Chapter ThirteenI woke up in my oversized Lonsdale bed, undressed, with my throat sore from screaming. There was a jug of water with an empty glass beside my bed, and I drank greedily.
Miss Venture was right twice over. I couldn’t go back to prison. And there was another way to save Melbourne, after all.
I dressed hastily, choosing iron for my corset, for strength. It would help me travel quickly, live on less food and water, and if I was shot again it would help me survive. I was about to become what Mr Dickens thought I was: a rebel leader and outlaw, setting myself up against the authority of crown and country.
The invasion was happening, whether I liked it or not. But I could draw it away into a place of my choosing, and let those who wanted to fight with me carry that battle away f
