Zarion gave his hand a dismissive wave. “You were not given permission to speak, girl. Especially not to speak such nonsense.”

The God of Faith might have been irked by my words, but Maya and Meda sure looked amused. Ronan remained perfectly stoic; I wondered if he had any other expression. I didn’t look at Nero. I didn’t have to. I could feel his stare burning through the back of my head.

But I was too upset to stop now. I turned to Aleris. His frown was more reflective than angry. Maybe I could win him over.

“This whole test is a cheat,” I said. “It’s a setup. It’s as unnatural as things get. Those monsters aren’t natural. They don’t belong in a human city. So when Nero ‘cheated’, he was just besting you at your own rules. And, let’s be honest, that’s what’s really got your back up. He won at a game that was designed to make him lose no matter what he did.”

Zarion looked ready to smite me—or do whatever it was that angry gods did. But Valora spoke first.

“Nyx was right,” the Queen Goddess said to Ronan. “She is lively.” She met my eyes for a brief moment, then addressed the other gods. “Now we shall vote.” There was a note of power in her voice, leaving no room for disagreement. “Should Colonel Windstriker be promoted for success or executed for failure?”

Dread sank like a stone in my stomach. I hadn’t realize that was the other side of the Gods’ Trials. I should have known, though. With the gods, it was all extremes. Reward or death. I wondered if I’d even helped at all by speaking out.

Valora looked at Ronan.

“Promote,” he replied. “Colonel Windstriker has been a valuable angel. Without him, the Legion will be weaker, less equipped to fight the darkness that lingers at the horizon.”

“Promote,” said Meda. “I was impressed by his ingenuity.”

“And by his compassion,” Maya agreed. “As well as his ability to surprise us. He and Leda are a powerful and resourceful team, even without their magic.”

I had the feeling that the two sisters often saw eye-to-eye. Three votes yes. I almost dared feel hopeful.

“You have given me something to think about,” Aleris told me. “But it will require much reflection. I cannot vote to promote at this time, though I do not believe Colonel Windstriker should be executed either. I must abstain.”

“Execute for blasphemy,” Zarion declared.

What a shock.

Valora spoke next. “As explosive as Zarion is, I cannot argue that he has a point. As Queen, I must uphold the laws, both as they are written and the spirit of them. And you failed the test we gave you, Colonel Windstriker. I must vote for execution.”

Vicious delight danced across Zarion’s face.

Now I was starting to get worried. Three for Nero. One abstained. Two against. Faris was the last one to vote, and he didn’t seem to be a fan of Nero—or of Ronan either. So when he voted against Nero, what would happen? Would Aleris be forced to vote in order to break the tie? He was obviously someone who didn’t change his opinion quickly, so if he had to vote, he’d go against us.

Valora looked at the God of Heaven’s Army. “Faris?”

Faris rose from his throne. He looked fully prepared to take a victory lap over Nero’s grave. “It’s no secret that I don’t approve of the way Ronan runs his Legion. He allows the angels far too much leeway. He doesn’t have them fully in check, and as a result, he has lost many of them to the demons. Colonel Windstriker is just the latest example of an angel out of control, breaking the rules, defying us.”

He was going to condemn Nero to death. I just knew it. I steeled myself for a fight. A fight against the gods. This was completely insane. Against seven gods, Nero and I didn’t have a chance, not without our magic. Hell, we wouldn’t even have a chance with our magic.

“However…”

The room echoed with that single word. My fists relaxed slightly. I held my breath.

“There is much more to take into account,” Faris continued. “Colonel Windstriker and Leda Pierce have saved this world countless times. As much as their methods annoy me, I cannot deny that they are effective. The Earth would be less safe without their watchful, tenacious eyes. It would be a gross oversight on my part to rob humanity of some of its best defenders. Furthermore, the treasury of ancient immortal artifacts they uncovered will greatly enrich my army’s powers. So I see no other option but to promote.”

Zarion jumped to his feet and shouted, “You are only voting that way to spite me! Like you always do.”

Faris’s smile was as cold as winter’s breath. “Not only to spite you, Brother. I gave several other reasons.”

Magic flared up around Zarion, a gold and crimson halo of fury. It burned so bright, so blinding, that I had to shield my eyes.

“Enough,” Valora’s voice cut through his halo like a hot knife. “The votes have been cast. The Council has voted to promote Nero Windstriker.”

Zarion’s halo faded. A clear chalice with a gold handle materialized in Valora’s hands. I recognized the drink inside, that liquid silver. It was pure Nectar, the food of the gods. I’d seen it once before—when Harker had tried to get me to drink it shortly after I’d joined the Legion. Drinking this Nectar would make Nero an archangel, the highest level of angel. It was as close to a god as any of us ever would be. If he survived. At the declaration that we would not be executed, my racing pulse had calmed, but it spiked again now.

Ronan took the chalice from Valora. He walked down the seven steps to us, handing the chalice of pure Nectar to Nero. He turned to me. A second chalice appeared in his hand. The Nectar inside glistened like a sunset.

“For your part in recovering the lost immortal treasures, for your part in the birth of a new archangel, Leda Pierce, I, Ronan, the God of War, Lord of the Legion of Angels, am promoting you to the fifth level.” He handed me the chalice of sunset Nectar. “We are intrigued with you—and look forward to see what you will do in the future.”

Ronan ascended the steps and took his seat. All the gods were sitting on their thrones now, looking down on us. I had to admit it was unnerving. I’d thought I would have more time to train, to prepare for this. What if I wasn’t ready?

Nero set his hand on my arm, turning me toward him. “You are ready.” He didn’t need magic to know what I was thinking. I guess it was all out there on my face—my uncertainty, my fear.

I put on a brave smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” I lifted my chalice. “Cheers.”

We clinked glasses, then I emptied the Nectar in one go. That was the only way to do it—quickly, before I had a chance to panic. The Nectar slid down my throat, as smooth as honey.

A surge of heat flashed through my body like wildfire, pushing out the cold that had suppressed my magic. It ignited my powers one by one, skill by skill. I felt my magic returning to me, filling that emptiness inside of me. Like a rollercoaster rolling faster and faster, magic exploded inside of me, and my knees gave out.

Nero caught me. His hands burned against the naked skin on my shoulders. “Steady.”

My eyes panned up the ripped and rugged contours of his chest. My fingers followed, snagging on a slash in his jacket.

“We need to heal you,” I said, feeling dizzy.

“I’m fine now.”

I peeled back the fabric and, sure enough, his skin was perfectly smooth. Any cuts he’d once had were gone now. My gaze lifted, meeting eyes that burned with green fire.

There was a flash of magic, and then we were somewhere else. Somewhere dark. I blinked, my supernatural senses slowly returning to me.

We were back in New York, I realized. I recognized the alleyway, even at this late hour. I’d once cornered a pair of rogue vampires here. We were only a block away from the Legion’s New York office. The gods had sent us back here, just like that.