“Do you know what’s odd?” Vikram spoke at length, turning to face Ruban directly. “Based on my conversations with him, both on and off camera, I do think Viman really believes his own propaganda. That reinforced sif is the key that’ll finally unlock the dream of lasting peace between Aeriels and humans. Between earth and Vaan. He’s convinced that conquering Vaan is the only way to achieve enduring peace. The kind that won’t be dismantled every time a vankrai goes off the rails.

“Beyond preventing the birth of vankrai, he doesn’t seem to harbor much ill will against Aeriels. To him, subjugating Vaan is simply a means to an end. Nothing more.”

“And does he not understand that after six hundred years of bloody conflict, humans and Aeriels harbor deep-seated prejudices against each other?” Simani cut in. “That if one side conquers the other, gains absolute power, that power will be abused. Even if those who set up the power structure didn’t intend for the abuse to happen. Even if it’s illegal. That’s just how people work. They won’t forget centuries of animosity, just because the government instructed them to do so.”

“No, I don’t think he does understand it,” Vikram said. “Nor do his fans and followers. That’s the gist of the problem. They genuinely believe they’re fighting for a utopia where the conquered and the conquerors can live together in harmony. Without hurting or taking advantage of each other.”

“Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims will be the most oppressive.” Ashwin murmured, shattering the heavy silence that followed Vikram’s words. “For those who torment us ‘for our own good’, do so with the approval of their own conscience.”

Ruban squinted at the Aeriel. “Why’re you talking like that?”

“Like what?” Ashwin asked. A tiny smile played on his lips.

“Like the overwrought narrator of a historical drama,” Simani supplied helpfully.

“Maybe because he’s quoting one.” Vikram laughed. “A historical drama, I mean. That’s a direct quote from one of the most famous playwrights of pre-Rebellion Vandram.” He turned to Ashwin. “I didn’t realize you were a theater enthusiast.”

“I’m not. But Maya used to be.” His smile dimmed slightly. “Or, well, she was singularly enthusiastic about this one playwright. Would read all his works out to us, over and over again. Would drag us to the theaters any time one of his plays was being staged. Now that I think back on it, I’m pretty sure she had a crush on him.” Wistfulness colored his voice. “It’s…reassuring. To know that his works have stood the test of time.”

Rising quietly, Ashwin gathered the used utensils and vanished into the kitchen.

Simani moved to follow him. But Vikram pressed a hand to her knee, holding her back.

“Why do you think he invited you to his show?” Ruban asked Vikram, after a moment. “Viman Rai, I mean. It’s not like there’s any shortage of so-called ‘experts’ willing to back up his unhinged theories. Dhriti Pathak being the foremost among them. I don’t understand why he’d risk having you and Dawad appear on his show. He couldn’t have seriously thought you’d agree with him.”

“Oh, I think he did.” Vikram sank back into the plush embrace of the sofa, pulling Simani close. “Expect me to agree with him, that is. I think he expected me to hold a grudge against Ashwin.”

Nestled against him, Simani stiffened. “Hold a grudge? You?” Her voice was incredulous. “Over what? Where did he get that idea?”

“Over you, actually.” Vikram’s grip tightened playfully around her shoulders. “Viman seemed to think I’d hold a grudge over what happened at that godforsaken fair in Central Ragah.”

“But that was an accident.” Simani protested immediately. “Or, well, I suppose not entirely an accident. But Ashwin certainly wasn’t the one to blame for it.”

“Be that as it may. Love isn’t always logical.” A smile tugged on Vikram’s lips. “Being the man Viman Rai is, I’m not surprised he expected some more…husbandly outrage, on my end.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Simani chuckled. “I’m almost offended you didn’t hold a grudge. A little one wouldn’t have hurt, would it?”

“It’s too late for regrets now,” Vikram quipped, burying his nose in Simani’s hair. “I’m not the grudge-holding type. If that’s what you wanted, you should’ve married Ruban instead. He’s excellent at holding grudges. World’s top three, at least. If not the reigning champion.”

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Ruban chucked a bright orange throw pillow at him, right on cue.

Vikram retaliated with a pillow of his own, aiming for Ruban’s face.

Simani held a finger gun to each of their heads, glaring.

By the time Ashwin returned with a tray of spiked sweet tea, blue and orange cushions littered the floor. The three of them barely clung to their seats, convulsing with laughter.

“I see now we’ve severely underestimated your grudge-holding capacity.” Ruban told Vikram, giggles punctuating his speech. “Although I don’t understand why you think wrecking my living room is appropriate payback…for Ashwin accidentally murdering your wife. Well, almost murdering.”

“If you think this is payback,” Vikram leered, caught in a headlock by Simani. “You haven’t seen nothin’ yet, my friend.”

“If only the media and the Cabinet could see us right now,” Simani sighed, easing her death grip on her husband. “Rifaq Nazir wouldn’t be so worried about Aeriel conspiracies and the ‘eroding integrity of the Hunter Corps’, then.”

