of his eyes. We were only two threads in the tapestry.
He reached the ninth floor, the tunnels that backed the Queen’s Wing, and shambled through them, nearly breaking his leg in his haste. When he reached the hidden door that accessed the guard quarters, he opened it and found Coryn, Dyer, Elston, and Kibb. All four were off duty, sitting down at poker, and they stared at him in silence, taking in his red-spattered appearance with wide eyes.
“Help me,” Christian pleaded, holding out his hands in a bloody appeal. He had meant to keep his life, his true life, separate from these topside men. He had meant to keep himself apart, but the children upstairs outweighed pride, solitude . . . even contempt.
“I need help,” Christian repeated.
The four guards stared at him for another long moment, then put down their cards.
Chapter 28
THE LESSON OF LADY GLYNN
The Almont rebellion might have died quickly, but serendipity saved it. The Blue Horizon had already made significant inroads in the Almont, and volunteers sprung up in every village. The rebels took castles in good proximity to the Mort Road, and as they headed west, toward New London, more and more nobles began to withdraw before them, pulling their retainers and taking flight for city residences. These nobles left behind significant provisions, which sustained the rebels through the worst months of winter, allowing them to survive the starvation that plagued the rest of the Almont. But Aislinn Martin was not content with survival; she wanted equality and redress. Thus did rebellion roll steadily onward, toward revolution.
—Out of Famine: The Almont Uprising, Alla Benedict
Have you thought of what you will say?” the Fetch asked.
“Say?” Aislinn returned absently. She was looking over an inventory of Lord Marshall’s stores, but it was a painstaking process; she was not a good reader. They had taken the Marshall manse more than a week before, but there were not enough hours in the day to sort everything out. Lord Marshall’s stores were significantly depleted; he had been far less stingy with his tenants than had Lady Andrews. Aislinn felt a brief pang of regret; if she had only known, she might have let Marshall go. But it was too late now, for his head was already on its way to the Keep. Marshall’s hoarded supplies would barely be enough to see Aislinn’s people to New London; they would have to keep a tight belt. The Fetch’s voice broke in again, annoying her.
“Have you thought of what happens when you stand before Elyssa, alone, without your people behind you?”
“I will demand justice.”
“And what does justice look like?” he asked. “Distribution of the stores?”
“That, certainly. But the Crown’s food will only hold us for a single winter. We need something more sustainable. We need land. Land of our very own, with no quotas or bailiffs. Our work should belong to us.”
The Fetch laughed, and Aislinn looked up at him, annoyed. She was the leader here, the Fetch but a guest, but one would never know it from his attitude. His mask, a dreadful mixture of harlequin and devil, no longer frightened her, but it still seemed to mock.
“The Blue Horizon has been agitating for the same thing since before you were born,” he told her. “We’ve gotten nowhere. The power of coin is too strong.”
“You don’t have enough people.”
“You are very young, Aislinn. You see only your half of things, how wonderful it would be to own what you farm. Have you ever heard of a noblewoman named Lady Glynn?”
Aislinn thought for a moment. The name was distantly familiar, but she could not put her finger on it. She shook her head.
“She was Queen Arla’s closest friend. A lifelong friend, so trusted that Arla even brought her in to tutor Elyssa when she was young. But Lady Glynn was no noble. She was one of us.”
“Blue Horizon?”
“Yes. And though I cautioned her that we must work gradually, she would not wait. She did what you propose. Five years ago, she freed all her tenants, forgave all their debt, and then took the final, unforgivable step of divvying up her family acres among them. She dismantled her own seat.”
“A brave woman,” Aislinn remarked, though she sensed where this story was heading. “And then?”
“Queen Arla was so furious at Lady Glynn that she stripped her of her title and threw her out of court. The lady hasn’t been seen since. Lady Glynn’s neighbors took it as a clear signal that the Queen would not protect