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“Mor sagged a bit, jewelry glinting with the movement, and went to take Cassian's arm. But he'd at last approached Nesta. And as the world began to turn to shadows and wind, I saw Cassian tower over my sister, saw her chin lift defiantly, and heard him growl, 'Hello, Nesta.' Rhys seemed to halt his winnowing as my sister said, 'So you're alive.' Cassian bared his teeth in a feral grin, wings flaring slightly. 'Were you hoping otherwise?' Mor was watching- watching so closely, every muscle tense. She again reached for his arm, but Cassian angled out of reach, not tearing his eyes from Nesta's blazing gaze. Nesta blurted, 'You didn't come to-' She stopped herself. The world seemed to go utterly still at that interrupted sentence, nothing and no one more so than Cassian. He scanned her face as if furiously reading some battle report. Mor just watched as Cassian took Nesta's slim hand in his own, interlacing their fingers. As he folded in his wings and blindly reached his other hand back toward Mor in a silent order to transport them. Cassian's eyes did not leave Nesta's; nor did hers leave him. There was no warmth, no tenderness on either of their faces. Only that raging intensity, that blend of contempt and understanding and fire. Rhys began to winnow us again, and just as the dark wind swept in, I heard Cassian say to Nesta, his voice low and rough, 'The next time, Emissary, I'll come say hello.” — Sarah J. Maas