I’d been relieved to find neither Ivy’s nor Drake’s name on the roster. They’d been promoted recently, so I hoped they were safe from Colonel Fireswift’s cullings until Nero returned. I wasn’t going to believe the rumors that he wasn’t coming back. He had to come back. He couldn’t leave us here at Colonel Fireswift’s mercy.

Drake and his girlfriend Lucy were standing behind one of the giant urns. She was crouched over, as though she hoped the enormous sticks and the scent of oranges could hide her. Lucy was on the list. She’d been with us from the beginning. She was sweet, friendly, and quiet, and she loved to read romantic tales. She was an all-around nice person. And I feared she didn’t stand a chance.

Lucy’s hands were shaking, and her pale face was sticky with sweat. A harsh, overly-sweet scent rose from her. Fear. She was scared out of her wits. As Drake wrapped his arm around her back, drawing her against him, she lowered her head to his shoulder and began to sob softly.

She wasn’t ready, and she was going to die. I had to do something. I had to help her. But what could I do? Colonel Fireswift had put her name on the list, and no one, least of all me, would be able to convince him to take it off again.

Before coming down to the ballroom, I’d tried to call Nero, but his phone wasn’t on. It went straight to voicemail. I’d left him two million messages. But what would he do even if he heard the messages? Nyx had put Colonel Fireswift in charge here. Technically, Nero couldn’t do anything, but maybe he would have an idea. Nero always knew all the loopholes to every rule. Gods, I wished I knew the rules as well as he did. Then I would have known the loopholes too. And maybe one of those could have saved Lucy.

But I wasn’t Nero. I was just the girl with a million different wild ideas on how to help my friend, but not one of them would work. Even if I got Lucy out of here, then what? The Legion would brand her a traitor and hunt her down. And the same for me. But there had to be a way. There was always a way.

Jace stopped beside me, the expression on his face mirroring exactly how I felt: helpless. “My father’s missions just might kill me.”

“That angel will be the death of us all,” I declared.

“He wants me to be the one to capture Osiris Wardbreaker. He says the First Angel won’t be able to ignore such an act, and I might finally come out of your shadow.”

“Since when are you in my shadow? You are better than I am at everything.”

“Not everything. You’re always the one to save the day, a fact my father reminds me of every time I see him.”

“No offense, but your father is a psychopath,” I told him. “He crucified his own son to the wall to teach him a ‘lesson’. I know you say he’s just following the old ways, but I think there’s something to be said for leaving those old ways in the past.”

Jace looked at me and sighed. “He wants to push me to the top of the Legion no matter what it takes, no matter the risks. And he will never forgive me if you become an angel before I do. He sees it as a blow to his honor for a nobody to make it up the ranks before his own son.”

“Honor or pride?” I asked.

“Both.” Jace took a sip from his drink, and from the smell of it, it was heavily alcoholic. “I have the same problem, you know. The same flaw. I would stab you in the back if it meant a promotion.”

“Then it’s a good thing I sleep with a knife under my pillow,” I quipped.

“I’m not kidding, Leda. I wouldn’t stab you in the back literally, but you shouldn’t trust me.”

“Nero told me the same thing,” I said. “But I think the fact that you can admit this to yourself means you won’t do it. You are a better person than that.”

“No.” He shook his head sadly. “I’m not. Do you know what the first thing I thought was when I heard how you’d nearly been blown up on that airship? I was jealous. Jealous that we’d worked on the mission together, but it was you who got to be there on that airship to save the day. It was you who got to be the hero.”

“Are you done?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, so first of all, you need to just stop feeling guilty. Those evil thoughts and emotions you’re tearing yourself up over—you know what? They’re normal. It’s called being human. And we all get them.”

“Not you,” he said. “My father thinks you’re the personification of sin, but you’re not. You’re a saint.”

I laughed. “Are you sure you want to keep drinking that? You’re talking nonsense. I’m definitely not a saint.”

“You’re never jealous.”

“I’m jealous all the time. Jealous of Ivy’s boobs. Of Drake’s strength. Of your ability to fight with any weapon. Of that stupid pink-haired fairy…”

“What pink-haired fairy?”

I shook my head. “Never mind. My point is I’m jealous all the time. And a bunch of other nasty things too. Human, remember.”

“My father says humanity is a weakness.”

“Which is why your father is a psychopath who tortures his own soldiers and plays mind games with his own son.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Maybe not, but I’m going to say it’s that simple because I want to, and I’m just a flawed human who holds grudges and is jealous of everyone here for at least something.”

“Even Lieutenant Lawrence?” The corner of his mouth twitched.