The Rebels of Gold (Loom Saga #3)(86)

“We are far from a quorum.” Emma glanced uncertainly at the room. “I will vote for myself.”

“As will I.” Bernard side-eyed the woman who was now his competitor. “Perhaps the other vicars can help break the tie.”

“I’m not sure I’m qualified.” Leave it to the Vicar Alchemist to retreat from the world and its decisions.

“I cast my vote for Florence.” Her ears rang as though Powell’s words were gunshot.

“What?” Dove squinted her eyes at the Vicar Harvester.

“She is strong because she has learned from many guilds. She is what Loom is working to return to, and what students should strive to be—better versions of themselves through the acquisition of knowledge.”

“There’s no precedent for this,” Ethel cautioned.

“There’s no precedent for living in the Underground either.” Dove shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. She sighed heavily. “I vote for her, too.” The Vicar Raven looked to the two shocked Revolvers. “Nothing personal, I just already have a rapport with the girl and I hate getting to know new people.”

“Do you think the Revolvers would support it?” Ethel was the only one focused on how the guild would receive the news.

“We haven’t even heard yet if Florence supports it.” Bernard crossed his arms and looked to her.

Florence wondered if she stared down another Gregory, another powerful man who saw her as less because of her age and experience and tutelage. Even if he wasn’t, there would always be people like Gregory, seeking to undermine her at every turn.

Florence looked back to Powell. He had risen in an unconventional way as well, and she had witnessed it. Now, she wanted to show him that he had made the right choice in saving her from the wreckage of Ter.1. She wanted to make her life mean something.

“I support it,” she affirmed.

“How do you think you can lead the Revolvers without ever truly being one?” Emma asked skeptically.

It’s not an outright no, Florence thought hopefully. “Respectfully, I have been a Revolver from the day I was born.”

The room went silent. Florence wondered if she should say something more, but she let those gathered chew over their own thoughts. It gave her time as well, to think about the position she was about to put herself in. The more she considered, the less afraid she became.

“I change my vote, and cast my support for Florence.”

“What?” Bernard gaped at his counterpart.

“She did something the last vicar couldn’t do. You saw the gun.”

“That’s not reason enough to make someone a vicar!”

“She did something more than that,” Powell interjected. “She united Loom.” The Vicar Harvester held up his hand, drawing a circle in the air around his palm. “Five guilds, once separate like fingers, united once more as a singular entity.” He curled his hand into a fist.

The five guilds of Loom—Florence had always imagined them like one great chain, but perhaps they were more like a hand. They could move separately, but their strength came from banding together, from seeing that they were one unified force.

“I support her.” Vicar Ethel finally made up her mind. All eyes fell to Bernard.

“I’m outvoted.” He shrugged. “My opinion hardly matters.”

“It matters to me.” Florence waited to continue until she was sure the whole of his attention was on her. “You are one of only two masters. I will need your help, leadership, and insight. I will not take up this mantle surrounded by bad blood.”

He squinted at her, and Florence wondered what he was searching for. She knew nothing about the man, so she didn’t know what to portray. Even if she did, she was too tired to fabricate anything.

“Had it been you and Gregory alone and you knew his gun was defective, would you still have tried to warn him?”

“Yes.” Despite her honest answer, Bernard’s eyebrows rose and he looked even more skeptical. “He was the Vicar Revolver. I would have tried to save his life even if it meant pointing out his mistake.”

“And if he still didn’t listen?”

“Then I would have let him die. As the Vicar Revolver, he must be held responsible for his own mistakes, even if they cost his life.”

“And you? Will we hold you accountable with your life?”

“I would have it no other way.” A bit of her Raven shone through, and Florence smiled wildly. “Isn’t that the way of the Revolver? Taking life in your hands and accepting what happens if you drop it?”

Bernard continued to scrutinize her, but finally gave a nod and left the room. On his way out, he said, “You have my support.”

There was a gravity to the way the door clicked closed. It was as if the matter was deemed finished before Florence had even wrapped her mind around it. Had that really just happened?

“Let us hold a tribunal tomorrow, when you’re feeling stronger,” Powell suggested. “We need to go over the status of the Philosopher’s Boxes and how we can manufacture your guns, in addition.”

“Right. Send me Shannra.” Florence tried to keep her voice strong. She felt a tempest of emotions, but none of them was hesitation at being named the Vicar Revolver. “She can whisper to Arianna for me.”