We go back up the sandy ridge, and I tell him about Noam and the humans’ past offers of peace, how the sentinels lied, and about my decision to leave. “I was the only person who knew everything, Callen. It would have taken too long to find my sister or to rally others around me. I had to help. And now I’ve found you all, so I am helping. You wouldn’t know to hurry if it wasn’t for me.”

Callen nods, but his expression stays locked in one of concern. “Ro, when you don’t report for duty—”

“I know. It’ll look like I deserted.” I look everywhere but his stupidly handsome, familiar face. “I can deal with that later. We have other things to focus on, anyway. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Rowan.” He says my name like he really knows me, and of course he does. He knows the years before my father’s death, before I decided to follow in his footsteps and become a warrior. He knows the side of me I don’t like to show—the vulnerable side, the one that’s absolutely crushed, leaving me feeling hollowed out.

Tears start to mix with the rain streaming down my face. “If Tabrol dies, the city will fall. But if we find the cure fast enough, it’ll save him and all the other children. And, if skies are good, it’ll be enough for the king to get over the fact that I left without orders. So are you going to help me look for the stupid flower or not?”

It shouldn’t be so easy, talking to him. But I fall back into it like stepping into an old pair of shoes. The flow of our words together and how quickly I can predict his.

“Let’s look,” he replies. “Lead the way.”

Rain lashes against my skin, the fat droplets whipped by the wind. We must have looked for an hour, and nothing. I pull Callen’s cloak tightly against my body. It’s little use soaked with the sea’s spray, but it comforts me, anyway. Wind howls in my ears, and my head starts to hurt for how cold they are.

“Let’s go back,” I say. Beside me, Callen shivers. “Here.”

I lift the cloak and awkwardly drape it around the two of us. Our boots will get wet, but at least he’ll stop shaking. Callen uses his arm and helps, propping up the fabric like a little roof.

Is this a mistake? I just want him warm. Or do I want him close? I don’t dare look at Callen, but I feel him—our limbs touching as we walk, the discomfort of my wet clothes forgotten in my racing pulse.

“You okay?” Callen asks.

“Yeah. Just tired.”

When the barn comes back into sight, I sigh. “Seth’s going to have my hide.”