She was cut off mid-sentence by a strangled gasp from around ten yards away. We both turned to see another Selection girl standing in front of Ambassador Wolff, whose face was contorted with disgust as he looked down at his stained jacket.
The whole room seemed to pause for a moment, conversations faltering as people noticed.
“Oh my god,” Madeline muttered. “I think Jana just threw up on Ambassador Wolff.”
“Oh no.” I winced as I watched Jana cover her mouth, chest heaving. She suddenly dropped to her knees and vomited directly into a large potted fern that sat near the ambassador's feet. “She’s going to be removed over this, isn’t she?”
“Definitely.” Madeline sighed. “Two months of training, right down the drain. Her Reaper is going to be pissed to the max when he hears.”
“Poor Jana,” I said, shaking my head. “She’s going to feel so awful.”
“Well, she can’t say I didn’t warn her.”
I turned back to Madeline. “What do you mean?”
She lowered her voice, moving her head a little closer. “She told me earlier that she hasn’t eaten all day. Barely had any water, either. She didn’t want to look bloated in her dress,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And now look what’s happened. A few glasses of champagne later and she’s vomiting all over diplomats.”
One of the instructors—Mrs. Astor—appeared at Jana’s side a moment later. With a few quiet words and a guiding hand on thearm, the younger woman was escorted toward a side exit. She looked mortified, tears streaming down her face.
The room was quiet for another moment, save for a few whispers and the sound of staff members quickly appearing to clean up the mess. Then, like a hive-minded organism, everyone suddenly continued as if nothing had happened.
Madeline and I exchanged glances, then both looked away. There was nothing to say. We'd just witnessed someone's future crumble because she couldn't adequately prepare herself for a high-stakes event or hold her liquor.
Two more hours, I told myself.Just hold it together for two more hours.
I straightened my shoulders, touched the emerald pendant at my throat for reassurance, and stepped back into the crowd.
By the time the last guests finally began to depart, I was bone-tired.
My feet ached despite the reasonable heels, and my face hurt from smiling. I'd had the same conversation about my studies approximately twelve times, had dodged three more potential traps from people I suspected were plants, and had consumed exactly one and a half glasses of champagne over four hours. But I'd made it past midnight.
I caught a glimpse of the other Selection girls scattered throughout the thinning crowd. Madeline looked tired but relieved. Another girl was still deep in conversation with an older woman, her smile looking slightly strained.
We'd all survived. Well, all except Jana.
Finally, the last of the guests were gone, and Mrs. Astor appeared at the center of the ballroom and raised her hands for attention.
“Ladies,” she said, her voice carrying easily. “If you would please follow me.”
We fell into step behind her and moved through familiar corridors, but instead of going toward our suites, we headed down stone steps, into the depths of the estate. To the ritual chamber.
The room was exactly as I remembered from the Eleusinian ritual; ancient stone walls, flickering torchlight, the sense of stepping back in time to something primal and unchanging.
We were instructed to line up, and I stood between Madeline and another girl named Emilia. Mrs. Astor stood before us, flanked by two other instructors. Behind them, I could just make out the senior Council members in the shadows, silently observing.
“For the past four hours, you have been observed by members of our community, by trusted associates, and by individuals specifically placed to test your discretion and judgment,” Mrs. Astor began.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
“Most of you managed to avoid catastrophic failure,” she continued. “However, performance among you varied significantly. Some of you made minor errors. Using incorrect forms of address, revealing slightly too much about your personal circumstances, appearing uncertain or overeager.”
I tried to remember everything I'd said tonight. Had I tried too hard during any of my conversations and come across as overeager or disingenuous? Had I revealed too much to someone?
She paused, and the silence in the chamber was absolute.
“I’m going to call out three names, and I’d like those girls to step forward,” she finally went on. “Miss Ashworth.”
A girl three positions down from me stepped forward, her face carefully neutral.
