It was two-thirty in the morning, and Ruban stood on the roof of his apartment building. The cool night air brushed his face as he braced himself against the parapet, elbows resting atop the glazed brick coping.

The city sprawled beneath him, a tapestry of twinkling lights stretching out as far as the eye could see. A cigarette dangled between his lips, tendrils of smoke curling upward into the darkness.

He clutched the lighter in one hand, the cold metal biting into the clammy skin of his palm. In his other hand he held an Aeriel feather. One of Ashwin’s. One among the many he’d nonchalantly bestowed upon Hiya, over the years.

Soft and silvery, the feather glimmered faintly in the moonlight. Almost impossibly fine to the touch.

With a sigh, he brought the lighter closer to the feather. His hands not entirely steady, he applied pressure on the ignition lever to spark the flame.

He’d tried everything he could think of, in the last twelve hours. But had not been able to find Ashwin. So despite his misgivings, here he was, resorting to the only method he was sure would yield results.

A sharp click as the flint struck steel, igniting the released butane with a tiny pop. A small, bright flame burst forth and danced at the lighter’s tip.

Wings rustling in the cold night air, Ashwin materialized behind him. Half a second before the tiny flame kissed the feather.

His shoulders stiffening, Ruban released the lever. Letting the flame sputter and die. “Did you kill her?” he rasped, voice tight. Not daring to turn around. Not yet.

“I thought about it.” Ashwin answered after a beat. “In excruciating detail.” He drifted closer, finally joining Ruban at the parapet. “But no, she’s still alive.”

Ruban closed his eyes – whether in relief or disappointment, he didn’t know.

Dhriti Pathak was still alive. He supposed he should be glad of it. But try as he might, he couldn’t muster up the emotion. Only a slow unwinding of built-up tension, leaving him spent and strangely hollow. He pocketed the feather, thankfully unscathed. At least Hiya would be happy.

“Does-does Safaa know?” He took a shaky drag of his cigarette, then stubbed it out on the parapet.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ashwin give a slight shake of his head. “Not yet. I’ve spoken to Shehzaa. They’ll try to keep it off her radar for as long as possible. Which probably won’t be very long at all, knowing my sister.” After a beat, he turned to Ruban. “Does Hiya know?”

It was Ruban’s turn to shake his head. “Simani had Vik collect her from school, as soon as we saw the video. Sri too. They’ve both been at the Vaz residence all day.” He exhaled tiredly. “They’re sharp kids, both of them. I daresay they’ve realized something’s going on. But they don’t know what it is; haven’t watched the video. Not yet.”

“They’ll have to go back to school, eventually.” His face impassive, Ashwin surveyed the moonlit city below. “There won’t be any hiding it, then.”

A brief silence ensued.

“What do you think will happen…” Ruban spoke at last, stealing a glance at the Aeriel. “When they do find out? What is it you’re worried about?”

Ashwin’s lips twisted into a sardonic little smile. He said nothing.

Ruban didn’t press him for an answer. His voice soft and eyes fixed on the nocturnal cityscape below, he continued. “She adores you, you know. Hiya, I mean. Spends hours in the balcony, any time you haven’t visited for more than a couple of days.

“Those feathers you keep giving her, she treasures each one more than life itself. And not because of their skyrocketing market price.” His lips quirked. “Surely, you know all this. I practically had to fight her for the feather I was going to use tonight, to get your attention.” His fingers grazed the velvety feather nestled in his pocket. “There’s almost nothing you could do to make her stop looking at you like you hung the moon. And at least sixty percent of the stars. Believe me, I’ve been trying. For nearly three years, now. It doesn’t work.”

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Ashwin didn’t look at him, didn’t move. Gave no indication he’d heard Ruban. Until finally, a strained voice broke through the stillness. “This time, it’s not about what I could do. Or even what I did. Quite the opposite, in fact. It’s about what I didn’t do. Didn’t fight back. Didn’t even try. Even when – even after…” His voice trailed off, as if the words stuck in his throat, afraid to come out into the moonlit night.

Ruban stared straight ahead, unwilling (or perhaps unable) to meet Ashwin’s gaze. Dreading the expression he might see on the latter’s face.

