Derrica is soft and kind and has big brown eyes; he can feel them on him without looking up from the flecks of serum dried stiff into his sheets.

Her prowess at the quintain aside, it is easy to see why Loxley is fond of her.

There’s a thread of obligation there.

Never mind the deal they made when they were last alone.

So he nods, no resentment to his acceptance. He’s laid up in this bed like a greasy piece of twine, in various states of unravelling end to end. All unkempt and with nowhere to go.