Her expression changes, eyebrows raising just a little in concern. For once in her life, she doesn’t say anything. I send a prayer to the first king and queen, hoping they’re watching over me from the Endless Skies. Whatever magic lifted the Heliana into the skies, it has to be enough to say this.

“I love you,” I say. “I love you, Ro, and as way, way more than a friend. I’m in love with you.” Her lips move, but no sound comes. I swallow hard. “I just really wanted you to know.”

She looks away from me. “Callen, where is this coming from?”

“I’ve wanted to tell you for months,” I say. “But I didn’t have the guts until I saw you with Ox.”

“So you only wanted me because I was with someone else?”

“No, that’s not it.”

She avoids my gaze. “Well, that’s how it sounds.”

“I know, just … wait a second.” I lean on the wall next to her. She moves away. Rowan never shies away from me. We’re different. We’re us.

I can barely hear my voice over the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long. You’re funny and smart, and you’re going to be a really great warrior. I know you think I go easy on you in sparring, but I swear on the skies I don’t.”

“Okay…”

“And you’re so beautiful, Ro. I can’t believe I never told you. You should see how the other warriors look at you.”

Sand scrapes beneath her feet as she shifts. “So?”

“So. It just felt right, when I realized I wanted you in a new way. When I realized I loved you.”

Rowan starts to pace, her hands touching the hilts of her throwing knives like I know she does to focus. “I can’t believe this is happening. What did you expect me to say, Callen?”

“That’s not … Come on,” I protest. “I was hoping you’d want what I wanted.” My hope sours to bitterness. “Haven’t you ever looked at me like that, even once?”

Finally, Rowan’s eyes meet mine. Dark brown, with flecks of gold as all Leonodai have. “Of course I have,” she says. “Of course I’ve thought about it. I just think I want something more. Something different.” I don’t want you. That’s what she wants to say, she’s just too kind to say it.

I put my hands on my hips. “Great. Got it.”

“Look, I gotta go, Cal.”

The sound of my nickname breaks me. I let out a bitter laugh. While I call her by hers all the time, she only uses Cal when she is frustrated about a bad training session or thinking about her father. When she wants to be alone.