A Court of Dawn and Midnight

The Child

As soon as Rhysand left, Feyre flung herself across the room to the wall. Rhysand said that all she needed was behind the wall, and Feyre eagerly rushed around the corner. 

What she saw knocked the wind out of her.

Brushes and canvases and colors. Deep, dark, night colors.

Colors that looked oddly like the colors in Rhysand's eyes.

Feyre walked slowly to one of the carts of paint. Some of the colors, the blues and blacks and purples, seemed to whisper to Feyre. 

Rhysand, Rhysand, Rhysand.

And even though her hands were shaking and her heart was pounding, Feyre picked up the whispering paints. As she did so, guilt washed over her. 

What would Tamlin say? What would he do if he knew what Feyre was about to do? 

Despite the guilt, Feyre brought the paints to a canvas and dipped a brush into one of the deep blues.

And suddenly her hand was flying across the canvas and she was starting to feel dizzy. But Feyre did not stop painting. She blended the deep colors into a deep, dazzling blue that was so dark, it seemed to be violet.

Oh, she knew it was wrong. To paint the eyes of the man who had hurt her, forced her.

Healed her.

But Feyre did not care in that moment, for she was being dragged into the beauty of Rhsyand's eyes. The painting was missing something though and Feyre knew it would not be perfect unless she included every detail in Rhysand's eyes.

So Feyre painted the stars in his eyes and the mysteries that hid behind them.

When Feyre stepped back yet again, her heart fluttered at what she saw. Because buried underneath the intensity of Rhysand's eyes, was an emotion that Feyre never thought she would see.

Feyre hid that emotion deep in her heart and vowed never to forget it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Fae here were dark. They had midnight hair, deep eyes and fair skin. Feyre felt so out of place as she followed Rhysand through the village. Her blue eyes seemed to startle some of the Night Fae, so she ducked her head and continued to follow Rhysand. 

He was walking towards a fountain in the middle of the village. Feyre expected to see ordinary, clear water flowing down the fountain, but that was not the case. The liquid on the fountain was a shining, gold and silver, blending together and complementing each other. Feyre was so awed by the liquid that she did not notice the tiny figure sitting on the fountain's edge.

A whimper escaped from Feyre's lips as she looked down and saw the figure, the child, perched by the gold-silver liquid.

Such odd features in this child, silver hair, cascading down her back. Blue eyes that seemed to glow, framed by long, silver lashes. She was so unlike the rest of the Night Fae. 

And a child. Fae children were so rare.

The child lifted her hand to Feyre, grinning wickedly, and handed Feyre a single black rose. Then the silver haired girl motioned for Feyre to lean closer. 

Feyre knelt down next to the girl and the child's mouth came close to Feyre's ear.

"He's watching you. He's always watching you." The child's breath was freezing against Feyre's skin and she jerked her head back.

"Who? Rhys?" Feyre realized that she had just used Rhysand's nickname. She bit her lip. 

But the child only smirked and reached out to touch the black eye on Feyre's palm. 

"Be careful." The child sang. "The Night court is a very dangerous place." 

A rough voice behind Feyre made her stand up quickly.

"Feyre." Rhysand's tone was serious. "We should go." 

"Why?" Feyre asked.

"We need to talk. I would prefer if it was at the palace." Rhysand seemed worried. 

Rhysand, worried?

"Alright." Feyre said as she turned back to the child, but the silver haired girl was gone, only a black rose was left.