Thank God it’s Tuesday.

That was all Ruban could think as he dodged and parried the incessant attacks of Aeriel and human assailants on the roof of Select City, the largest shopping mall in Ragah.

There wasn’t a day in the week when the Select City Walk was deserted. But had the mafia struck on a weekend, hundreds of bodies would’ve littered Kanla Park, which surrounded the mall and was popular among tourists and locals alike.

With the sun beating down on a hot Tuesday afternoon, however, Select City and its surroundings were as uncrowded as they could ever be. And the Hunter Corps had been able to intervene in time to prevent more than a handful of casualties.

At the other end of the roof, Simani was using Ashwin as a shield to singlehandedly launch an attack on the mafia’s Aeriels. There were fewer Aeriels now than there typically would’ve been, during one of the Qawirsin’s Hunts.

The attack on their stronghold in the Kitenga Hills had been a major blow to the Qawirsin, driving them temporarily underground.

This had emboldened the other gangs in the area. Ragah was now plagued by random, small-scale, unorganized Hunts that seemed to erupt spontaneously around the city. They were less lethal than the Qawirsin’s activities, but no less of a headache for Ruban and his team.

Simani pulled back her arm to throw a sifkren at an Aeriel looming inches above their heads. Grabbing her by the waist, Ashwin spun her around. Simani yelped. The sifkren flew out from between her fingers and struck another Aeriel – an X-class – fighting a team of Hunters on the roof of a nearby building.

With the sifkren buried in its wing, the Aeriel fell out of the air, the burgeoning energy shell on the palm of its hand dissipating rapidly. The Hunters it’d been about to blast into oblivion grabbed the opportunity, skewering their fallen opponent from all sides.

The Aeriel Ashwin had spared through his timely intervention offered him a slight nod and flew away.

“That was one of the good guys,” Ashwin said, in response to Simani’s murderous glare. “My sister’s scout. I didn’t want you to waste your sifkren on friendly fire. The mafia’s trying to Hunt her down for her feathers, but she’s no threat to any human.”

“And the other one? The one I hit?”

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“Oh, that’s an Exile. And he would’ve killed those Hunters if you hadn’t hit him when you did.”

The sharp report of a gunshot behind him made Ruban whirl, weapons at the ready. A large, heavily tattooed thug lay crumpled on the floor, his fingers twitching as they struggled to reach a handgun lying inches away.

The young man Ruban had been sparring with gasped audibly and made a run for it.

Lifting his gaze, Ruban saw a majestic Aeriel with dark, silver-flecked eyes hovering in the air, above the fallen gangster. A vankrai. He drew his sifblade and braced for an attack. But it never came.

Instead, the vankrai gave him a critical once-over, then flitted over to the other side of the roof, where Ashwin was helping Simani disarm the last of the assailants in the building.

Simani tensed as she saw the Aeriel approach, reaching instinctively for her sifblade. Ashwin reached out and placed a hand over hers.

Grudgingly, she relented. As the vankrai moved closer, she held still, her blade sheathed. The tension in the air was palpable.

Moments later, the vankrai came to an abrupt stop, its back against the parapet.

“Minister Qwaan.” Ashwin’s lips quirked upwards. “Thank you.” He glanced over at the fallen thug who’d attempted to take a shot at Ruban. “Your help is appreciated.”

The vankrai inclined its head in acknowledgement. Then, it stepped closer and pulled Ashwin into a kiss, brief yet intense.

Ruban blinked. The look of horrified fascination on Simani’s face probably reflected his own.

When the two Aeriels broke apart, Ashwin dabbed at his lips, laughing. “Well, that was a long time coming. We missed you at the palace, Shehzaa and I.” He looked around. “Where is she?”

“Busy training your sister’s scouts,” Qwaan sighed. “But she wanted me to convey a message to you.”

Ashwin raised an eyebrow. “Now?”

“It couldn’t wait. Safaa’s agents have brought news that Janak Nath and his men are planning to raid the Ghorib mines – most likely to replenish their stock of reinforced sif ores. You and your–” he glanced at the Hunters. “Friends…should be prepared.”

Fists clenched, Ruban stalked over to the other side of the roof. “And how do we know we can trust these ‘agents’ of hers?” he growled, his nose inches from Qwaan’s. “It’s not like Safaa ever feels the need to pass on any information unless it suits her purposes.”

The vankrai arched a brow. “Then you should be grateful that in this instance, her purposes are aligned with yours. If the queen did not wish to help you, do you really think she would’ve allowed you entry into Vaan? Much less sent you her own brother as a liaison?”

“Wait!” Simani gaped at him. “You’ve been to Vaan?”

Ruban waved her off. “So why does she not send some of her troops down here to lend us a hand?”

“She sends her scouts, only for them to be killed and branded by humans. What do you think would happen if she sent soldiers, willing and able to fight back? Your cities would be leveled before your government could lift a finger to prevent it.” The vankrai unfurled its gigantic, speckled wings in a rustle of feathers. “You should be careful what you wish for, Ruban Kinoh.”

When Qwaan was no more than a speck in the bright afternoon sky, Simani turned to Ashwin. “Well, if anybody caught that on camera, we’ll be neck deep in scandal by tomorrow morning.” She shrugged. “But at least you have good taste.”