I feel like we all need a little bit of Feyre and Rhys a few years after ACOWAR, and I really believe Feyre will get her shop in the Rainbow. But! this is long and a little spoilery so I will put a break. Enjoy!!
Years after the war with Hybern, Feyre finally has her little art shop in the Rainbow
Three nights a week she offers classes to anyone who wants them, and doesn’t charge for them or for supplies. Sometimes she has to set up space outside in the street to accommodate the turn-out, which she happily obliges.
Rhys insists on covering the High Lord/Lady duties those nights so she can focus wholly on her class, but not without a few “I am so humble and giving” remarks once in awhile.
Feyre, as usual, comes home covered in paint up to her elbows with her face lit up like the heavens. Rhys fills her in on any details from the night while they bathe
One night, after suggesting he might be occupied until after she returns, Rhys (the ever crafty illyrian) decides to surprise his High Lady. He slips into her class just has she is starting and silently slides into a seat in the back, sending winks at those who do bother to look his way. They try to hide their grins and refocus on their teacher.
Feyre is so focused, so immersed in her role there–with her people, it isn’t until she catches his scent over the paint. Her eyes snap to meet his, that wicked grin of his hardly hidden behind his canvas. She looks away but doesn’t hide her smile.
I see you are indeed “occupied with incredibly boring meetings all night,” High Lord. She would send back, continuing her path through the students. Feyre offers praise and suggestions to each painter, addressing them all by name.
Feyre deliberately weaves through the room, leaving Rhys for last, and nearly squeaks when she realizes Rhys was in the process of painting a not-so-modest image of the High Lady of the Night Court (*ahem*)
Rhys laughs down the bond, raising an eyebrow, Tonight’s subject wasn’t the naked form? What a shame, I can’t seem to get this one out of my head. He flashes her an image of them last night (you know where doing you know what).
Feyre simply smiles, broad, and gestures to his painting with her hand, “try accenting these parts with a few darker shades, you have my ass is blending into my thighs.” She winks (Rhy’s wink) at the young fae sitting next to Rhys, who was trying her best to keep her face neutral.
Feyre gracefully returns to her own painting. Occasionally, students will hail Feyre, eager to show her their progress.
As the lesson draws to an end, Feyre offers the floor to anyone who wants to share their paintings that night. No one is obliged to share, and that night everyone cleaned their areas and left swiftly. It might have something to do with the High Lord and Lady staring at each for the last fifteen minutes of class.
Rhys snaps his fingers and the door locks, window-blinds snap shut, and they winnow home.
