Tamar, Toyla, Zoya, Nikolai, Genya, David, Alina, and you were standing around a pile of maps on a table in the Little Palace’s War Room.

You and Zoya were going back and forth, discussing the patterns of Fjerdan Raids, what villages they were hitting and how Ravka could stop the raids before they began.

Your point was that Ravka should create outposts and the villages near the boarders, dispense some soldiers, and have them train any willing villagers.

Zoya’s point was that Ravka could give up the villages on the outskirts, but they needed the more central villages and the Capitol to stay protected, so soldiers should stay at the frontlines.

It wasn’t an argument, per se, more so a civil disagreement about the placement of military forces.

Zoya was the General, but you were a Lieutenant. She had more prestige than you, but you and Tamar had just gotten back from the frontlines.

Nikolai and Tamar were smart enough to not interject with any opinions in their Fiancée’s respective opinions.

Both you and Zoya were opinionated women who, as both had learned long ago, were not people to be tested or fucked with.

Tamar shot the King a look, her hand moving to your lower back as you bent over the table, only for it to be pulled back when you shot her a glare.

Okay, fun. You were in your “Don’t touch me, I’m discussing politics” mood.

Nikolai let out a little laugh, only for Zoya to shoot him a look identical to the one you had just given Tamar.

Now, it was the Heartrender’s turn to laugh. Nikolai pouted like he was a sixteen year old who hadn’t gotten his way, instead of the twenty-two year old Tsar he actually was.

“You’re the Captain of my guard, Bataar, stop laughing at me!” Nikolai said, crossing his arms like a petulant child. This outburst only made Tamar laugh harder.

Zoya shot a scolding look at Tamar, and you shot one at Nikolai. Before long, you and Zoya were arguing over whose partner was at fault.

Genya had to stop it.