The night at the mall didn't leave her mind over the next week. She would be shopping at the grocery store, and it'd remind her of waiting in line with Rhys for the movie. She would sit down to read in the living room, and settle against the pillow they'd bought together. Rhys would smile at her across the dinner table, and she would remember the feeling of his lips against her forehead. It was torture. She didn't want it to stop.

The more time passed, the more aware she was of her growing feelings for Rhys. And as much as she tried, she couldn't seem to be able to ignore them anymore. She knew it was unreasonable, and she knew she should just try harder. But then they would be making dinner together, or he would be choosing a movie for them to watch, or drinking coffee at every hour of the day, and she'd find herself struck again and again by how hard she was falling for him.

She was amazed by the fact that things didn't seem awkward between them. After their drive back from the mall, she'd expected things to change between them, she'd dreaded that the ease of their relationship would be gone. But she'd been wrong. Their days weren't any different, the little routines they'd created together not changing a bit. The only thing that had truly changed was her view on her own life.

Accepting her feelings was like shedding a light on a part of herself she'd tried to ignore for a long time - probably longer than she cared to admit. Now that she had, she saw everything more clearly, and was even slowly starting to think of what could come next for her. She wanted to find a new job, one that wasn't just a means to an end. Maybe something to do with art if she could. She could see herself find a job that wasn't just part-time, somewhere she could spend her entire days and truly enjoy herself, feel like she was creating something.

She was slowly starting to consider what her future might look like. And maybe even thinking about Rhys sharing that future with her. She knew how unrealistic that thought was, taking into account the turmoil that was their lives. If she was being realistic, the most likely outcome would be that after the trial was over, and she'd found a place to live, they would both move on with their lives. But she couldn't stop herself from hoping things would be different, from hoping they wouldn't go their separate ways. Not when being with him seemed to make so much sense.

So she let things run their course, trying to ignore the frustration that was slowly growing inside her every time Rhys smiled at her and she wasn't kissing him, every time they were sitting on the couch and she wasn't holding him.

She was getting ready to go to bed one evening, when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Rhysand, already wearing sweatpants for the night, entered with two mugs in his hands.

"Hey. I thought you'd like some tea," he said as he approached the bed where she was seated and handed her one of the mugs.

"Thank you," she said, taking the mug in both hands and relishing in the smell of lemon coming from it. Rhys sat down on the bed beside her, his own mug in hand. She smiled at him, and they sipped their tea in silence for a while, enjoying the quiet atmosphere between them. Feyre took some time to once again appreciate how good she felt when they were together, even when it was doing things as mundane as drinking tea before going to bed. She looked at him, acutely aware of what she was feeling for that man, but pushing it away as she drank some more.

"I wanted to talk to you," Rhys started, setting his mug down on the nightstand.

"What is it?"

"Ericksen just called me. Hart and Tamlin were arrested today." Her hands tightened their grip on the mug. She knew it'd been coming, but she still didn't feel ready.

"Okay," she answered in a small voice. Rhys frowned.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just…" she took a deep breath. "I guess I'm just more… nervous, about the whole thing, than I realized."

Rhys took the empty mug from her hands and set it on the nightstand before turning back to her. He took one of her hands in his before talking.

"It's normal to be nervous, Feyre. Do you want to talk about it?"

She shrugged and looked down at their linked hands. "There's not much to talk about, honestly. I just don't want to screw things up once things get to trial." She paused, before adding. "And I'm afraid of when I'll see Tamlin again."

She felt Rhysand's fingers delicately come up to her face to push her loose hair behind her ear. His hand lingered against her cheek, and she looked up to meet his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, almost violet in the dim light of the evening.

"Feyre," he started in a soft voice, "you won't screw up anything. The trial won't happen any time soon, and once it does, we're going to ask that you don't be forced to be in court with him. But even if you have to, you have nothing to be afraid of." His fingers moved on her skin until his thumb was brushing the corner of her lips. "I won't let anything happen to you."

She had no idea when the night had become so silent. Or when Rhys and her had gotten so close that she could feel his breath against her skin. He smiled at her, confident, and she knew he meant his words. His thumb stroked her lips slowly, and she watched his eyes glance down at her mouth before looking into her eyes again.

She knew what the sensible thing to do would be. Take a step back, let go of his hand, say goodnight. But right now, she didn't want to be sensible.

So she closed her eyes, and took that last step, letting her mouth brush against his. He kissed her back in a heartbeat, his lips moving with hers with a slow eagerness, as both his hands cupped her face, gently pulling her to him. She moved her hands to his chest, giving in to the sweet caress of the kiss.

They broke apart after a while, their foreheads touching, her eyes still closed, and she already wanted to kiss him again. The silence felt good between them, she relished in it as she felt his heart beating fast under her palm. She didn't want to move, because she knew what it meant once one of them started to talk.

"Feyre…" Rhys whispered against her lips.

"Don't say it."

"Feyre, we can't do this."

She sighed. "I told you not to say it." He chuckled at that, and she opened her eyes to find him looking at her, their noses gently brushing against each other. She saw the pain in his eyes, and she moved her hand from his chest to the back of his neck, in a desperate attempt to keep him against her. He let out a breath and leaned into her touch, a sad smile spreading on his lips.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

They stared into each other's eyes for a long time, until finally, Feyre let go of him and moved slightly away. She turned her eyes to the night stand, afraid of what she might do if she looked at him. She felt him getting up from the bed, and she closed her eyes as he bent down to kiss her forehead.

"Try to get some sleep." He was gone a second later, and she was left alone, her lips craving his mouth, her soul missing his warm presence against her.