The ship pulled smoothly into the river harbor at Kerameikos Fort. Seeing the signs of destruction sent Jude’s heart buzzing in his chest.
The Temple of the Prophets still stood, a rotunda perched over a cascade of waterfalls, but half of its exterior wall had crumbled. Some of the gates seemed to have been damaged in the siege, but most of the structures, with their delicate, vinelike pillars and rails, were still intact.
It was decided that the others would remain on the ship with Hassan’s countrywoman, Khepri, to protect them. Hector had insisted on disembarking with Jude, refusing to let him bear the brunt of the Order’s ire alone. Jude hadn’t had the strength to refuse the offer, particularly after the grueling argument he’d had with Anton over whether he would be coming with Jude.
“We have no idea who’s taken charge of the fort,” Jude had said. “We don’t know if they’re loyal to Pallas, and if they are we can’t let them know you’re here.”
“And I can’t let you face them alone,” Anton had argued. “I’m the reason you walked away from the Order, and if they want to punish you for it—”
“Then I’m sure you can storm in dramatically the way you did at my Tribunal sentencing,” Jude had said, a blush threatening to creep up his neck when he thought back to the Tribunal. It was, looking back, the moment he’d realized that the magnetic pull he’d felt toward Anton had begun to grow into something more.
“I don’t like this,” Anton had replied, glowering.
“You don’t have to.”
Strangely, arguing with Anton felt like safe ground. They’d been tiptoeing around each other since that first conversation after Jude woke up, fumbling through being together again after months apart. Jude sometimes caught himself longing for that first, unguarded night they’d spent together on the road to Behezda, after abandoning the Guard, when Anton had asked him what do you want, like it was that simple.
Now, returning to Kerameikos after all this time, with Hector of all people at his side, things had never felt more complicated and Jude had never felt less certain. They didn’t even know who it was that waited for them in the fort. Whether they were friend or foe.
“Ready?” Hector asked as they pulled up to the dock.
Jude lifted a shoulder. “As I’ll ever be, I suppose.”
They stepped out onto the dock, where four sword-wielding Paladin waited to greet them.
“You are not authorized to dock here,” said the Paladin in front. Jude recognized her vaguely—she had short, dark hair and a smattering of freckles on her cheeks. “Take one more step, and we’ll draw our swords.”
Jude and Hector exchanged glances. They couldn’t surrender themselves, in case these Paladin were working for Pallas. But neither did they want to risk a fight, in case they weren’t.
“Under whose command is Kerameikos?” Jude asked.
“That is no business of yours,” another one of the Paladin, a younger man, said acidly. Then his eyes widened as he took Jude in. “You’re … you’re the Weatherbourne heir.”
The dark-haired Paladin glanced at her companion sharply, and then looked back at Jude, her eyes flinty. “Oathbreaker.”
The fury in her voice stole the breath from Jude’s lungs.
“Both of them,” said another Paladin. This one Jude did know—as did Hector. His name was Ariel, and Hector had once started a fight with him over something Jude could no longer remember. The fight had ended when Jude had broken it up. “That’s Hector Navarro.”
The dark-haired Paladin’s eyes narrowed. “Go get the captain. Now.”
Ariel strode away. Jude kept his gaze pinned to his retreating back. The captain? Hope glimmered in his chest for a moment as Jude imagined they were fetching his father. As if somehow he was alive, he’d survived the Witnesses’ attack after all. He quickly extinguished the thought as fear took its place. Whoever their captain was now, they could very well be under Pallas’s command.
“What are two oathbreakers doing on our shores?” the dark-haired Paladin demanded. “You should have known you wouldn’t be welcomed here. If I had to guess, I’d say you had a ship full of oathbreakers and you’ve come here to reclaim Kerameikos.” She turned her head to call over her shoulder. “Search the ship.”
Jude stiffened as the two Paladin advanced.
“Move aside, or I will strike you down,” one of them said, when Jude didn’t move.
