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WHY DIDN'T YOU MAKE ME GOOD ENOUGH? SO THAT I WAS WORTH SAVING?
FOR AS UNPREDICTABLE AS THE WORLD WAS, there were things that have remained constant throughout the ages. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. The people you trust the most have the most opportunities to hurt you. The greed of men is neverending.
The latest universal truth Anya discovered was that people born into wealth and power were most often cowards and liars.
Cockroaches had more honor and integrity than the nobles Nikolai had to accept as his advisers, for they were also the King's. Meanwhile, of course, the King had no real interest in working towards winning the war threatening his country.
The meeting with them were tiring and led to nowhere. With every passing day Anya disliked them more and more. Even conversing with the horses in the stable felt more rewarding, probably because the animals couldn't understand her, therefore didn't always try to contradict her words, for reasons no other than that she was a girl and a Grisha. Possibly because she used to be dead; but, really, what point was there in holding onto such prejudice.
During this particular meeting, the advisers briefed them on Os Alta's defences as if Nikolai, Alina and Anya were children who had wandered too far away from a playground and had to be indulged until they were taken care of.
A snake pit would have been more welcoming than that humid meeting room, though Anya supposed those morons would feel right at home in such a place.
Listening to their condescending tone would have been enough to put someone in the grave because of death caused by boredom and frustration. Anya was very close to reaching that point by the two hour mark of the meeting. She was also very close to seriously considering manslaughter.
Anya said what she thought was useful and cared very little for the males' reactions ― she noticed them clearly jotting down all of what she theorised about the nichevo'ya and the possible advancements of the Second Army's artilery. They knew her input was invaluable, they simply refused to admit it.
Somehow along the way, Nikolai had managed to convince these old men that he was worthy of at least being listened to. On one hand, Anya had it in herself to appreciate his ability to manipulate people's impression.
On the other hand, it reminded her of her own, years old shame. Something she'd long since tried to bury.
There were few experiences more dehumanizing than being desperate for someone approval, begging to be trusted, even if for only a day. Nikolai didn't need to do that ― he won people over with careful tactics, but mostly effortlessly. For Anya, it had always been a chore. Doing anything just to be seen used to leave her feeling like a fractured statue, broken into a hundred pieces and yet held together in the hopes of being admired.
