dignity? don’t know her

Nesta : sweetheart if you don’t sleep with him I will

Cassian :

Nesta : sweetheart if you don’t sleep with him I will

Cassian :

Azriel was nothing short of beautiful. Even with those scarred hands and the shadows that flowed from him like smoke, she’d always found him to be the prettiest of the three males who called themselves brothers.

But the second male, the more classically beautiful of the two … Even the light shied from the elegant planes of his face. With good reason. Beautiful, but near-unreadable.

He grinned at Azriel. “You handing Eris’s ass to him will be my new fantasy at night, by the way.”

I sent another pretty face for you to admire, Rhys said. Not as beautiful as mine, of course, but a close second. As the shadows wreathing him cleared, Azriel sized up Nesta and Cassian.

Azriel’s presence helped. He now trained the newest recruits, quiet and gentle yet unfaltering, and if she didn’t know better, she’d swear at least two of the priestesses—Roslin and Ilana—sighed every time he walked past.

Azriel emerged from the sitting room, a glass of wine in hand and wings tucked back to reveal his fine, yet simple black jacket and pants. I felt, more than saw, my sister go still as he approached. Her throat bobbed.

Then Elain’s face appeared over Mrs. Laurent’s round shoulder. Beautiful—she’d always been the most beautiful of us. Soft and lovely, like a summer dawn. 

“She was jealous of your beauty,” Amren said, an amused smile on her red lips. Elain blushed.

“Elain’s beauty was remarkable. Hers was a face that could bring kings to their knees.”

When human, Elain had easily been the prettiest of the three of them, and when she’d been turned High Fae, that beauty had been amplified. Nesta couldn’t put her finger on what changes had been wrought beyond the pointed ears, but Elain had gone from lovely to devastatingly beautiful. Elain never seemed to realize it.

“Put the prettier one in first,” the king said, Mor already forgotten.

Elain was laughing among a circle of beautiful friends, flushed and brilliant.

I found Elain studying it, beautiful in her amethyst-colored gown. I made to move toward her, but someone beat me to it.

“Some were as lovely as you, Elain,” Rhys said from beside Feyre, “from the outside. But once they set foot into the arena of battle, they became as bloodthirsty as Amren.”

“They say your sister Elain is the beauty, but you outshine her tonight.”