“Then strike me down,” Jude replied levelly, his hand going to the sword at his hip. He didn’t know what the Paladin woman meant by oathbreakers. Those who had joined Pallas? Or those who hadn’t?
The Paladin in front of Jude unsheathed his blade. A split second later, Hector’s sword scraped free of its sheath, the tip of the blade pointed at the Paladin’s throat.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Hector said, an edge of amusement in his voice.
“Hector,” Jude warned.
“Stand down, oathbreaker!” the dark-haired Paladin ordered. A flurry of scraping metal rang through the air as the other Paladin drew their own swords.
“You’re outnumbered,” the dark-haired Paladin said, her sword pointing at Hector, but her eyes on Jude. “Surrender and submit to our search.”
“I’m very sorry,” Jude said, “but I can’t let you search the ship.”
“You have not the means to stop us,” the Paladin replied. “And if you think about drawing your sword—”
Jude didn’t draw his sword. Instead, he breathed in and summoned his Grace, the way he had in Behezda when he’d faced the scarred Witness. It came to him easily now, so easily he didn’t need to move through a koah to channel it, swelling like a building storm. Power surged through him, until the very air around Jude caught with it. Water from the river sprayed and leaves whipped around him.
“What are you doing?” the Paladin asked, her eyes growing wide and alarmed.
Jude didn’t answer, just let his Grace flare inside of him, bolstered by the strength of his intention, the oath that was now bound to his esha.
“S-stop this!” the Paladin cried, now panicked, one arm thrown up over her face to protect against the gale. “How are you doing this?”
“Stand down!” a new voice cried from the top of the fort’s outer wall. “Stand down at once!”
Jude glanced up and caught sight of a familiar figure, her copper braid coiled close to her head, her silver torc gleaming in the sunlight.
Startled, Jude let go of his Grace and felt it ebb away, the wind subsiding.
“Penrose!” He could not help the jolt of relief and joy he felt at seeing her here, though he knew her reaction was probably quite different.
She leapt down from the wall, advancing on the group slowly, her jaw set and her eyes locked on Jude. There was no hint of warmth or welcome in her expression.
“Captain Penrose!” the Paladin woman said, snapping to attention. “We were questioning the oathbreakers as to their motives in coming here.”
Captain Penrose. Jude tried not to show how rattled he felt.
Penrose leaned toward the Paladin woman, whispering something that even Jude’s Grace-enhanced hearing couldn’t catch. The woman cast a glance back at Jude and then hurried away.
Penrose and Jude stared at each other across the dock for a long moment.
Then Penrose nodded to the Paladin who still had his sword out in front of Jude. “You. Search the ship.”
A wave of hurt hit Jude as he took in the hard expression on Penrose’s face. He hadn’t expected this reunion would be a happy one, but he also hadn’t thought her trust in him had broken so deeply.
But he still trusted her. So when three of the Paladin moved to go past him onto the ship, Jude stepped aside without a word. He may have betrayed Penrose, let her down too many times to count, but he knew who she was. He knew her heart. And he knew she would never follow the Hierophant, even if he had turned out to be a Prophet.
She just stared him down, steely-eyed, as they waited for the Paladin to complete their search. Very quickly, Jude heard the sounds of a scuffle that told him they’d found Khepri, and sure enough a moment later, two of the Paladin emerged onto the deck, dragging the struggling Legionnaire between them.
Penrose’s eyes widened. “Khepri?”
Hassan sprinted across the deck after them.
“Prince Hassan?”
Hassan stopped, leaning over the ship’s railing, looking down at Penrose. “Khepri, stop. It’s Penrose.”
Khepri ceased her struggle immediately, letting the Paladin lead her onto the dock.
“Captain Penrose!” the third Paladin called out. “They have the Prophet.”
A moment later the Paladin emerged, dragging Anton by the arm, and by the expression on Anton’s face, none too gently. Jude felt his Grace flare inside him again on instinct, an almost primal urge to defend Anton rising in him.
