The throne room, if possible, was an even more artsy version of the auditorium where they had arrived. Ruban was beginning to see what Dawad had meant when he said that Aeriels were more interested in making pretty designs than ruling. Standing in the Vaan Court, he could almost believe it. It looked more like the dream studio of a quirky artist than the administrative centre of a warlike race.

A gesture from Safaa ensured that the three of them were left alone in the room. The bird had winged it to wherever firebirds went when they weren’t throwing death-glares at unsuspecting humans. And the other courtiers just seemed to shimmer away in groups of twos and threes, but not before throwing him curious, searching glances that lingered for longer than Ruban was entirely comfortable with. He supposed they thought they were being surreptitious.

Finally, he looked up at Safaa, sitting cross-legged at the head of the throne-room. Oddly, the first word that popped into his head when he laid eyes on her was ‘proper’. He couldn’t say what it was about her, really, but she seemed…familiar in a way. He could imagine her sitting at the head of the table, leading one of the numerous conferences they kept getting sent to every year for retraining and sensitivity workshops. She seemed like a leader, or a leader as a human would understand the concept. He didn’t think most Aeriels shared humanity’s notion of leadership, though. Not if this court was anything to go by. Safaa’s courtiers had looked – and acted – more like a gang of giggling teenagers than the heads of administration of a realm.

To his surprise, Ruban almost sympathised with the Aeriel Queen. He could only imagine trying to run a government with a roomful of Ashwins for subordinates. He did not envy her.

Her magnificent wings flaring behind her, Safaa lifted herself off the throne and flew across the room to land a few feet in front of Ruban and her brother.

If Ruban had thought Ashwin’s wings impressive, they had nothing on his sister’s. Her wingspan alone was nearly twice that of her brother’s, the brilliance of her feathers unlike anything he had ever seen on earth or Vaan, and that included Tauheen in all her twisted magnificence. Like the latter, three tiny red marks stained the tips of Safaa’s wings.

‘Two Aeriel Queens for the first time in history’, Dawad’s voice rang in his ears.

Now that she was closer to him, Ruban realised that Safaa’s eyes resembled her mother’s more than they did Ashwin’s. They were black with flecks of silver, like stars sprinkled across the night-sky, unlike the pearly white of her brother’s irises. Her silver hair also had streaks of black in them. It felt as though if only he looked closely enough, he could almost spot the humanity in her.

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“Shwaan,” she said, snapping Ruban out of his trance, and promptly wrapped her arms around her brother, her large wings moving to partially encircle him. Ashwin made a sound that was half-way between a strangled bird and an enthusiastic puppy, before bringing his own arms awkwardly around his sister. It didn’t seem to come as naturally to him, but he gave it his best shot.

After a moment, Safaa stepped back to run a critical eye over the pair of them. “Ruban Kinoh,” she said, after a few seconds of strained silence. “A human has not set foot in Vaan in the last six-hundred years. So, what brings you here?”

“Your brother, essentially,” Ruban said. It was the truth, after all, presented as succinctly as he could manage. Hunter training had taught him that those were the two essentials of any good report – honesty and precision.

“My brother, indeed,” the queen said, turning back to Ashwin. “He has told me a lot about you, Mr. Kinoh.”

“Good things, I hope,” he returned, only half sardonically.

“Very. He seems to think highly of your abilities. Of you. Not that he always has the best judgement in these sorts of things. Still, I think I should thank you for all the help you’ve given us – knowingly or otherwise – in the quest to thwart our mother’s plans.”

“The goal is a mutual one, from what I understand.”

“I should hope so, yes.”

Safaa circled the two of them, talking conversationally all the while. Suddenly, as she passed her brother, her eyes narrowed. “What happened to your wing, Shwaan?” she asked softly, coming to an abrupt halt.

In the years since he had become a Hunter, Ruban had faced, without so much as a flinch, dangers far greater than what he was in now. Mortal peril was no stranger to him, hadn’t been since the day his house burned to the ground in front of his eyes. At this point, courage was not so much a virtue for him as a habit, a professional requirement like any other.

Yet, something in Safaa’s voice made Ruban’s blood run cold. Not so much because of what she could do to him, but because he understood why she would do it. Because if Safaa killed him now, it wouldn’t be for some personal agenda, or even the simple bloodlust of her exiled brethren. If she killed Ruban, it would be for the same reason he would have given anything to drive his blade through Reivaa’s guts in Zikyang. To protect the thing he loved.

Ruban wasn’t sure he could bring himself to fight back, if that happened. And the thought terrified him.

“Battle wound, sister dear,” Ashwin said with a dismissive flick of his hand, interrupting Ruban’s thoughts. “You know how it is.”

“Mother,” Safaa breathed, trembling with barely suppressed fury. “When I find her, Shwaan, I shall burn the heart out of her. She will pay for everything she has done to us.”