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.”