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“Apparently.”

Before either of them could say more, Daren Pell approached with a younger human woman beside him.

“This is Ena.”

The woman looked exhausted rather than ill. Her dark blond hair had been cut unevenly near her jaw, and chemical burns marked several fingertips.

“She hasn't eaten since the drop,” Pell said.

Ena's gaze remained fixed on Kesta's wrist.

“They said claimed women get full rations.”

Kesta shook her head. “They lied.”

“They said you sleep with the commander.”

Dreven's brows rose. Kesta closed her eyes briefly.

“They lied about that too.”

Ena looked between them, mortified. Dreven's mouth twitched. Kesta ignored him.

“What work did you do before transport?”

Ena's shoulders sagged. “Textile dye plant.”

“Chemical vats?”

“Yes.”

“Mixtures?”

“Yes.”

“Contamination control?”

The woman blinked.

“Every shift.”

Kesta pointed toward the condenser district. “Tavi needs someone who understands solvents and chemical damage.”

“I do not need supervision,” Tavi protested.

Kesta looked at him.

“You store screws in your mouth.”

“They are clean screws.”

For the first time, Ena smiled. Small. Uncertain. But real. Kesta wrote a recommendation for Pela. When Ena walked away, her shoulders were a little straighter. Across the market, a horn sounded. Conversation died almost immediately. Sera stepped out from beneath the awning. Her expression changed when she looked toward the eastern gate.

“Red Basin.”

A new caravan entered beneath bone-colored banners. Its guards wore pale armor and moved with the practiced confidence of people accustomed to being watched. At their center walked a broad-shouldered Kharovian male with one horn broken close to the skull. He did not look at Dreven first. He looked directly at Kesta. Then at the copper markings around her wrist. Recognition appeared in his smile. Not surprise. Recognition. Beside her, Dreven went very still. Kesta felt the change without looking at him.

“Rath?” she asked.