“And what if I don’t want to leave?”

“Then we’ll just ditch you again. Mac, here.” She handed the rabbits to him, and Sprout leaped forward to take the quail from me, too. “Perry, do something about this fire. It’s pathetic.”

The little boy darted forward to tend to the flames, and I made myself comfortable on a log. After Perry spent a few minutes unsuccessfully poking the embers with a stick, I encouraged the fire to burn a little warmer. No harm in helping out. They didn’t need to know.

When the flames grew without any real help from Perry, however, Tuck gave me a look. I returned it with a vague smile. She might’ve suspected, but after the way she’d run away, I wasn’t about to give up my secrets. Not until she gave up hers.

Soon enough, a delicious scent wafted through the air, and even my mouth started to water. I’d used my powers too much today—I needed food, and I needed sleep. Desperately. Rabbit and quail weren’t usually my thing, but they’d have to do tonight.

Mac offered the first rabbit to Tuck, who waited until we all had one before she started to eat. Polite to her own, at least, even if she couldn’t spare some of that grace for me.

“So how do you all know each other?” I said. They were all so engrossed in eating their rabbits that for a moment, no one spoke. At last Tuck stuck a bone in her mouth, sucking off the juices.

“Luck,” she said. “Our parents were killed in the war, so we all banded together. Only way we can survive.”

“Doesn’t seem like you’re doing a great job of it,” I said, and the moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Stupid, stupid, stupid thing to say, insulting her like that in front of everyone, and I quickly added, “I mean—can’t be that easy, living in the woods by yourself.”

Tuck’s expression hardened, and she threw the bone into the fire. “We can’t all be a hunting prodigy like you,” she muttered, refusing to look at me. Didn’t blame her. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut for once?

“Tuck’s brilliant,” said Perry through a mouthful of rabbit. “She’s the smartest person I know.”

“That’s because the only other people you know are Sprout and Mac,” said Tuck, but she blushed at the compliment anyway.

“Is that why you won’t let me join you?” I said. “Because you’re afraid I’ll replace you as leader?”

She looked at me sharply, her blue eyes guarded. So I was right, then, “I won’t let you join us because I don’t trust you.”

“But I could feed you,” I said. “And I could never take your place, you know.”

“Doesn’t matter. I still don’t trust you. I don’t even know your name.”

I sighed. “If I tell you my name, will you let me into your group?”

“If you tell me your name, I’ll consider letting you prove yourself to us,” she said. “No promises.”

Clearly that was the best I was going to do, so I shrugged. I could lie, but if she really held the answer to what was happening to my family, then I couldn’t risk destroying the shaky ground we were already on. Besides, it wasn’t as if I hadn’t revealed myself to mortals before. It’d gone well in the past. Most of the time. And between the lack of bleeding and the quick turnaround on a feast, I’d already shown them my abilities. They had no reason to question me.

That was the worst, when mortals went on and on, quizzing me, testing me, demanding to see my powers in action—as if my word wasn’t enough. Which, all right, to be fair, it probably wasn’t. Otherwise any crazy mortal could go around acting like they were one of us.

So I squared my shoulders, looked her straight in the eye, and said, “My name is Hermes.”

I expected her to gape at me, to gasp, to demand proof—any one of the same reactions I’d gotten time and time again. Instead she stared at me.

And—that was it. She just sat there. And blinked. And finally said, “That’s the dumbest name I’ve ever heard.”

Now it was my turn to stare. She’d never heard of me? “Sometimes I go by Mercury,” I said cautiously. The Roman Empire was still around, after all.

“That’s even worse,” she said. “I mean, really. If you’re going to give yourself a nickname, at least let it be a good one.”

She really had no idea. Normally that wouldn’t have been any big deal, but we weren’t that far from Greece, and this island had once been part of the Roman Empire. Yet she didn’t have a clue. None of them did.

We were their gods, their rulers—our word was absolute, or at least it was to them. How was it possible they didn’t even realize we existed?

“So,” she said, interrupting my thoughts. “Since Hermes and Mercury won’t do, what are we going to call you?”

I bit my tongue. The last thing I needed was for her to take a sarcastic response seriously. “I don’t know. What do you consider to be a proper name?”

Tuck drummed her fingers on her thigh. Even when she was sitting there, doing nothing but thinking, there was something incredibly intriguing about her. Something didn’t fit. The way she held herself, the way she spoke—she was too cultured for this life. And for a girl to take the lead of a pack of boys, all of whom would be stronger than her in a few short years, if they weren’t already…

Across the fire, Sprout cleared his throat. “If you two lovebirds need a minute alone…”