“ENVY” in italiano

Nothing but hatred and envy.

They’d been watching Cassian first, partially with awe and partially with what she could only assume was envy.

Cassian didn’t envy Rhys his juggling act.

Higgs felt like he was looking at a past version of Peter, and that only further fanned the flames of his envy.

But as the sickly happy couple mingles with their guests, he finds a somewhat quiet corner on the deck to nurse his envy and pour four fingers of Macallan into his gut.

They were weird little men but they knew a path out of the Queverra that wound back and forth past the river that cascaded into it, one that passed little pools full of beautiful cold clear water that tasted divine, and they carried food on their backs and never complained even if they watched Tuuran with a strange mix of awe and envy and fear while grovelling in the dirt whenever Crazy so much as looked at them.

Bellepheros felt a pang of envy.

Cassian had been on the receiving end of that same stare a few times over the centuries and did not envy Nesta one bit.

Not so much because of faith in the outcome as because of fear and envy.