The Rebels of Gold (Loom Saga #3)(98)

“Where are you off to?”

“Train’s almost stopped.” Florence looked out their small window. The platform had begun to creep along the sides of the train. They were made of metal and wood, which echoed the architecture of a small town in the distance. Florence saw the marked smokestacks of a refinery and other buildings she didn’t recognize.

Arianna’s home.

It was Florence’s first time laying eyes on a proper establishment of Ter.3, and she wondered how different it was from when Arianna was a girl.

“I’ll need you to whisper to Arianna,” Florence spoke as she adjusted her holster. “Let her know we made it to 3.2.”

Shannra’s mouth pressed together slightly. The woman was good at a great many things, but hiding her emotions from Florence was not one of them. It was as if Shannra could see through her, straight to that never-quite-defined aspect of her relationship with Arianna.

“Anything else you’d like me to tell her?” Shannra began moving for her clothes.

“No, that should be enough.” Florence grabbed her top hat, the final piece of her ensemble. She hoped Arianna would have more to say to her—updates on the Philosopher’s Boxes, suggestions for training, a remark on her cleverness for bringing all of Loom south . . . something.

“As you command, Vicar Florence.” Shannra raised her hand to her ear.

Florence snatched the appendage by the wrist, quickly bringing it up to press a kiss against Shannra’s knuckles. She searched the other woman’s eyes. She wanted to offer reassurances, but she didn’t quite know for what.

“Thank you, lovely,” Florence whispered against Shannra’s flesh.

Just like that, her steely eyes eased to wool-soft. “Anything for you, you know.”

“Careful on what you offer me . . . I just may take it,” she cautioned.

“I hope you do.” Florence gave a small smile and moved away. Shannra added, “All of you.”

Florence merely nodded, adjusted her hat, and left. She heard Shannra’s meaning more clearly than she would’ve liked, but wasn’t inclined to address it. Not yet. There was always tomorrow. For now, she had more important things to focus on than pesky matters of the heart.

For now, she had Loom.

Florence stepped off the yet-moving train, one of the first on the platform. Shannra was right; it had been too long since they had proper fresh air. Florence filled her lungs as if for the first time and relished the filtered sunlight of aboveground Loom. She hoped she had seen the last of the Underground.

After all, she was the Vicar Revolver now. Holx wasn’t, and had never been, a place for her.

“Vicar Florence.” She shouldn’t have been surprised when Dove addressed her; the Vicar Raven would be the other to disembark first. Florence fell into step with the woman as they migrated toward the exit. “I trust your ride was good?”

“The Ravens do an excellent job of maintaining their trains, Vicar.”

“They do indeed.” Dove was completely oblivious that Florence’s compliment held more than a bit of irony. “We should have more than enough coal here to see the rest of the way to Garre, a few routes between . . .”

Dove tried the door of the station master’s office. When the handle didn’t budge, she didn’t even blink, smashing through the window with her pistol and reaching around to unlock it. She descended on the quarters as if she owned them, deftly locating the primary ledger for the station.

“How does it look?” Florence asked.

“More than enough coal . . . Should be a gold storehouse here, too, if I’m not mistaken. Perhaps we could even outfit one engine to focus more on magic and alleviate some of the draw on the resources.”

“It’d certainly relieve Powell.” Florence looked through the open door back out to the platform, seeing the man in question disembark.

“Anything to quiet him about draining resources,” Dove muttered. Florence chose to ignore the remark. She’d seen just how impressive the Harvester’s work to manage resources was.

“I’ll whisper to Garre, have Arianna speak with Willard about outfitting the next train.”

“And I’ll look into that storehouse of gold.”

Florence said nothing about the copied ledger she still had in her possession. Dove was almost too good at her job, remembering with ease where every outpost for the Ravens was along their trade routes. Plus, if Dove had concealed the state of their coal reserves, Florence could only imagine how she would handle gold. Thus, she kept the means to verify the Vicar Raven to herself.

“I trust you both had a smooth journey?” Powell asked as he joined them, referencing the last time they had spoken on the train a day ago.

“Indeed.” Dove closed up the ledger and pushed past the Vicar Harvester. “If you’ll both excuse me, I’m going to see to the state of our engines and manage my Ravens.”

“Oh, right, very well . . .” Powell was left muttering to a woman who was already out of hearing range. “I don’t think she likes me very much,” he observed quietly to Florence.

“We don’t have to like each other. We merely need to be effective.” Florence shrugged and started for the door as well.

“Effective, huh? You like me though, don’t you, Florence?”