Rhys dipped his head down and kissed me fully. But I was still crying.

It had been a busy day. I woke up early and went to the studio, empty and echoing since the sun hadn't yet risen. I painted harshly. I slashed the canvas with deep purples and rich blues, and finished with a red streak through it all. Once the sun had come up, I had things to do. But I couldn't bring my mind and passion into anything. I instructed the young artists, cleaned up stations, squeezed out fresh paint.

And still, I was empty.

It had been a week since we lost the baby. My mental state was faltering. While it didn't affect my consistency of painting, the topic of my paintings had taken a turn. No landscapes and laughter and hope of the future. I would channel my confusion and hurt and anger and create blurs of emotions, pits that would reflect what was going on inside.

After a few days in, Rhys suggested we both go back to normal lives. Routine would help familiarize our sadness. The first day was heavy. My limbs, my mind, my tongue. I had to drag up words from the back of my throat, every one feeling wrong and thick leaving my mouth.

And now, as I set on the edge of our massive bed, Rhys standing before me, I could only cry.

"Have you eaten today?" He asked softly, his hand on the side of my face. I leaned into the warmth of his palm.

I nodded. I bite of an apple for breakfast, and a piece of toast grabbed from the kitchen on my way upstairs an hour ago. Rhys tilted his head and gave me a look. I shook my head, sniffling.

Immediately a bowl of hot soup and french bread appeared on the bed side table. The smell was heavenly, but I couldn't fully enjoy it. Like I couldn't fully feel anything the past week. Despite this fact, my stomach grumbled.

Rhys got the soup and sat on the bed next to me. "I ate an hour ago with Azriel. I'll start the bath, and add your favorite vanilla bubbles." He smirked slightly and bumped me with his shoulder. I gave him a tight smile in return.

"Try to eat, my darling. I'll be waiting for you when you're ready." I wiped away at my face, nodding. Rhys gave me a last kiss on the forehead before heading for the bathing chamber, where the faucet cranked on a few moments later.

I sighed, pushing my hair back from my face, and fell back onto the mattress. Looking up at the ceiling, my mind immediately began to fill. I closed my eyes tight.

I had been in this darkness before. Not this specific evil, but a variety of it, sure. I had walked with it, grown accustomed to its nauseating sadness that reeled inside me. But I had also overcome it. I grasped and fought and found my own way out. With help from my friends, my Rhys, my paintings.

I was starting from scratch, with a whole new monster. And every day I felt like I was losing.

I glanced at the soup Rhys had placed back onto the table a few feet away, and scooted towards it, sitting criss cross on the bed. I was hungry. I just felt like nothing would satisfy the hunger. But I needed to work my way out of this. Just like before.

I felt a little tug from Rhys down the bond. Teasing.

I sat on the bed until I finished the entire bowl. Only crumbs from the bread remained.

Another tug on the bond. I'm coming you impatient bastard, I sent back. I heard a laugh from the bathroom as I walked towards the door.

The main light was out, but when I cracked the door to peek in, a soft yellow glow spilled into the bed room. Dozens of candles lit the room, casting mellow shadows throughout. Rhys sat in the tub, bubbles nearly overflowing. He waved at me to come further in. I bit my lip, smiling. I got to the edge of the grand tub, "Vanilla."

"Vanilla." he replied, eyeing me knowingly. His eyes were positively dreamy in the candle light, a deep, swirling purple. I never got tired of his face, of that beauty that was so naturally paired with his kind heart.

I dropped my robe and sank into the warmth and bubbles, leaning my back against Rhys' torso. I hadn't taken a proper, long bath in weeks, hadn't had the time to sit and not think. Hadn't had the luxury of an empty mind.

"Was the soup good, then?"

"I need Elain to teach me the recipe."

"And the studio?"

"The children are fast learners." My throat felt heavy but I swallowed hard. "Sharp minds. And creative," I added.

Rhys paused before saying, "It's only been a week, Feyre. We don't have to be okay right now."

"I feel that darkness again," I pulled my knees up to my chest. "I'm afraid I'll drown in it."

Rhys stayed silent, only the candles flickered. "I have to find my way out again." I turned to look at him. "But I know this time, I have help. And proof. Real experience in this kind of deep sadness, that I can turn it around."

After a few more moments, when he was sure I had gotten it out, "Me too. We can help each other." A soft shimmer was sent through the bond. "As much work goes into healing ourselves, we can't forget the importance and help that comes with friends, and good food, and sunshine. Wine…. fighting, flying, painting," he gestured towards me at that, "walking around the market. Talking to our people." He shrugged. "We do need to heal individually, but togetherness is a huge help. And we have so much support."

I nodded slowly. "And not to mention bubble baths."

"Bubble baths really heal the soul," Rhys replied.

I faced forward again, looking into the twinkling stars that amassed the high window in front of us.

Incrementally, insanely slow, it was getting better. I was getting better. And when I leaned back into Rhys, and sunk lower into the warmth of the water, I felt that first glimmer of hope in my bones.

—

I sat with Mor inside the little cafe, jazz music filling the cozy area. My tea cup warmed my hands as the brisk autumn air breezed in through the cracked windows. This was one of my favorite Velaris spots, far enough away from the Sidra that it wasn't always busy, but still thrumming slightly with the city feel.

