Okay, so this is the last chapter of Painter's Hands. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favourited, and I might be writing a few oneshots to be set in this storyline, so keep an eye out for those if you're interested.

Disclaimer: I don't own ACOTAR.

Rhysand

I woke to an awful taste in my mouth, an awful pain in my left wing, and a not-so-awful human girl sitting next to me.

My mind was remarkably clear, and I felt extremely well rested as I sat up. I flexed my wings, and was pleased to see there was no longer a hole where I'd been shot with the arrow. And limitless joy filled me as I felt the well of magic inside me - the well that'd been dry for fifty years - full and bursting with power. I felt a few scraps of it seep out to further soothe my wing, and enjoyed the feeling of just being in control again.

Amarantha was dead.

I was free.

A sharp intake of breath to my right startled me out of my euphoric thoughts, and I snapped my head to the right. Feyre sat on the floor about a metre away from the bed I was lying in, her back at an awkward angle against the wall, her chin lolled to the side in sleep. I glanced around the room, taking in the cramped conditions, the dim light streaming through a single small window, and the chest of drawers painted lovingly with faded but bright brush strokes. My eyes trailed down them lazily. One drawer was painted with fire, and I wondered if that was meant to represent Nesta. It seemed likely, considering Elain's drawer was covered in flowers. Which meant Feyre had painted for herself-

My heart stopped.

She'd painted the night sky.

She'd painted my court.

She'd painted me.

I looked at her, remembering a time when I'd had the image of a painter's hand, and I'd felt the loneliness rolling off her through the bond, and pushed back the one image that gave me solace. The night sky, filled with thousands upon thousands upon thousands of stars.

She saw it. She saw me.

That word floated to the surface of my mind again, like a bubble I couldn't pop.

I looked back at her again, and this time I noticed the hand she cradled in her lap, even in sleep. It'd been hastily set, but whoever had done so had done a shoddy job of it. It was a wonder it hadn't been infected yet.

Feyre shifted in her sleep, then whimpered when the movement put weight on her hand. Her eyes flew open with a gasp, and tears spilled over her cheekbones as she pulled her left arm into her chest. She blinked away her remaining tears, then looked up to meet my gaze.

"You're awake." She observed, slightly breathless. "How are you feeling?"

"Perfect," I said, and in all honesty, it was more truth than lie. "Why were you sleeping on the floor?"

She shrugged, and winced as the motion upset her hand. "I was tired. I had to run like hell to get back here in time."

"Why? Was someone dying?"

She raised an eyebrow at me. "You were. Nesta was, but Lucien healed her. The Suriel told me what the cure to the poison you had was."

"You- you ensnared the Suriel?" I asked incredulously, even as I knew instinctually that it was true. A blush threatened to overtake my face at the idea that this human girl had succeeded where I had failed. Twice.

"Yeah." She was surprisingly blasé about catching one of the most elusive faerie creatures in existence. "Now you're alive, Nesta's alive, everyone's happy."

"Why didn't Lucien heal you?" I asked bluntly.

Apparently my question took her by surprise, because she blinked twice, her expression taken aback. "What?"

"Lucien." I repeated. "If he healed Nesta, why can't he heal you too?" I gave her left hand a pointed glance. "If that heals wrong you might not ever be able to hold a bow again. Your family might starve. And if it gets infected, you'll die."

"Don't you think I know that?" She snapped back, her sudden (but expected) ire radiating off her in waves. "But Lucien exhausted himself keeping Nesta alive, so I doubt he can do anything more without killing himself. And Nesta and Elain already promised that if I can't hunt, they'll teach themselves to." Her eyes watered at that, and I had to wonder what that felt like, receiving such wonderful news from the sisters she was sure hated her.

"I can heal you," I offered.

She studied me intently. "What's a mate?"

For the second time in the span of a few minutes, my heart stopped. The started again. Then stopped again.

How the fuck did she know about mates?

Then the answer hit me, and I felt stupid for not realising. I closed my eyes then, and inhaled slowly. The Suriel. Of course it was the Suriel.

"How about this," I said, opening my eyes again. "I heal your hand, and I tell you whilst I do it."

She looked at me for a moment, and though I was dying to know what she was thinking, I kept firmly out of her mind. She deserved that much. What seemed like another fifty years later, she relented. "Alright," she said, with narrowed eyes. She stood up and at on the edge of the bed, offering me her hand.

I sat up further, and took it.

I explained as best I could as I healed her hand. She kept her eyes scrunched shut the whole time, and though I knew it was because of the pain, it touched me slightly that she would trust me enough to keep her eyes shut around me for such a long period of time.

"Right," she said, eyes still closed, just as I was putting the finishing touches on her hand. "So mates are basically these soul-bonded pairings destined to be together, but sometimes it's not a happy relationship they have."

"In a nutshell," I confirmed. I released her hand, and she opened her eyes to inspect it. Her whole body stilled.

"What. Did you do." She said, still staring at the curling, looping lines of dark blue ink that wound round her fingers and forearm up to her elbow, like an elaborate lace glove. She turned her hand over and narrowed her own eyes at the one I'd inked onto her palm. She turned that look on me. Well, I thought. At least she's not shouting, or demanding I remove it. It's a start. "Care to explain?"

I grinned at her. "Consider it a gift. A mark of the Night Court's undying respect for you."

The look didn't go way. "Because I'm your mate."

"Because you killed Amarantha."

"But I am your mate. And you're my mate. That's what the Suriel said." It wasn't phrased like a question, but I could hear the uncertainty behind it.

"It's true." I said. I wished my mother had warned me about how strong and potent the mate bond would be. "If you want to be."

"I have a choice?" She looked shocked, and I had to remind myself that she wasn't used to having choices. For her, most things were live or die.

"Of course. You can choose to ignore the bond if you so wish, and if you want I'll fly away back to the Night Court and you never have to lay eyes on me again." Cauldron, I hoped she didn't choose that one. "You can accept it, and we can discuss what to do from there. Or I can leave you to figure it out if you want and you can tell me your decision via the bond when you're ready."

She looked uncertain. "I'm human. You're High Fae." I raised my eyebrow at her. She elaborated, "I'm mortal, you're. . . not."

I nodded, and swallowed tightly. "Indeed," was all I could say at first. The thought of her death, even when I barely knew her, was excruciating. "If you'd like time to decide, I under-"

"No." She cut me off, shaking her head. "It's just. . . Even if it feels like I've know you my whole life, I haven't. It's been a few days. I just want to get to know you properly before making any commitments."

"That sounds reasonable." I smiled at her. "Not to mention wise." A pause then I suggested, "How about you visit me in the Night Court for a week every month, until you make your decision? Once Prythian's settled down a bit." I tried for a smile, and surprisingly, it came quite easily.

She smiled back. "That sounds reasonable," she said, parroting my own words back at me.

There was an awkward moment of silence, then Feyre flexed her tattooed hand, avoiding my gaze. Then, without warning, leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek.

I smiled at her, broad and bright and genuine, as she flushed red, and it felt like a promise of better things to come.

Thanks for reading!