“You’d think he’d be more grateful,” Ruban snorted, taking a sip of the chilled, rum-infused tea. “After all the trouble we went through, to keep his handsome head attached to his body. All this hand-wringing about Safaa’s ‘extravagant’ display of power. It wouldn’t have made the slightest difference, if any one of those first few shells had struck their target.”

“Oh, I think he is grateful.” Vikram reached for his own tea, having freed himself of Simani. “In his own Rifaq-ish way. There’s a reason he hasn’t been on CXN even once, since the debacle at the stadium. And it’s not for lack of trying, on Viman’s part. But you know,” he shrugged, taking his first sip. “It couldn’t have been easy on Rifaq’s ego. Having his life saved by the Aeriel prince, of all people. There’s bound to be an…adjustment period.”

“I’m happy to wait for him to adjust,” Ruban said. “Just so long as he doesn’t buy into Viman’s theories about the ‘necessity’ of conquering Vaan. And eradicating the vankrai. Which is the way he seems to be leaning, these days.”

“It’s the way half the country is leaning, these days,” Vikram groaned. “Viman knows how to orchestrate a propaganda campaign. I’ll give him that.”

“All that video footage of Safaa killing three Aeriels with a single shell probably didn’t help,” Simani said glumly. “It’s only slightly less hair-raising on screen than it was in person. At the time, it felt like the world was exploding around me.” She snuggled into Vikram’s side once more. “We can’t really blame civilians for being alarmed by the sight. Even without Viman Rai’s incendiary theories, those videos would’ve had an impact.”

Well, they’d undeniably had an impact.

Almost every poll and survey showed the same results. The vast majority of the Vandran public was amenable to an alliance with Vaan. Provided the ‘threat’ of the vankrai was ‘appropriately handled’.

Not that most were as extreme as Viman Rai. Particularly in urban circles, many found his rhetoric distasteful. Too inflammatory.

But even in the most liberal university campuses of Ragah, the popular opinion was that the vankrai needed to be tracked and monitored. At least during the initial years of the alliance.

And there were, of course, those that positively reveled in the idea of conquering Vaan and subjugating its inhabitants. Turning the tables on their former rulers. Wielding absolute power over those who’d once held power over them. Or, over their ancestors, to be precise.

Thankfully, their numbers weren’t as great as Ruban had once feared. And dwindling every day.

The botched meeting at the stadium, which had tarnished Safaa’s reputation, had simultaneously elevated Ashwin’s to new heights.

Half the population had already been in love with him, since the Dimuri ambush video went viral. And the remaining half had fallen in love after watching him fend off a horde of Exiles, risking his own life, to protect Rifaq.

No sooner had he finished that thought than the prince of Vaan made his presence known.

In a fluid motion, Ashwin reclaimed his spot across from Vikram. “Perhaps the simplest solution is the one suggested by Viman Rai, himself.”

“And what might that be?” Ruban asked, suspicious.

“A visit to Vaan. A face-to-face dialogue between Safaa and Viman. It’s what he wants. And I’m willing to let him have it. He can judge for himself if she’s as dangerous as he fears. And more importantly, his viewers can.” Ashwin said. “He can bring his camera crew along, record the meeting. I’d prefer it if he did. Vaan hasn’t anything to hide, and this is as good an opportunity to prove that as we’ll ever get. Transparency really might be the best policy, in this situation.”

“You’re mad,” Ruban said, succinct. “The most vocal advocate for the conquest of Vaan – and you want to give him free access to it? That seem like a good idea to you? Because, from where I’m sitting, it looks suicidal.”

Ashwin blinked at him, uncomprehending. “What do you think he can do? Surrounded by Shehzaa and the other generals? He’s a newscaster, after all. Albeit one with an…unusually aggressive rhetoric.” He glanced from Ruban to Simani, his lips quirking. “It can’t possibly be riskier than inviting not one, but two of this country’s most accomplished Hunters into the Aeriel homeland.”

“Two-and-a-half, to be precise.” Simani interjected. “Vik’s basically half a Hunter, at this point.”

“God forbid.” Vikram gave a dramatic little shudder.

“But even if Viman Rai really was dangerous,” Ashwin continued, ignoring their theatrics. “Vaan would still be the safest place for them to meet.”

“The question is not if, but how.” Ruban muttered. “As in, how dangerous is he?”

“I understand your concern, Ruban,” Ashwin said mildly. “And if there was any other way to stop his smear campaign against my sister, I’d take it. But there isn’t, is there? He can’t be bribed or seduced into changing his tune. Because he’s not driven by greed or self-interest. He truly believes the vankrai pose an existential threat to humanity. And he’s immersed himself in an echo-chamber so all-encompassing, he’s deaf to any voices that’d contradict that belief.”

“And you really think seeing Vaan with his own eyes would change his mind?” Simani asked, skeptical.

“Well, it changed Ruban’s, didn’t it? And if there’s one man in Vandram more intransigent than Viman Rai,” Ashwin sipped his tea. “It’s Ruban Kinoh.”