Vikram leaned back against a massive pillar decorated with ephemeral, ever-changing patterns woven from gleaming silver threads. “If only it were that simple. For one thing, there isn’t a single human government, as I’m sure you know. And while there hasn’t been a war between the three nations in over a century, we still disagree on plenty of things.

“But more importantly, none of those governments would be inclined to listen to anything you might say, at the moment. Anti-Aeriel sentiment is at an all-time high, thanks to Tauheen’s antics last year. And what happened last night at Reivaa’s castle won’t improve public perception, in any way.

“Humans aren’t used to thinking of Aeriels as anything but a monolith. It’s been six hundred years since we’ve had any reason to. It wouldn’t matter who fought on which side. Warring Aeriels cause death and destruction – that’s what all the headlines for the foreseeable future are going to scream.”

“I see the problem,” Ashwin said, combing a hand through his silky, newly-untangled hair. “What would you suggest is the solution?”

His eyes focusing abruptly on Ashwin, Vikram smirked. “You.”

“What?” Ruban demanded, looking from one to the other.

Simani looked equally bemused. “Vik, darling, what’re you–”

“No, listen,” Vikram held up a hand, eyes still intent on Ashwin. “We all agree that Vaan needs a suitable representative on earth. A…well, an official ambassador, tasked with creating goodwill between humans and Aeriels.

“Somebody who knows his way around the planet, has friends in the government and the media, and can hold his own during a TV interview or press conference.” His smirk grew wider as he spoke. “Could even, if he really put his mind to it, become a media darling over the course of a single monsoon. And have some of the most popular journalists in the country eating out of the palm of his hand.

“Someone who just so happens to hold an important position within Vaan’s government, and could speak on behalf of its queen.” Vikram looked around, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Ring a bell, anybody?”

“But-but he’s Ashwin,” Ruban blurted, unable to think of a more pertinent objection than that.

“Well, yes. That would need some explaining, wouldn’t it?” Vikram murmured thoughtfully. “We’d have to address it sooner or later. Or we leave ourselves vulnerable to blackmail by every cocky whizz-kid who puts two and two together and wants to make some quick cash.”

“The IAW will kill him.” Simani glared at Vikram, her tone aghast. “And none of us will ever see the outside of a prison cell again, for conspiring with Aeriels.”

“Not if they were in on it. Not if the IAW were conspiring with us.”

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“What?” Ruban suppressed the urge to knock Vik over the head with the nearest solid object.

“With the arrival of the firebirds, and the sheer scale of the devastation around Reivaa’s castle, there’s no way they could conceal Vaan’s involvement from the public. And despite all the rabble-rousing over the past year, I don’t believe most of the Cabinet actually wants to go to war.”

“Of course not.” Ruban scoffed. “They only talk grandiose nonsense because they know they’ll never have to put their money where their mouth is.”

“That’s exactly my point. The government will be under pressure to take some kind of action. And how stupid do you think the IAW would look, if it came to light that an Aeriel – the prince of Vaan, no less – had been fraternizing with the who’s who of the media and the Hunter Corps for over a year, without their knowledge?”

“I see.” Ruban frowned. “I suppose they wouldn’t want all that to be discovered, but–”

“It’d be much more palatable for everyone if, early last year, the leaders of Vaan and Vandram had decided to work together to combat the threat presented by Tauheen.” Vikram’s lips quirked into a devious smile. “Safaa – the legitimate queen – had deployed her brother to work in liaison with the IAW. At first, he’d been tasked with investigating the media’s involvement in the conspiracy, before the IAW brass wisely decided to partner him with the best Hunter in Ragah.”

“And what makes you so sure they’ll agree to any of this?” Simani asked, though her tone was slightly less skeptical than before.

Vikram shrugged, his attention on the kaleidoscopic patterns of light forming and dissolving repeatedly on every surface. “The new Senior Secretary of Defence did pull quite a few strings to protect Janak Nath and keep your team away from that smuggler Farid, didn’t she? I don’t think she’d want that coming out, on top of everything else.”

Simani spluttered, indignant. “We can’t just blackmail–”

“You can’t,” Ashwin agreed, grinning. “And you shouldn’t. But I can and I will. None of you have to be involved. As far as I’m concerned, Ruban knew exactly as much about my identity as anyone else at the IAW. The same goes for you and Vikram, of course.”

Safaa turned to Ashwin, an eyebrow arched. “You agree to this, then?”

“You’re the queen, sister dear. Do you want me to?”

“It’s as good a scheme as any we’ve come up with.” She held out her hands. “And you know as well as I do, we need a plan of action. We can no longer hide behind the gates of Vaan and hope for the best, not with that damned formula on the verge of completion. And your friend isn’t wrong. If I must send an official representative to earth–”

“I’m the best of the bad hand you’ve been dealt.” Ashwin unfurled his wings languidly, fluffing them out as he spoke. “Better me than Shehzaa or Qwaan, that’s for certain. And the rest of your court hasn’t been down there in centuries.

“Well.” He lifted off, his natural ebullience reasserting itself. “As far as postings go, I’ve had worse.”

Ruban let out a long breath, allowing himself to be whisked away from the Luminous Realms and its otherworldly inhabitants.

Even before his feet had hit the ground, the sounds and aromas of home suffused his senses.

Utensils clattered to the floor as Hiya threw herself into Ashwin’s arms, her curry-soaked fingers digging into his pristine new cloak. Sri exited the kitchen at a run and flung himself at Simani, who scooped him up with a muffled sob.

Soon, Vikram’s mother – who’d been watching the kids in their absence – tottered out and ordered them all to the tiny, overflowing kitchen table. Retracting his wings, Ashwin slipped unobtrusively into the bathroom.

In a haze of relief and exhaustion, Ruban ate, talked, laughed, and bullied Hiya into finishing her vegetables.

He was safe, warm, and full. His friends were alive and (relatively) unhurt.

It’d been a long time since he’d dared hope for anything so glorious.

Tomorrow would bring its own problems. But he was going to relish this day – this moment – for all he was worth.