Milo offers to sleep in the grass under the stars, but I insist that there’s room in the tent for both of us. I’m not willing to spend my first true night on this planet alone, and he seems to understand. Besides, the two sleeping bags inside the tent are as frustratingly far apart as humanly possible.
I’m not sleepy, of course. How could I be, with this god of a man six feet away from me?
“From what my birth mother wrote to me,” I tell him as I stare restlessly up at the roof of the tent, “people here sort of… know about me. But what, exactly, do they know? At least, what do they think they know?”
He glances over at me. “You’re said to be the most powerful of the Senses, and the most beautiful.”
I roll my eyes. “That doesn’t even make sense. How would they know what I look like?”
“Yo
