“You could have warned him what was going to happen,” Hassan croaked. “The covenant of the Lost Rose—that was the reason that the Hierophant came to Nazirah in the first place. My father died protecting your secrets.”

The Wanderer bowed her head, staring down at her drink. “I may be a Prophet, but I can no longer see the future. I didn’t know what Pallas would do to Nazirah or your father. I wish I had.”

Hassan clenched his jaw, pressure building behind his eyes. He’d only cried over his father’s death once—that one desperate night he’d spent as a prisoner in his own palace. He felt like crying again now.

“Your father knew there were aspects of the Lost Rose and the Relics that I never told him. But even without that knowledge, he understood the importance of his duty and he dedicated himself to it wholeheartedly, knowing that he was protecting the future of not only his own kingdom, but the whole world. And I think you understand that, too, don’t you, Hassan? That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Hassan’s voice caught in his throat. During those six weeks in Tel Amot, he’d come so close to giving up and returning to Nazirah, turning his back on everything to do with the prophecy, the god, and the Age of Darkness.

“I thought I was here because it’s my destiny,” Hassan replied.

A destiny he’d never asked for. Just like his father had never asked to be part of the Lost Rose, entrusted to protect an ancient secret and bear a burden that was so much greater than just his own kingdom. But he had done it anyway.

“You could go back to Nazirah,” the Wanderer said. It sounded like a genuine offer. “You could go home.”

He could. He could leave Jude and Hector and Ephyra and Anton to handle all this. Leave it all on their shoulders and go back to worrying about his own people.

“What do you think I should do?” Hassan asked.

“I think,” she said, “you should finish your drink and go back to sleep.”

Hassan found Khepri the next morning at the stern of the ship, holding on to the railing and looking out at the rocky coastline as they neared the inlet that would lead them up the river to Kerameikos Fort.

His heart beat unsteadily as he approached. It had taken him this long to summon the courage to talk to her, and he knew what to expect—anger, certainly, at what he’d done in Nazirah and how it had led to her capture. Relief, perhaps, that he was alive.