“Let him go,” Penrose commanded, and when Jude’s gaze found her again he could see the disquiet in her probing stare. He knew her heart, and she knew his as well. “Let them all go.”
“But Captain—”
“I said let them go,” Penrose repeated, her tone allowing for no argument.
The Paladin released Khepri and Anton. On the ship behind them, the others had stepped out onto the deck. Penrose’s gaze tracked Anton as he went to Jude’s side.
The words of the scarred Witness rang in Jude’s head, ugly. Does your service to the Prophet extend to his bed?
He shook it off. The other Paladin might not understand, might think Jude nothing but an oathbreaker, debasing their Prophet with his weakness, but Jude knew the truth, and he wasn’t going to hide it any longer. He met Penrose’s gaze.
“I know you have no reason to trust us, after what we did,” he said, keeping his voice as even as he could. “We abandoned you and the rest of the Guard.”
“You abducted the Last Prophet and put him in harm’s way,” Penrose corrected sharply.
Anton opened his mouth, looking like he was ready for a fight, but Jude quieted him with a touch to the back of his wrist.
He inclined his head to Penrose. “You’re right. I didn’t trust my own Guard. I cannot apologize for making the journey to the City of Mercy to try to stop the Hierophant, but I do regret that we parted as we did.”
“And now?” Penrose asked. “Now that a god has been resurrected and Pallas is using it as a weapon to subjugate the Prophetic Cities you’ve come here for what? To hear that you were right, and we were wrong?”
Jude heard the pain in her voice.
“No,” he replied. “We came here because we need your help.”
“So let me get this straight,” Penrose said as they sat around the table in the tearoom with the remaining members of the Guard—Petrossian, Osei, and Annuka, who Jude was grateful and relieved to see had not followed her brother to join Pallas. Jude, Anton, and the Wanderer were the only ones Penrose had allowed inside the gates, which was perhaps for the best. She seemed barely able to look at Hector.
“You’re actually a Prophet?” Penrose pointed at the Wanderer, who nodded. “You all have the god with you? And you brought it here?”
“Beru isn’t dangerous,” Anton assured her.
“We’ve seen what the god has done,” Petrossian interrupted darkly. “Tearing out Grace and giving it to Witnesses.”
“That was Pallas controlling her,” Anton replied. “Beru is … she’s good. I know it’s hard to believe, but she’s helping us. She wants the god gone just as much as we do, and she’s willing to do whatever it takes.”
“And so you two need to use the Circle of Stones to find the other Prophets?” Penrose asked. “You don’t know where they are?”
The Wanderer sighed. “When the final prophecy came to the seven of us, we went into hiding. The prophecy had essentially stated that our time—the Age of Prophets—was coming to a close. We felt it safest to disappear, as we could no longer wield any influence over the world. The thought was that once the Last Prophet was born, we could return to help teach him.”
“But the others didn’t return,” Jude said. “Why not?”
The Wanderer shook her head. “I don’t know. In the intervening century, Pallas turned against this plan, obviously. He returned to the world in secret. But the others … they could be, quite literally, anywhere, masking their esha from scryers.”
“Which is why we need to use the Circle of Stones to scry for them,” Anton added. He looked at Penrose. “Remember before the Witnesses attacked Kerameikos, how the Order wanted me to scry to prove I was the Last Prophet? This is exactly the same thing.”
Penrose bit her lip. “I don’t know if I like this.”
“If the Prophets haven’t returned, it must be for a reason,” Osei agreed. “We must trust that they know what is best.”
The Wanderer laughed, a pleasant, wind chime of a sound. She stopped abruptly when she realized no one else had laughed with her. “Oh. You actually mean that.”
Penrose stiffened. “We must trust in the Prophets.”
“I am a Prophet,” the Wanderer said, her eyes flashing. “So is Pallas. I know the Order of the Last Light has sworn oaths to serve us, but it’s not that simple. Even back then, relations between the seven of us were … complicated.”
