"Pity those who don't feel anything at all."
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses
Feyre stood before her painting and almost ripped it off the easel and threw it to the floor. She couldn't capture the image in her mind of Rhysand's eyes. The colors wouldn't blend into that deep blue-violet and it was infuriating. She had tried for days, tried to paint his eyes, but they were never perfect enough. And Rhysand was perfect, with his raven hair and porcelain skin...
Feyre shook her head and backed away from the painting. Why? Why was she painting Rhysand? Why did the image of him standing before her on Fire Night keep appearing in her mind? She must be insane, she must have lost herself Under the Mountain. There wasn't any other reason for her to be imagining Rhysand. He had hurt her. He had healed her, but not without a price.
Feyre looked down at the curling midnight swirls inked onto her arm and cringed. She hadn't gotten used to it yet, the tattoo; she didn't think she ever would. It was like a weight on her skin, reminding her of the way Rhysand had knelt before her in her cell Under the Mountain. How he told her he could heal her, in exchange for a week of her life every month. How he had made a deal with her and how she had accepted.
For Tamlin, she reminded herself, it was all for Tamlin.
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A Court of Dawn and Midnight
FanfictionA deal was made Under the Mountain, and now Feyre must keep up her end of the bargain. For one week each month, Feyre must leave her home in the Spring Court and endure the dark and alluring High Lord of the Night Court. But dark things are happeni...
