Lomin punctuated the inspection with a kick to the torso of Derega’s corpse. They searched the men and the saddlebags. When finished, they gathered the horses that had returned after the slaughter and led them to the stables. She found it difficult to come to terms with Derega’s betrayal. Had she and Kesta not saved him and Lomin, among other dregs, from lives on the Smear’s streets? Lives that would’ve seen them dead? And in exchange for that gift, this is how they repay us. She scowled at Derega’s body. If she was outside she might have spit on him. Lips quivering as the news the man had brought bore down on her, she rubbed at her eyes, determined not to cry. Unbidden tears streamed down her cheeks. She repeatedly saw Kesta’s smiling face, heard Gaston’s witty responses. She pictured her son riding one of his horses or delving into his books on Kasandar’s noble houses. She wished to have their favorite meals cooked for them—pumpkin pie for Gaston and yellowtail eel for Kesta—or to spend one last night in Kesta’s arms, inhaling his scent.
