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—”