Jude eyed the Wanderer curiously. She’d spoken very little about the other Prophets and their past together. Her relationship with the others had been strained, that much he knew. But she seemed reluctant to divulge how that tension had come to be and what had made Pallas turn against the others.
“The point is,” Jude said, redirecting their attention from what he knew would be a fraught topic, “we need to find the Prophets.”
Penrose looked wary. “I don’t know about this. I need to think it through.”
“Actually, we really don’t have—” Anton began.
“That’s fine,” Jude said, cutting him off. “But before you make a decision, you should know the risks, too.”
Anton sent him a warning look, but Jude ignored it. Penrose might be furious with him, but he still trusted her. He refused to involve her and the rest of the Order without telling them the whole truth.
Anton sighed and answered for Jude. “The other Prophets will feel it when we use the Circle of Stones to scry for them, as if we were sending up a beacon. Which means…”
“Pallas will know where you are, too,” Annuka finished darkly. She’d been quiet until now, not that she’d ever been the most talkative to begin with. But Jude could sense the bitter loss and betrayal radiating off her at the mention of the Hierophant. He could barely fathom the pain it must have caused her when Yarik had forsaken the Order to join Pallas.
Jude nodded. “Everyone will have to leave Kerameikos before we do this.”
“Leave Kerameikos?” Penrose echoed. “We’ve only just gotten it back. Some of our people lost their lives retaking it from the Witnesses.”
“Pallas is going to do whatever it takes to find us and get Beru back,” Anton said.
Penrose looked like she was going to protest again.
“Penrose,” Jude said gently. “We wouldn’t ask this of you if we didn’t think it was the only way.”
“You can’t just waltz back here after everything you did, Jude,” she said sharply. “You can’t just make these outrageous demands and expect us to go along with it. You left us, Jude. When we needed you the most, you abandoned us. And do you know what happened? Other Paladin lost faith. They broke rank. The Order is not what it once was, and it’s your fault. Our people left! Yarik left to follow Pallas because you and the Prophet weren’t here to lead us. Pallas convinced him that you had turned your back on us. And he was right, wasn’t he?” She punctuated that with a swift look at Anton, making her meaning clear.
Jude felt his own anger rise up in his chest. He turned to Anton and the others. “Could you give us a moment?”
The Wanderer retreated toward the door with a mild look, the rest of the Guard filing out behind her. Anton hesitated, gaze trained on Jude, before following.
Once the door shut, Jude turned back to Penrose. “I know about Yarik,” he said unsteadily. “I saw him in the citadel, following Pallas’s orders.”
“You are the Keeper of the Word, Jude,” Penrose said. “And when you disgraced yourself, you disgraced the entire Order. It wasn’t so long ago that we worshipped Pallas, and the fact that you weren’t here to stand up to him made it all too easy for some of us to return to him.”
Guilt crawled up Jude’s throat. There was some truth in what Penrose said, and there was even a part of Jude that understood what Yarik had done. Jude had been told his whole life to follow orders. Told not to question the Order or the Prophets. That was what had stopped him from stepping out of line for so long. The fear that if he didn’t have the Order’s rules, he would have to make his own choices.
And for some of the Paladin, that fear had led them to follow a man like Pallas rather than face a world where they had no one to guide them.
Jude met Penrose’s gaze. “Do you think it was easy for me to come back here?”
“Well, it was easy enough for you to leave,” she shot back.
“No, it wasn’t.”
“I just don’t understand,” Penrose said, sounding aggravated. “Why are you so intent on sabotaging yourself? On becoming this—this person I barely recognize.”
“That’s not what this is about.”
“You were supposed to be the Keeper of the Word!” Penrose cried. “You were supposed to lead us! And you threw it away for what? Or were you just so afraid you’d never measure up that you decided you’d abandon us before you could find out?”
As much as he wanted to dismiss Penrose’s words, she was partially right. The first time he’d left, he’d told himself he was chasing after Hector, but the truth was that he’d been running away from the Order, from the duty he was certain he could never live up to, the oath he was sure he couldn’t fulfill.
