He could feel Hector’s gaze on him. This was why he had kept this from Hector. He couldn’t stand the pity in his eyes. He thought Jude was a fool for holding on to hope this way, but Jude would rather be a fool than give up on Anton.

“He’s not dead,” he said evenly.

“Jude,” Hector said softly. Jude still refused to look at him. “We looked for him in Behezda. For weeks.”

“He’s alive,” Jude said sharply. “I know he is.”

He could not explain why he was so certain. Even with the world falling around them, somehow Anton had survived. Jude knew it. Because if he’d gone from the world, his body returned to the earth, his esha released into the air, then Jude would have felt it. Just as he’d felt it the moment Anton had entered the world, all those years ago.

Anton was the Prophet. He couldn’t be gone, because if he was, it would mean there was no hope left.

“You should listen to your friend,” Zinnia said, her voice softening. “When six scryers try to find someone and not a single one succeeds, it can only mean one thing.”

“So you don’t want the job?” Jude asked brusquely, heading back to the door. “Come on, Hector. We’re done here.”

“Hold on just a second,” Zinnia said, sounding amused. To Hector, she said, “Is he always this surly?”

Hector barked out a laugh. “These days, definitely.”

Jude spun back to them, glowering.

“I may have something else for you two,” Zinnia said. “As it so happens, I’ve been expecting you.”

“What?” Jude asked, his heart thudding as he exchanged an alarmed look with Hector. It’s a trap. The Witnesses, Pallas—They’re here. “What do you mean?”

Hector’s hand snapped to the hilt of his sword as Jude pulled himself taut as a bowstring, ready to flee or fight at the slightest provocation.

“Mrs. Tappan said you would stop by,” Zinnia said with a wave, entirely unconcerned with their obvious apprehension. “She sends her regards.”

“I’ve never met her,” Jude replied flatly.

“Yes, you have,” Zinnia replied confidently. “She lent you her ship.”

Jude’s tension gave way to sheer bafflement. “Lady Bellrose?”

Zinnia smiled. “One of her many aliases.”

“Who?” Hector asked, glancing between the two of them.

“She’s a collector,” Jude said. “Or she posed as one.” Anton had said she was a bounty hunter. And she’d called herself the leader of the Lost Rose. He looked at Zinnia. “How did she know I’d be here?”

She shrugged.