“I’ll lead the men into the armory,” Emery declared. “If I survive, I’ll take my place in the square with the men at the weak point of the line.”

Everyone nodded grimly.

Hadrian’s plan further called for the men to form two straight lines—one before the other—outside the armory and to purposely leave a gap as a weak point. Professional soldiers would look for this kind of vulnerability, so the rebels could predetermine where the attack would fall the hardest. He warned that the men stationed there would suffer the highest number of casualties, but it would also allow the townsfolk to fold the line and generate a devastating envelopment maneuver, which would best utilize their superior numbers.

“I’ll lead the left flank,” Arista said, and everyone looked at her, stunned.

“My lady,” Emery began, “you understand I hold you in the highest esteem, but a battle is no place for a woman and I would be sorely grieved should your life come into peril.”

“My life will be in peril no matter where I am, so I may as well be of some use. Besides, this is all my idea. I can’t stand by while all of you risk your own lives.”

“You need fear no shame,” Dr. Gerand told her. “You have already done more than we can hope to repay you for.”

“Nevertheless,” she said resolutely, “I’ll stand with the line.”

“Can you wield a sword too?” Perin the grocer asked. His tone was not mocking or sarcastic, but one of expectant amazement, as if he anticipated she would reply that she was a master sword fighter of some renown.

The miraculous survival of Emery was only one of the rallying points of the rebellion. Arista had overlooked the power of her own name. Emery pointed out that she and her brother were heroes to those wishing to fight the New Empire. Their victory over Percy Braga, immortalized in the traveling theater play, had inspired many throughout Apeladorn. All the recruiters had to do was whisper that Arista Essendon had come to Ratibor and that she had stolen Emery from death at the hands of the empire, and most people simply assumed victory was assured.

“Well,” she said, “I certainly have just as much experience as most of the merchants, farmers, and tradesmen that will be fighting alongside me.”

No one said anything for a long while, and then Emery stood up.

“Forgive me, Your Highness, but I cannot allow you to do this.”

Arista gave him a harsh, challenging stare and Emery’s face cringed, exposing that a mere unpleasant glance from her was enough to hurt him.

“And how do you plan to stop me?” she snapped, recalling all the times her father, brother, or even Count Pickering, had shooed her out of the council hall, insisting she would spend her time more productively with a needle in her hand.