His mother's death was ennobled by the sacrifice she had made but the men who had killed her, no matter how great or powerful or dangerous they were, were gutter scum. Only the lowest of men would knowingly kill for the right to foist addictive poison on poor, desperate people. She wasn't sure exactly what to think of Father, but he was a different sort of man than that. He had a strange sense of scruple with his ruthlessness.

She nodded quietly as he told her. She didn't look away when his words trailed into meaninglessness. "Yes." She murmured softly. "That."