“We all have weakness in our hearts,” Penrose said. “Why did you give in to yours?”
That stung, more than Jude was prepared for. “I didn’t.”
Penrose’s expression tightened. “You broke your oath.”
“I don’t see it that way,” Jude said. “Not anymore. My oath was to serve the Prophet. To protect him. And loving him … loving him has only brought me closer to that purpose. You think that I gave up, that I lost my faith, but it wasn’t that at all. I found it. In him. In myself.”
Penrose just stared at him, her jaw clenched. Maybe she would never understand the choices he had made. But he didn’t need to justify himself, to her or anyone. He wasn’t the defeated shell of a person, filled with self-loathing and anger, that he’d been the last time he was in Kerameikos. He knew who he was.
“Penrose,” he said. “I know you can’t forgive me. I know you might never understand why I did what I did. But I didn’t come here to beg for forgiveness or explain myself to you. And regardless of what you think of me and my choices, regardless of the fact that you don’t believe in me anymore—” He sucked in a shaking breath, overcome suddenly with the thought that no matter what happened, his relationship with Penrose would never be what it once was. A wave of grief rose in him, as dark and overwhelming as he’d felt when Penrose had told him his father was dead.
When he found his words again, his voice was quiet, measured. “I know you still believe in our duty. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here, holding the Order together.”
“It shouldn’t be me holding us together.”
Jude smiled through a pang of sadness. “Maybe not. But it is you.”
Penrose held his gaze for a moment and then looked away. “Your … friends,” she said at last. “They can stay in the barracks for the night. Keric knows, we have the room.”
Jude nodded, grateful. “Thank you, I’ll tell them.” He turned to go.
“And Jude—” Penrose said, and then stopped herself. “You’re all welcome to come to dinner in the great hall.”
It was not, he saw, what she had intended to say, but Jude just nodded and left the room without another word.
When he stepped back out to the veranda, Anton was hovering a few feet from the door. The Wanderer, true to her name, seemed to have wandered off.
“What did she say?” Anton asked with an edge of nervousness.
Jude shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“That bad, huh?”
“We should go find the others.”
“Jude…” Anton began, making an aborted movement, as if he wanted to take Jude’s hand.
Jude looked off toward the crumbled outer wall of the fort. “It was my choice to leave the Order. I’d make the same one again.”
“I know you would,” Anton said. “But I also know that coming back here can’t be easy. And you can talk to me about this. I want—I want you to tell me how you feel. Even if you don’t think I’ll like it.”
Jude just stared at him, momentarily speechless. “You want—Why?”
“Why?” Anton echoed. He touched a thumb to Jude’s temple, fingers combing through Jude’s hair soothingly. “Because I want to know everything about you. Always.”
He said it like it was obvious, like Jude should take it for granted that Anton should want to know these things, every hidden truth and private shame. Jude was so used to Anton being able to see through him, further than even Jude himself saw sometimes. It had always been that way between them, right from the first night they’d met.
But it was one thing for Anton to steal past Jude’s defenses and slip beyond the walls of his heart like a thief in the night. It was quite another for Jude to fling open the gates and invite him inside. To forfeit even the pretense of protection.
He wasn’t sure he could bear it. Not now, still bruised from the past two and a half months and the knowledge that Anton had kept them apart. Not now that he knew exactly what pain it might bring because he had already lived through it once.
But he’d meant everything he’d just said to Penrose. The way he felt about Anton was the needle of the compass that guided him. He had tried, futilely, to resist its pull before. What was the point of pretending he could do it now? What was the sense in closing the gates when the walls themselves would just as easily crumble?
He caught Anton’s hand and drew it to his lips, kissing the soft center of his palm. Anton’s fingers curled, brushing Jude’s cheek.
“You too,” Jude said, folding their hands together. “You can tell me anything, Anton.”
Perhaps it was just his imagination, but Anton’s smile seemed a little dimmer.