“You should’ve let me die,” Ruban roared, slamming Ashwin violently against the wall that bordered the hospital premises. “Rather than risking her life. Who the hell gave you permission to trade her life for mine?”

Ruban didn’t remember much of what had happened in the last few hours.

After the detonation of the three energy-shells, he’d waded through the dust and debris to reach the other Hunters. All but tripping over the corpse of the Aeriel that’d been hovering over them only a moment ago.

He’d been dazed, his ears ringing from the three back-to-back explosions. His shoulder throbbed painfully, and his left foot didn’t seem to be functioning as it should. There was a piercing pain somewhere close to his liver.

And none of it mattered, the moment he caught a glimpse of Simani—

Lying unnaturally still in a pool of her own blood, eyes staring blankly at the late-afternoon sky. Her uniform was charred in several spots, fresh scorch marks and blisters marring what was visible of her abdomen.

For a moment, Ruban thought she was dead.

It’d taken him a few seconds to notice the shallow rise and fall of her chest.

One thing was obvious from the nature of her injuries. She’d taken a direct hit from an energy-shell, and a powerful one at that.

“There shouldn’t have been a risk to her life,” Ashwin retorted, defiant. “She was nowhere close to that Aeriel. If anyone was at risk, it was you. You were inches from the X-class.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Ruban snarled, refusing to slacken his grip on the collar of Ashwin’s cloak.

“If the shell aimed at the X-class had veered even slightly off course, it’d have hit you.” Ashwin explained patiently. “You were the one at risk. Simani and that other Hunter were standing several paces behind the Aeriel I killed. They weren’t at risk of anything – at least nothing worse than getting splattered by his innards.

“Even if my shell had missed its target, there’s no way it’d have veered far enough off to hit Simani instead. And considering the Aeriel is dead,” his voice rose slightly for emphasis. “Clearly the shell did hit its target.”

Ruban glared at him. “Who the hell asked you to interfere in my Hunt?” he demanded. “What were you doing there, anyway? If it wasn’t for your interference—”

“If it wasn’t for my interference, you’d be dead.” Ashwin returned Ruban’s glare with a scowl of his own. “And with you out of the way—”

“With me out of the way she’d at least be safe,” Ruban snarled. “Not lying unconscious on an ICU bed, fighting for her life. Is this some sort of twisted revenge?” He let go of Ashwin and took a few steps back, his movements abrupt and jerky. “For choosing her over you at the Ghorib mines last year? For leaving you with Janak Nath?”

Ashwin flinched, as if he’d been slapped. He opened his mouth to respond. But for once, he seemed unable to find the words to articulate his feelings.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Before the argument could advance any further, Ruban spotted Vikram walking towards them. He strode down the path from the main hospital building, eyes fixed on the phone in his hand.

The lower half of his face, usually clean-shaven, was covered in stubble. His eyes were bloodshot and framed by dark shadows. His hair was in disarray, and the hem of his light gray shirt was stained with something that looked suspiciously like dried blood.

The sight of him made Ruban’s heart twist painfully in his chest, a fresh onslaught of guilt and self-recrimination battering at his defenses.

“Any news?” Ruban asked, his voice shaky, when Vikram finally came to a stop before him. “Have you had a chance to speak to the doctors again?”

Vikram shook his head, frowning, eyes still on his phone.

He looked even more haggard up close – his clothes stained, spectacles askew, and the dark circles around his eyes more pronounced. Even the lines on his forehead seemed more prominent, making him look older and more careworn than he had yesterday.

He’d been here less than four hours, but somehow looked like he hadn’t slept in days. When he looked up from his phone, anxiety and trepidation warred for dominance in his eyes.

Taking him in, Ruban felt a strange combination of guilt, relief, and embarrassment at his own outburst. If anyone had the right to be angry, it was Vik. Yet, he’d been nothing but perfectly polite to both him and Ashwin, since he got to the hospital. Perhaps that was only because he was too worried about Simani to spare either of them a second thought. Or perhaps because he was a better friend than either of them deserved. Whatever the case may be, the least Ruban could do for Vik was not add to the list of his problems, by making a scene at the hospital.

“What they’re doing is no less than a smear campaign.” Vikram’s voice was strained, knuckles white around the phone in his hand. “You should speak to Raizada about this. Lodge an official complaint. This blatant slander can’t possibly be legal.”

Ruban stared at him. “What?”

“The media has lost its mind. They’re saying…” Vikram shook his head. “Viman Rai is at the forefront of it, as expected. After you two blindsided him on his own show last month, he wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass him by. But he’s not the only one indulging in the mudslinging. Casia Washi is one of the only exceptions, but the rest of WNN is just as bad.”

“Vik,” Ruban interrupted, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Vikram held out the phone to him. “They’re saying it was deliberate.” His voice was soft, but the undercurrent of fury in it was hard to miss. “What happened to Sim. They’re making it look like you planned it. That you wanted her to get injured, maybe even killed, so she’d be out of your way. That this Hunt was just a ruse, a conspiracy with Vaan to help you get rid of her.”

“What?” Ruban repeated, staring blankly at Vikram.

At length, he gathered the willpower to take the phone Vik had been holding out to him for God only knew how long.

The screen was overflowing with videos and articles with sensational titles – some of them in all caps – about how Ruban had conspired with the prince of Vaan to get his partner killed. All because she was, supposedly, against the alliance between Vaan and Vandram.

Even the most sympathetic portrayals seemed to imply he’d come under the spell of the prince, and that his part in the ‘conspiracy’ was born more out of incompetence than malice.

Many of the more hardline commentators, however, were convinced that Ruban had all but planned Simani’s murder. Had deliberately set a trap for her and simply gotten the Aeriel prince to pull the trigger, so to speak.

Handing the phone back to Vikram, Ruban shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. They can say what they want. Let them. We can’t be wasting time thinking about this right now.”

“You can’t ignore this,” Vikram said. “If you let these people carry on with their insinuations—”

Ruban waved a hand, dismissing the topic, and began walking back towards the hospital. “It doesn’t matter, Vik. We’ll handle it once she’s recovered.”

Vikram exchanged a look with Ashwin, who’d been leaning quietly against the boundary wall for the duration of their conversation. Then, with a slight shake of his own head, he turned around and followed Ruban back into the hospital, leaving the Aeriel behind.