Before I let you read, a few important announcements.

For those of you following me on Tumblr, I will be leaving tumblr from Sunday 21st, until I've read Kingdom of Ash. You can find more information about how I'll handle the koa release on the notes of this chapter (plus I'll do a more specific post in the days to come)

Regarding the fic: this might be my last update in a while. In November, I won't be updating it at all, because I'll spend the month of November working on developing my original story, and I can't focus on my story if I keep thinking about my fics. So I'll try to get a chapter out between the moment when I'll finish Kingdom of Ash, and the beginning of November, but nothing certain. In any case, whether it be this chapter or the next one, I promise I won't leave you guys on a big cliffhanger hahahaha (I'm really not that cruel ^^), and I also promise that I am in no way abandoning this fic, and will be back in December! I just need some time for my other project :)

Anyway, that's it I guess. Thank you so so much to everyone who reads, likes, comments,... I love it all!

Feyre sat down at her small desk after lunch, a smile lingering on her face. She'd just eaten with Rhys, and at some point during the meal, he'd casually referred to her as his girlfriend, before realizing what he'd said and looking at her with dread in his eyes. She hadn't been able to stop her laugh at the sight of him freaking out, a warm feeling spreading in her heart at the idea that he considered her his girlfriend, that it had come as naturally to him as it had to her. Still smiling, she opened her inbox to check emails, somewhat mindlessly reading through them, thinking - and blushing - about something Rhys had whispered in her ear before leaving her at the door. Something about making his girlfriend moan when he…

There was an email from New York. From John, the author she'd met with the week before. And the email was titled: "John Helvar - Illustrated edition - Trip to NYC?" She opened it frantically and read what he'd written to her:

From:

To:

Email sent on: Tuesday, October 30th at 1:04 p.m.

Feyre,

How are you?

I'm writing to you as a follow up of our meeting in Velaris last week. I was charmed by all of the ideas you presented to me, and showed them to my publisher on Friday. She also liked them, and would like to meet you and discuss them further before making a final decision. We're both available at the beginning of next week, and would like for you to come to New York for a few days. It would be a trip from Sunday afternoon until Wednesday morning, allowing us two full days to work. The publishing house would pay for your plane tickets and your hotel.

Let me know before Thursday if you're available, to book everything for you.

Looking forward to seeing you soon in New York,

John.

She wasn't sure she was breathing. He wanted her to come to New York. To meet his publisher. To craft a contract. Which meant he wanted to work with her, he wanted her to create every single one of the illustrations for his books. An entire collection, with about 100 to 150 pages per book. After meeting her twice, he trusted her enough to agree to working with her for the next few months, the next few years. She felt her heart racing in her chest, her breathing became jagged and her hands were shaking.

She couldn't do it. She couldn't go to New York and meet with these people when she had to drag herself out of bed every morning, when she found every drawing she made harder than the last. Not when she'd been unable to pick up a paintbrush for months, her only drawings being those requested for work. She'd felt sort of confident during the meetings with him, but it hadn't been serious. For all that she wanted and needed this job, she hadn't considered the possibility that he might actually choose her. Her vision blurred and she realized she was crying. The realization woke her up and she tried to force her body to calm down. Nothing was decided yet, she thought, clenching at her desk to keep herself grounded, he simply wanted her to meet the rest of the team that was working on the project. Maybe he didn't even want to work only with her, maybe she would be part of a bigger team of illustrators and her work wouldn't even be noticed.

But it didn't work, she was still panicking, tears still rolled down on her cheeks. Without thinking, she picked up her phone and dialed.

The day was beautiful. Granted, it was raining, and he was freezing, and he had about a zillion paperwork to finish before he could go home tonight. But how could this day not be beautiful, when he'd just had lunch with his wonderful girlfriend - it was official now - and she was coming to his place to spend the night. He'd have to buy some stuff for her if she started to sleep at his house more regularly, like a toothbrush, some of her shampoo, maybe some stuff for her period if she wanted, a hairbrush,...

He was driven away from his mental shopping list by the vibrations of his phone in his pocket. Smiling at the name on the screen, he answered:

"Hey you, miss me already?"

"Oh Gods Rhys, I'm freaking out." Her voice was stranded, and her breathing frantic.

"What's going on? Are you ok?"

"I am. It's just…. I received an email from the guy I met with the other week. He wants me to go to New York next week to meet his publishing team."

"Feyre, that's great!" He wasn't really an expert in the publishing world, but the author wanting her to meet with his publisher was bound to be a good sign.

"I… Yeah I guess it is." But her voice was flat, and he started wondering what was in this email that got her so freaked out.

"Darling, what's going on? You don't sound pleased."

"No, I am." A pause. "I am. See you tonight at your place?"

"Y - yes, sure. Are you sure you're okay?"

But she had already hung up before his question was over.

She refused to approach the subject of New York for the entire evening, cleverly avoiding talking about it, and bluntly staring at him when he tried to bring it up. So they ate in near silence, Rhys trying and failing to make her open up to him, and then keeping quiet, hoping she might feel better if he left her alone. They washed the dishes, turned off the lights and got up to his bedroom. He was fishing out a clean pair of underpants to sleep in when he caught a glimpse of her in the mirror, seated on his bed, her hand tucked between her thighs, crying silently. He turned around and hurried to her, kneeling down in front of her.

