The Rebels of Gold (Loom Saga #3)(92)

“The Ravens’ Guild has storerooms.”

“That have all been exhausted.”

“Fine.” Dove threw her hands into the air. “We shall move again. But we do it slowly, one group at a time.”

“No.” Florence shot down the idea immediately. “We take out all locomotives at once. We run them one after the other. And we move together, as one unit, safe and strong. That way, if the Dragons should take notice, they can’t find a way to block the lines and separate us on opposite ends of the continent.”

The room was silent for a long moment. Florence took silence to mean victory, and she turned to Helen and Will. She barely recognized her old friends now. They had gone off to be emissaries of the seedy underbelly of Loom and Florence had become the Vicar Revolver. She wished them well, but there would be little more than that between them as the years progressed—if the years progressed.

“Return to Garre with the requested manpower. Inform Willard, Ethel, and Arianna that we will be moving to Ter.3.2.”

“Not Garre?” Powell interrupted.

“No.” Florence shook her head and looked back to the edited schematics she and Arianna had been passing between them by way of Helen. “Garre needs to stay focused on making the Philosopher’s Box. We will set up in Ter.3.2, close enough that we are nothing more than a stone’s throw away and can exchange information, resources, and men with ease. But far enough that we can retrofit our own factories to make the guns. Are there any questions?”

Silence.

“No? Good. Let’s get to work.”





Coletta


She was particularly grateful for Ulia’s help in undoing the intricate clasping on the front of her jacket that night. Coletta wasn’t sure if her hands had ever felt so shaky, and it took all her focus to keep them even, her voice level.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Ulia asked as she slung the garment over her hand for proper cleaning. Even the girl, one of the most loyal among them, was nervous now. She had seen the refinery and the look on Doriv’s face when the pennon was discovered.

“No, leave.” Ulia hovered for a half second, debate written on her face. This was not the night to be insubordinate. But Coletta had every faith that she knew as much; whatever made her falter was of the utmost importance. “Yes?”

“It is perhaps nothing . . .” Ulia kept her eyes downcast. “I do not claim to know the greatness you weave nor would I ever dream of passing judgment—”

“Out with it.” Coletta had no patience for floundering. Ulia jumped at the unusual strength in Coletta’s voice.

“I noticed that Yeaan’s room has been empty for a few days now . . .I merely thought it odd that there has been no sign from her. I wondered, perhaps, if this ‘Queen of Wraiths’—”

“How long has it been?” Coletta interrupted, formulating her own theories. She had merely assumed Yeaan had been focused on the eradication of the flowers. But now that she thought of it, it had been some time since one of her more favorite flowers had come before her.

“Since I last saw her . . . a month, maybe more?” Ulia shook her head. “I apologize, my lady, it’s merely an estimate.”

“You did well to tell me.” Coletta forced out the praise. Taking out aggressions on her most loyal for the faults of others was a very certain way to lose that loyalty. “Now, get out.”

“Yes.” This time, Ulia did depart.

There was truly no rest for the weary. Before Coletta even had a breath to think about Yeaan and the last update she had received on the Flowers of Agendi, another invaded her space.

“Coletta!” Yveun roared.

“I am here.” She kept her voice calm, almost monotonous. One of them had to keep it together.

“What happened?” It was such an odd sight to see Yveun in her chambers that Coletta almost overlooked the fact that he was pacing like a wild animal newly freed from its cage. “Everything with the Tam’Oji goes well and then, just as they depart, Doriv’Ryu offers me her condolences for our loss? That there is no gold?” He stopped, and squared off against her. “You assured me there would be gold.”

“There was.”

“Then what—”

“It was stolen.”

“Stolen?” Had someone told Coletta what she was currently telling Yveun, her reaction would’ve been much the same. “Who would dare?”

“The Queen of Wraiths.”

Emotions swept across his face, one after the next, swirling until they reached peak speeds, turning the Dono into a twister that was prepared to kill everything in its path. “Queen of Wraiths? I told you that Arianna was dangerous. I told you she was the one we needed to hunt.” Yveun drew a finger like a Fenthri gun, casting it at her. “You cautioned against it, sent Fae to Xin. Now see what it has wrought.”

Coletta’s mouth twitched and she fought to keep her face passive. It was hard to say if Yveun was right, but she also couldn’t assert that he was wrong.

“These are unfortunate events, but—”

“But? But? We are thwarted at every turn on Loom.” Yveun snarled out some nasty series of words and set to pacing once more. “Even on Ruana, we are struggling to hold Napole on resolve alone. Our men are dying of skirmishes in the night, or of boredom.”