My blonde companion glumly watched me sip on my tea. "Where is my latte. I need caffeine. Do you think they forgot my order?" She strained her neck to look towards the counter.

"We only ordered a few minutes ago," I huffed a laugh at her worrying glances she continued to throw over her shoulder.

She gave up, slumping back in her seat. "I'm exhausted. I was up all night arguing with Cassian about Devlon, the old grump. He's getting testy about the new techniques Rhys continues to insist on."

Courtesy of Helion, High Lord of the Day Court, our inner circle was taught a few new lessons from Helion's own fighting legion. Overall, his moves were smoother, more efficient, less aggressive but a tidier job. Cassian didn't exactly appreciate it, but Rhys found it very interesting, and decided to implement the new fighting skills into our Illyrians forces. They appreciated it even less than Cassian had.

"I nearly took Rhys' arm off twice in lessons, these new skills will be helpful. They've trained on those mountains for so long they forgot that there are new things to learn elsewhere," I sipped my tea again and Mor's face changed from thoughtful to annoyed and she stood up and made her way to the counter.

As Mor accosted the barista, a pretty High fae with her delicate eyebrows shooting up at my friends' questioning, I swirled my tea around its little white cup. I was still sore from the new training, my knuckles slightly red and tender atop the calluses from pummeling the pads and practice dummies.

I looked out the cracked window, citizens strolling the streets arm in arm, smiling, happy. The war was years ago, but if you looked closely enough, you could still see the scars it left on the city and its people. A crack in a side walk there (filled with a marble pour, not completely covering the history but honoring the memory), a cracked window the owner never got around to fixing, a few piles of debris in forgotten alley ways.

Lost in thought, I didn't realize Mor was on her way back to the table (latte in hand) until she plopped down loudly in the seat beside me. "So I know this was a coffee date but I might actually have a real date, and she gets off in a few minutes. Would you mind?" She angled her head and gave me a fake-pleading smile. I told her I wouldn't, and I was about to walk the Sidra anyways. She promised a do-over soon and I grabbed my pack that was stuffed with random art supplies, loose papers, and a nearly-rotting apple before heading out the door. When I walked past the window, I saw the dark haired barista smile nervously towards Mor, and my heart filled for my friend.

—

The Sidra was beautiful during autumn. The thick evening sunlight bounced from its surface as I walked over the bridge and stopped at the peak. I leaned over and sighed.

Busy? I sent down the bond tentatively.

While it was my day off, Rhysand had a schedule full of meetings. I almost didn't like my days with no work, nothing to keep my mind distracted and my hands going.

A meeting. Apparently there's a beautiful woman that keeps loitering on the Northern Bridge. We're not sure what to do about the issue. Rhys sent back a few moments later.

I smiled to myself. Maybe she's bored.

She should try the library. Third floor down, Isle 32, second shelf from the bottom. There's a nearly ruined book chock full of adventure and heartbreak.

I made my way to the library.

—-

After settling down into a particularly cozy leather armchair, four hours passed until I set the book down. My head was still swimming with the characters and the lives I'd been invested in.

The sun was just now beginning to droop towards the horizon, and the golden light spilled into the window nearby.

Peaceful, I decided. This was peaceful.

But then, I heard the heavy footfalls and sighed.

"We're needed at the camp. Talks of dishonor and breaking tradition are spreading and we need to clip it here before it grows into something else." I rose from my seat at this.

Cassian stood in his full Illyrian gear, face serious, siphons glinting slightly. "Rhysand is meeting us there."

Without trying to sound like it was the last thing on earth I felt like doing, said, "Not just you and Azriel are needed to squash this?"

"That's what I said, but Rhys said he wants to make a point. And with both of you there, I'm sure it will."

Cassian flew with me back to the town house for a quick change, where I was made aware that Rhys would be in his usual black suit, I opted for class and comfort as well. Instead of armor and leather, I dressed warm and in neutral tones. My black boots were the only hardness of my look. Because I would make sure my words were what struck home.

I offered to fly Cassian so he could save his strength for whoever he would ultimately end up fighting with, and he rolled his eyes before shooting into the sky.

—

We met at the townhouse. Cassian and I were the last to arrive. Winter was still melting into spring, and the chill atop the mountains had me hugging my coat tighter around me.

Ilyrians were sparring a good distance away, and the clang of their weapons and grunts of pain drifted over to us on the cold wind.

Walking towards the rows of homes along the drop off, I saw Rhys, leaning back against the table set in front of the window. He was explaining something to Mor with his hands painting an elaborate picture. My chest tightened when I saw him chuckle at something Mor had replied. I walked faster.

The room was warmed with the fire crackling loudly in the den. I went straight to Rhys and gave him a long hug. Amren murmured something I didn't care to hear.

I pulled away and it was Azriel who cleared his throat. I hadn't even see him when I first walked in. "Devlon and the others are gathered and waiting. What's the plan?" He looked towards Rhys and I.

Rhys sighed. "Threaten them enough so the point gets across. The usual. Maybe see if we can figure out who's spouting all this crap to begin with, and take it from there." Rhys looked down at me and I nodded back to him.

We set off into the camp.

—