He inclined his chin but said nothing. Wow, this sure was fun. I’d had more exciting conversations with myself. Well, what was I expecting anyway? The guy was the only one here who’d worn a uniform to the party. Even Nyx, the First Angel of the Legion, was wearing a long satin gown.

“So.” I put on a smile. “How have you been?”

“Busy.” His gazed darted across the room. “I have to go.”

“Oh, ok.” I tried not to sound disappointed—which I most certainly was not.

Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that, said the voice of doubt in my head.

Nero walked away, leaving me alone and feeling stupid. Wow, I was a master orator tonight. Why weren’t the words coming out right? Why was my tongue tripping over every other syllable? I needed to be witty and interesting, but I was just dull and uninspiring. What had happened between us was throwing me for a loop. He’d comforted me in my moment of turmoil, and now things were…weird. I wasn’t really sure what to say to him anymore. Not that I should be worrying about this. I’d already decided that Nero and I weren’t going to be anything.

With that cleared up, I turned to look for Ivy, but she was dancing with Drake now. I didn’t want to interrupt that. On the other side of the dance floor, beside the cupcake tower, Nerissa and Captain Somerset were chatting. Now that was a dangerous conversation. I couldn’t imagine what the unfiltered queens of the Legion were talking about—and I was sure I didn’t want to know.

I was about to go talk to my former dormitory roommate Lucy when the music stopped and the golden ceiling lights brightened. All eyes turned to the brightest spot in the room, a raised platform. Nero stood there, in front of a table that held three antique colored bottles, each one about the size of a wine bottle. And beside those three bottles were three goblets.

“Welcome,” Nero said, his voice carrying across the whole ballroom, filling it so that it seemed he was speaking from every direction. “We bear witness here today as five of our own challenge themselves once more to take their next step in life, to strengthen themselves and the Legion in preparation for the days to come.”

“For the days to come,” everyone repeated around me.

“Soren Diaz, step forward,” Nero said.

The crowd parted, and Ivy’s admirer walked toward the stage. He moved with a strong, supple gait—his body and his mind both hardened by the Legion’s merciless training regimen. His steps were steady and his head held high, but I could feel a subtle flutter of anxiety wafting off of him. No one else showed any sign of noticing. Or they were simply all too professional to show that they had.

He stopped before Nero. Eyes nearly as dark as his black hair met the angel’s green stare. Nero took a bottle from the table and began to fill one of the goblets. A pale gold liquid that looked like yellow milk gurgled out.

“Sip now of the gods’ Nectar,” Nero recited, handing him the full goblet. “Consume the magic of their sixth gift. Let it fill you, making you strong for the days to come.”

“For the days to come,” everyone repeated again. The words must be some kind of Legion catchphrase, but I’d never heard them before.

Lieutenant Diaz drank. As he did, his face contorted in agony, but he didn’t stop drinking, not even for a second. When the goblet was empty, he set it down on the table. Then, suddenly, he stumbled to the side, throwing out a hand to catch himself on the wall. His body shook and pain streamed down his face, but he remained on his feet with the unyielding stubbornness that defined the Legion. After a few shaky moments, he managed to straighten. He met Nero’s eyes once more. Nero nodded, and Lieutenant Diaz turned and stepped off the platform, disappearing into the crowd.

Then Nero called out once more in a voice that seemed to hit me from every direction, “Cassia Lynch, step forward.”

A short woman with a long black braid walked up to the platform, the train of her long periwinkle-blue chiffon gown slithering across the floor after her as she moved. Nero poured from the second bottle into a different goblet. This dose of Nectar was amber-colored, resembling maple syrup.

“Sip now of the gods’ Nectar,” said Nero. “Consume the magic of their third gift. Let it fill you, making you strong for the days to come.

“For the days to come,” everyone repeated.

Corporal Lynch took the goblet into her hands and drank long and deep. She held herself together well, keeping her face neutral even as her chest shook with internal convulsions. She just stood there, immovable, waiting. Finally, her body stopped twitching, and Nero dismissed her.

Next came Corporal Solis, also up for the third level. He wore a suave tuxedo and black shoes that shone like pure oil, but his charming exterior cracked when he almost threw up the Nectar he’d received. He managed to hold himself together—and the Nectar down. Nero dismissed him as well.

After him came Jace. He threw back the entire contents of the goblet in a single go. He looked less sick than the last guy, but he was definitely shaken. As soon as Nero was satisfied he wouldn’t die, he dismissed him. Jace walked away, his steps wobbling.

And then it was my turn.

“Leda Pierce, step forward.”

All eyes turned from Nero to me. Whispers sizzled up on the crowd, though they’d been silent during the ceremonies before mine.

“Be silent,” Nero said, his voice cutting like a whip through their whispers. The chatting died in an instant.

I walked forward, the hard heels of my boots snapping with false confidence against the smooth floor. My eyes remained locked on the target: the goblet Nero had just filled with a bright pink fluid. Turmoil twisted inside of my stomach, filling me with dread.