the next page in the packet without prompt. “You mentioned a final point?”
Most demons in the room turned their pages as well,though predictably, the male who hadn’t opened the proposal once had the loudest voice.
“I’m afraid no further point will convince me to vote anything but against this project,” Tarzul said, pushing his chair back. “Thank you for wasting my time?—”
“One moment, please,” Fineril said, holding a golden-flecked finger up in his direction.
A vein popped in Tarzul’s forehead at the dismissal, but then his eyes darted to the other councilors who had their noses all but pressed against the last pages in Rose’s proposal.
