Anton blinked at him. Hector barked out a laugh, and when Hassan turned his steady gaze on him, he cut himself off.

“Oh. You’re serious?”

Hassan nodded.

“There’s no way they’ll believe us,” Ephyra said.

Hassan shook his head. “I mean, maybe they won’t. But you’d be surprised at the faith people have when you offer them a little hope.”

“We can’t,” Jude said at once. “I won’t risk Anton like that.”

Anton sighed. He’d expected as much.

Hassan’s jaw clenched. “But you’ll risk letting these people lock us up or execute us because they think we’re working for Pallas?”

“We’ll find another way to convince them,” Jude said. “Something that doesn’t put Anton in—”

“Actually,” Anton cut in. “I kind of think Prince Hassan has a point.”

Jude stared at him, his green eyes burning.

“Anton,” Hassan said. “This is your choice. If you tell them you’re the Last Prophet, I think they’ll believe you. Jude isn’t wrong—it is dangerous. But it might be our only option.”

He was right—Anton knew it. And so did Jude, as much as he was pretending otherwise.

But before he could reply, the door clanged open once again and a dozen more people poured into the forge, seizing them by the arms and dragging them all outside.

“Hey, hey!” Hassan protested as they shoved him out toward the river.

“What did Illya tell you?” Anton demanded, struggling against his own captors. “What did he say?”

No one answered him as their captors silently marched them down a stone path, heading into the town. They passed homes and shops, people spilling out into the street to watch the sorry parade.

They wound up a narrow stone path toward the apex of the surging waterfalls. There, a stone platform jutted out over the water, looking down at a plaza hewn into the rockface.

Lady Iskara waited on the platform, along with more of her guards and Illya.

“What did you do?” Anton bit out, glaring at Illya.

Illya looked genuinely bewildered and a little frightened. “Nothing, I swear.”

A crowd of curious onlookers was forming in the plaza below them. Anton heard people hollering to their neighbors and saw others climbing up on their roofs.

“What are they going to do?” Beru asked worriedly.

“People of Anvari!” Lady Iskara cried, her voice enhanced by some trick of artificery. “Earlier tonight, your brave and valorous rangers found a group of Witnesses plotting to attack our city.”

Hushed mumblings of unease and worry broke out over the crowd.

“These Witnesses were quickly caught, and they stand before you now,” Lady Iskara said. “As your ruler, it is my duty to carry out the will of the people.”