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Jenna was just eleven when she went into the mine, but she was wiry and strong, and healthier than most. Plus, she was too stubborn to die, and leave her da all alone.
    â€œKeep your head down, now,” Jenna said, when they parted at the crossroads at the bottom of the shaft.
    â€œKeep your head down,” Riley said back. It was a ritual with them, like a charm of protection before he trudged off, toward the deepest part of the mine. More and more, they’d put him on the coal face as a hewer, digging with a pick and shovel with the other men. By the end of the day he was so tired that he slept all the way home. He’d been in the mines for three years. He’d started when hewas a twelve-year, being big even then. The more often he worked the coal face, the more he coughed.
    When Jenna first went into the mine, Riley was a “hurrier”—he wore a leather strap around his waist and pulled heavy carts of coal up the ramp to the cage. Jenna worked as a “thruster,” pushing the carts from behind. Or sometimes as a “trapper,” opening trapdoors so the carts could rattle through. You had to look sharp if you were a trapper—if a cart came up and you weren’t ready, you’d get run over. Or you’d open up a trap, and the firedamp would roar out like a dragon and burn you right up.
    Jenna had a knack for knowing when firedamp was lurking behind the trap. It was like she could feel the seething heat of it, her heart beating with the pulse of the flame. Once, she pulled Maggi off right as she was about to open the trap. One of the bosses swung his club at her for slowing down production. Then he opened the trap and was charred to a crisp.
    People liked to work with Riley, because he was so strong that it made it easy on the thrusters, and he was always careful of the trappers, especially at the end of the shift, when everyone was tired.
    Riley also had a way of getting between the bosses and the lýtlings when they were handing out beatings. And showing up when this particular wormy-lipped guard tried to drag a little girl into a side tunnel. He didn’t say anything, he’d just be there until the guard let her go.
    The bosses didn’t like Riley because of what he said and did, and because the other miners looked up to him, even though he was only fifteen.
    Jenna was sorry that Riley was in the mine. At the same time, having him there made her life bearable.
    When the end of the shift finally came, they rode up in the cage together, holding hands. They walked out into the twilight, blinking like cave creatures, joining a jostling crowd of miners just outside.
    The wagons were not lined up as usual, but had been pulled over to one side. A tented pavilion had been set up a short distance from the mine, and the red hawk of Arden flew from the tent poles. There were armed soldiers everywhere—surrounding the pavilion and keeping a close watch on the collected miners. The soldiers wore black coats marked with the red hawk, too. The usual name for them was blackbirds.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Riley asked Brit Fletcher, who always seemed to know.
    â€œIt seems we’re about to hear some scummer from His Majesty, King Gerard.” Fletcher spat on the ground.
    â€œHe’s here?” Jenna shrank back a little. “What’s he doing here?”
    â€œIt seems that he and the missus are promenading around the empire, showing how they an’t scairt of a few Patriots.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œAn’t you heard? There’s been riots in Tamron Seat, and rebels took over the keep at Baston Bay a few months ago. Didn’t hold it long, but still. Word is that some of the thanes is getting restless ’cause they’re tired of war.” Fletcher smiled, like he approved.
    â€œShhh,” Riley said, glancing around. “Somebody might hear.”
    Fletcher made no secret that he hated the king of Arden. Some