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“Cassian titled his head to the side at her silence. 'What is it?' 'Would you train non-Illyrian females?' 'I'm training you, aren't I?' 'I mean, would you consider...' She didn't know how to elegantly phrase it, not like silver-tongued Rhysand. 'The priestesses in the library. If I invited them to train with us here, where it's private and safe. Would you train them?' Cassian blinked slowly. 'Yes. I mean, of course, but...' He winced. 'Nesta, many of the females in the library do not want to be- cannot stand to be- around males again.' 'Then we'll ask one of your female friends to join. Mor or anyone else you can think of.' 'The priestesses might not even be able to stomach having me present.' 'You'd never hurt anyone like that.' His eyes softened slightly. 'It's not about that for them. It's about the fear- the trauma they bear. Even if they know I'd never do that to them, I might still drag up memories that are incredibly difficult for them to face.' 'You said this training would help me with my... problems. Perhaps it could help them. At the very least give them a reason to get outside for a bit.' Cassian watched her for a long moment. Then he said, 'Whoever you can get up here with us, I'll gladly train. Mor's away, but I can ask Feyre-' 'Not Feyre,' Nesta hated the words. The way his back stiffened. She couldn't look at him as she said, 'I just...' How could she explain the tangle between her and her sister? The self-loathing that threatened to consume her every time she looked at her sister's face? 'All right,' Cassian repeated. 'Not Feyre. But I need to give her and Rhys a heads-up. You should probably ask Clotho for permission, too.' A warm hand clasped her shoulder and squeezed. 'I like this idea, Nes.' His hazel eyes shone bright. 'I like it a lot.' And for some reason, the words meant everything.” — Sarah J. Maas