A Walk to Greater Worlds: Aeriel Trilogy #3

Chapter 17

Over the next two hours, Ruban, Jheel, Dhriti, and Raizada all took turns engaging with the media, answering questions and trying (with dubious success) to smooth some of the feathers Ashwin had ruffled. Unnati spoke sparsely, seemingly preoccupied with her own thoughts.

As Raizada stepped up to the podium to take any final questions, Unnati leaned over his seat until the tip of her nose brushed Ruban's ear. "I don't know if we've made things better or worse tonight," she muttered. "Your pet Aeriel has charm, but that's a double-edged sword. The media is more divided than ever, and before tomorrow's news cycle has run its course, the nation will be too."

"We knew this would happen sooner or later, when we agreed to an open alliance with Vaan. Besides, the ardor with which the photographers were clicking away at Ashwin when he was on the podium?" Ruban gave a slight shrug. "I've a feeling tomorrow's headlines will be as focused on his fashion sense as his political stance. This issue had to be broached, and this was as good a way to do it as any."

Unnati scoffed. "You think our human population is the only one I'm worried about? He just bared his throat to the media." Her gaze flicked to Ashwin, then back. "All but gave them the top ten reasons why Aeriels don't stand a chance against the Vandran forces in a fair fight. That might get him into the good graces of some of the ultranationalist factions that've so far been supporting the cults. But how do you think his feathery friends would feel about it?"

Ruban frowned. Was she worried about the Exiles' reaction to this press conference? On Ashwin's behalf? He shook his head. "He can handle himself. It's not our job to protect the Aeriel prince from his own kind."

Unnati made a small sound of exasperation. "He's not just the Aeriel prince, not anymore. He's the ambassador of Vaan. If he gets himself killed within Vandran borders, it'd be our reputation on the line. If he kills anyone – human or Aeriel – it'd be our reputation on the line. The Hunter Corps gets screwed either way. And I want to know beforehand what kind of mess I'll be left to deal with, once this is over."

It was a few minutes past midnight when Ruban found himself walking out of the IAW headquarters with an exuberant Ashwin at his side.

He stretched, feeling his joints pop satisfactorily after hours of enforced inertia. "God I'm getting old," he groaned, feeling his muscles unclench and relax despite the chilly night air. "I think I finally understand why Uncle Subhas jumped at the opportunity for a desk job the moment he hit forty."

Ashwin eyed him, one corner of his lips tipped slightly upward. "With your diet? It'll be closer to thirty-five."

"And whose fault is that?"

A pair of dainty eyebrows shot up into Ashwin's silvery hairline. "Are you complaining?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Ruban laughed. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he tipped his head back to gaze up at the starlit sky. "If I avoid getting drawn and quartered by the public in the upcoming months—"

"Or blasted into oblivion by an indignant Exile," Ashwin supplied helpfully.

"Or that." Ruban agreed. "Then cholesterol is welcome to take its shot."

"Not feeling very optimistic tonight, are we?"

Ruban exhaled loudly. "You know as well as I do – this is the calm before the storm. It won't last."

Ashwin leaned into him momentarily, bumping their shoulders together. "Anything in particular I should be worried about?"

"Anything? Try everything." Ruban turned a corner, bringing his parked sedan into view. "It'd be easier to find something you needn't be worried about. To begin with, the Chief Hunter doesn't approve of this alliance. Or of your presence here in Ragah, for that matter. Without her support, the terms of the alliance would be all but impossible to enforce, considering the mood the Vandran public is in."