"Feyre, what's going on?"

She avoided his eyes, and was clenching her hands together, tears rolling down her cheeks silently. Still without looking at him, she said: "Are you… Are you mad at me?"

"What? No, of course not. Why would you think that?"

"Well… I don't know. Because I didn't want to talk about New York, and you might think I want to hide something from you, and be mad." Her voice had grown quieter as she talked, and she looked so sad, Rhys decided then and there that if he ever met her ex-boyfriend, he wouldn't mind punching him in the face once or twice.

"Feyre, please, look at me." And he was pleading her, pleading because he wanted her to look into his eyes and understand that he would never react like that, with her or anyone else. She met his eyes but she was still sobbing silently, her beautiful face stained by tears, and her eyes red. "Feyre, you don't have to tell me everything. Ever. If you don't want to tell me about something, it's absolutely fine, and normal." He rested his hands on her thighs gently. "I simply stopped talking about it because I thought I was annoying you, and I thought you'd feel better if I left it alone. I'm sorry, I didn't want to make it worse."

He stopped talking and let her cry, not wanting to make her feel like she had to stop before she felt better. She cried for a while longer, and then she managed to calm down enough to take in deep breaths. He got up from his knees, sat down beside her and gently took her head between his hand. He brushed away her tears with his thumbs, and slowly, so that she'd understand what he was doing and stop him if she wanted to, he hugged her. She gripped his jumper and he tightened his grip on her back, pulling her even closer to him.

"I don't think I'm going to go to New York," her voice was a mere whisper, as if she was indeed telling him a secret, but she was steady.

"Can I ask you why?" He kept his voice equally low.

"I don't think it's going to be worth it."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not good enough to do this job, Rhys. And even if I was, even if the people I'd met with liked my work… I would never be able to deliver."

"Why would you think that? You've been doing this job for years."

"But this is different. It's… It's such a big commitment. If I do agree to work with them, I'll probably be involved in this project for years. It's seven books to illustrate. It would take so long, and I can't guarantee them that I'll be able to manage it."

He gently forced her to move away from him so that he could look her in the eyes when he answered:

"Feyre, this is your job, and from what you've shown me, you're pretty good at it. I have no doubt that if you start working with them, you'll deliver every single piece of art they need. And every single one of them will be beautiful."

She gave him a sad smile, and it broke his heart a little, because he could see that she didn't believe him, that she simply smiled because she thought he was only trying to reassure her. Gods, he wanted to help her so much it hurt, he could feel his heart break at the sight of her being so sad. He couldn't stand to know that she didn't believe in herself, when he himself believed in her more than he could express. And it seemed that there was nothing he could say or do that would change her feeling of being worthless.

"Feyre, why do you think you can't manage?"

"Because… My job, it's not serious. Working with your hobby, that's not something serious, that's not something you can do for your entire life. Drawing and painting, I never learned properly, I was never trained. And untrained skills are useless in the professional world, I wouldn't be able to hold my own in such a big project."

And then he knew. He knew why she was feeling so unconfident. And he was boiling with rage at the idea. But he needed to be sure:

"Did he tell you that? Did he call your talents useless and tell you that you couldn't work with them?" Her silence was answer enough, and he wanted to cry. "Shit Feyre. You are so talented. What you're able to create, what comes to life under your touch, it's a gift. And it's beautiful. Maybe you weren't trained, but I have absolutely no doubt that you'll be able to meet any challenge that comes your way. You're strong, and you're stubborn enough not to let anyone tell you otherwise." She chuckled slightly at that, sniffing after her tears, "Feyre, I think you should go to New York, because you might regret it if you don't. And I'm sure you won't regret going. Worse thing happens, you don't like it, you tell them that you don't want to work with them, and you come back home. Free trip to New York!"

She actually laughed at his sloppy attempt at a joke, and wiped her eyes to get rid of the last tears lingering in them. His chest tightened, and he resisted the urge to take her in his arms again, allowing her space to breathe. When she looked at him once more, there was still sadness in her eyes, but it was coated with a joyful brightness that reflected in her smile. She advanced and kissed him fully, her lips wet and salty, and he kissed her back, hugging her against him.

She arrived at her desk the next morning rested and smiling softly. What had happened the night before had been… amazing. Rhysand had been amazing. She'd had one of her most awful days in a long time, and still he had found the right words, given her the exact amount of reassuring and affection and space to sort it out. He'd given her space, had allowed her to cry for as long as she'd needed it, not commenting on it, not asking for her to calm down. And she had felt so much better afterwards. She couldn't exactly say that she was confident about her abilities to work on the project, but at least she was ready to try. She opened her computer and typed an answer:

RE: John Helvar - Illustrated edition - Trip to NYC?

From:

To:

Draft written on: Wednesday, October 31st at 9:12 a.m.

Hello John,

Thank you for your email. I am thrilled that you liked my ideas for your book, and would love to come to New York next week to discuss it further with you and your associates. I am available on the dates you gave me, so feel free to book those days for our meeting. Please find enclosed a copy of my personal information for any booking you might have to make regarding this trip.

Looking forward to seeing you again,

Greetings from Velaris.

Feyre.

Looking at her screen, she exhaled loudly and clicked send, afraid she might lose her nerves if she waited any longer.

She was going to New York.