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SOMEONE HAS TO LEAVE FIRST
HONEST TO SAINTS, Anya was willing to cut her own throat if it would put an end to the meeting. Or the throat of the crown prince, even if the latter would come without additional benefits.
The king's council of ministers displayed a remarkable level of incompetence, blabbering on about inconsequential matters, vying for the opportunity to speak like starved pigs around a trough of feed. To cope with the annoyance, Anya resorted to bouncing her leg under the table, though it was evident from Nikolai's concerned glances that her disdain was evident in her every move. Unfortunately, he was often able to deduce what she was thinking about. It wasn't Anya's fault that in this crowded, humid room, her thoughts resorted mostly to murderous urges.
"The subjects have become far too defiant," one of the advisers, Zablotskii, exclaimed angrily, throwing a stack of papers he had been skimming onto the table. He was an elderly man with hair so grey it made Anya question how fit he was for the role of deciding the fate of Ravka. "There's barely anybody left to keep order in the cities, let alone to enlist for the war."
All of the other men nodded, silently congratulating their fellow idiot for making the most fundamental conclusion possible.
"They aren't being defiant," Nikolai argued in a surprisingly calm tone. "Our troops have been thinned by previous wars and misfortune, from which the people have gained nothing ever since, might I add. They're afraid."
"Surely you aren't trying to justify desertion, your highness," Zablotskii said. The tone of his voice did not leave his attitude towards Nikolai up for interpretation. "It might be best if you educate yourself before speaking up."
"It seems to me that you're the one in need of educating," Anya cut in.
Every wrinkle on Zablotskii's face deepened, as if the mere idea of being undermined by a woman, let alone a witch, was a fate worse than being ripped apart by an army of shadows. Anya barely surpassed a sigh and briefly touched her fingers to her aching forehead. This had been going on since forever and there were so many actually important things to be done – so many people to try and help. She'd rather be in any other situation than stuck in a room and arguing with a man.
"What are you implying?" the minister seethed.
"I'm implying that you're a fool who speaks about matters you know nothing about," she retorted, raising an eyebrow. The pounding headache was taking its toll. "Was I not clear enough?"
A wolf could only attempt to wear sheep's clothing for so long.
"You— you absolute—"
"Go out into the world and ask any single citizen their opinion on all that's been discussed here," she said with exasparation. "Make it a little experiment of educating yourself, out in the real world, right? I guarantee the averagt person will tell you the same thing the prince had. The people don't want to serve a country that has nothing to offer in return, especially if nobody even honors those who have already given their lives to Ravka. And there's barely anybody of age left to recruit."
