You sat across the war table from the King of Tyrlian. You’ve been at war for the last two years. After loses on both sides, you agreed to meet and talk about terms of peace.

“You’re the great Night King? How great can you be if you let a bitch do all your talking? You hide behind her skirts.” King Ikra, the rival King laughed at your husband.

That was a mistake.

“If I wanted to hurt anyone,” Taenaran growled, slamming his hands on the table, “I would have done so already.”