Chapter XV

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He hoped she looked dazzling enough to take the Inner Circle's eyes away from him

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He hoped she looked dazzling enough to take the Inner Circle's eyes away from him

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Cassian was busy marvelling over his own reflection when Azriel made his way through the window. He didn't own a glass mirror quite as large as his brother, besides, Mor had said she'd stored the robes he'd picked out in a rush earlier that morning. It was more likely that she'd outright refuse to do Cassian's tie, she'd taken the loss last time and he'd complained at her for the entire night about how tight it was and how ridiculous he looked and how the colour was slightly off from his jacket.

"Don't I look mouth-watering?" He said, flexing his biceps until they were almost bulging out from his tunic, a fresh white against the maroon long-jacket, embellished with gold swirls. His tie, Azriel had made sure, matched exactly, made from exactly the same sheet of fabric.

"I was going to say ravishing, but I'm sure Nesta would go for 'revolting'."

Cassian snorted, turning on his heel to face him as he pinned his cufflinks in place. They were gold too. To his credit, he looked like royalty, though Azriel doubted that's what he was going for. "She's such a flirt." He didn't want to argue, not when Cassian seemed in such a delightful mood. "I was looking through the stuff Mor dropped off-"

"I would've thought Feyre would've taught you to have better manners."

"Well, you thought wrong. Anyway, I think she's dropped off the wrong stuff." He made his way over to his cupboard, tugging at a set of clothes, covered in a bag. He'd told Mor that it wasn't necessary, moths and dust wouldn't feast on it within a couple of hours, but she'd insisted. "I mean, the suit's fine. Black, blue. Very Azriel."

"Even if you do say so yourself."

Cassian ignored that remark, peeking over Azriel's shoulder as he unravelled item after item. The suit, as his brother had already smartly pointed out, was blue. Dark blue. Dark enough to look almost black, with black embroidery. It had reminded him of his shadows, it sprawled out in the masses around his wings and over his shoulders, slowly becoming less the more they expanded. The shirt was black too, but he had a feeling it was more the tie Cassian had worried after.

"No. This is right."

"But it's-"

The Spymaster turned to him with a deepening scowl, warning him not to question his judgement, or just not to question him at all. "Is there a problem?"

Azriel watched as Cassian's mouth snapped shut in the reflection, his eyes narrowing too as he watched the Spymaster up and down. "No...Though it is rather-"

The door creaked open and Mor skipped in, lounging across the futon. "Oh shush. Azriel, it looked wonderful earlier. It'll look wonderful now." But the unwarranted attention had him burning up. Of course, a few eyes watching him wasn't a problem, he wasn't used to it, that was all. "It's just different." A good different, he hoped.

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