Because there was truth to what he was saying. He hadn’t fought back. Hadn’t even tried. That was clear enough from the video. Perhaps he was outnumbered, injured. Perhaps he wouldn’t have won a fight with the entirety of the Qawirsin, in his condition.

But Ashwin hadn’t thrown a single punch. Hadn’t even tried to form an energy-shell, howsoever weak or ineffective. Had just lain there and taken it – taken whatever they were doing to him – like a lifeless ragdoll.

Had Ruban not known about Kaheen, about the reason behind Ashwin’s refusal to fight back… Would he have seen it as cowardice?

He realized with a twinge of surprise that no, he wouldn’t have.

Because he knew Ashwin. Knew that whatever else the Aeriel prince might be, he wasn’t a coward.

But the world did not know that. They hadn’t watched him confront death time and again to save those weaker than him. Those he considered to be his responsibility.

They would simply watch the video and draw the most obvious conclusion. Why delve deeper when a plausible, ready-made explanation lay at their fingertips? Why put in the extra effort?

Not that he could blame them, given how utterly useless he felt at the moment.

How could he explain Ashwin’s inaction to a child, or anyone else, without delving into his history with Kaheen? Into the horrible torment she’d endured during the Rebellion, and ever since. Into what Ashwin perceived as his betrayal of her, six hundred years ago. And his subsequent comeuppance at Reivaa’s castle last year.

Ashwin didn’t fight back against Janak Nath in order to protect Kaheen. But also because some part of him believed he was receiving just punishment…for abandoning her all those centuries ago.

But those were Kaheen’s secrets to reveal, not theirs. Certainly not Ruban’s.

And Ashwin would never willingly use Kaheen’s history to justify his own failure, his own perceived shortcomings.

“After all the times you’ve saved her, saved all of us…” Ruban began, once it was clear Ashwin wasn’t going to continue. “Do you really believe Hiya would judge you for this? For being unable to save yourself? The only reason you were trapped there, with Janak Nath, was because you’d surrendered yourself to protect Simani.” He swallowed and turned slightly to face the Aeriel. “And me. Do you think she doesn’t know that? Or do you think so little of her that, despite knowing all you’ve done for us, she’d condemn you for this one moment of weakness?”

Ashwin flinched. “Of course not.” His fingers interlocked and twisted into a knot on the parapet coping. “It’s not her. It’s me. My overweening—” He paused, lips twitching slightly upwards. “Somehow, I never realized I had such an ego. I’ve been around for nearly a millennium. You’d think I’d have gotten over myself, by now. Apparently not.

“Just the thought of her watching that video.” A slight shiver ran through him, causing his feather cloak to glimmer faintly in the moonlight. “The thought of any of you watching it. Vikram, Simani…even you, Ruban. And then there’s my sister…” He closed his eyes momentarily. “By Zeifaa, my sister.

“I just…I—” He looked down at his fingers intertwined on the glazed-brick surface, as if struggling to articulate unfamiliar emotions. “It makes my skin crawl. And I wish-I wish I could just be angry. I am angry. But I…” He glanced up, silver eyes wide with some raw emotion Ruban couldn’t define. “I’m paralyzed with dread, Ruban. And I don’t even know what it is I’m afraid of. Janak Nath is dead. I killed him myself. So I-I don’t—”

“You don’t need a reason.” Tentatively, Ruban put one hand on Ashwin’s shoulder; as much to comfort himself as his companion. “What happened to you at Reivaa’s castle…what they did to you… It was more than a crime. It was a travesty.

“And now, these videos…” His fingers tightened slightly on Ashwin’s shoulder. “The fact that they even exist; that someone filmed those sessions. The fact that Dhriti Pathak, of all people, has possession of them.” He sighed, withdrawing his hand to bury it in his pocket. “You’re allowed to feel something about it. Shocking as that might be to you, you’re allowed to be angry. And afraid. And disgusted. Or all the above. I know emotions are supposed to be a human specialty. But it’s not…egotistic,” he scoffed. “To be upset that Janak Nath’s sadism is being wielded as some twisted bargaining chip in Dhriti’s bid for power.”