A week passed by of staying up late and scrounged through as many texts as possible. Azriel and Amren helped the most, as she was the most familiar with the books.
Hope hadn't seen Nesta all week.
Whatever they'd said to her after she'd left the room that night must have been enough to keep her in her own home.
Today, Hope was on her own. Amren was staying in her own apartment, and Azriel was doing an assignment for Rhysand. As it turned out, he was what they called a Spymaster—even more interestingly, a Shadowsinger.
Hope had yet to see his skills in action, but she had a feeling his abilities were highly impressive.
After roaming the empty halls for some time, Hope stumbled upon a room that took her breath away. The scent of fresh paint and stretched canvases could have made her cry.
Walking into the room filled with art supplies, she spun in a slow circle. She took in the already finished pieces and couldn't help but wonder whose hand had created them.
"Do you like them?" Feyre's voice broke Hope from the oasis in her mind, making her nearly jump out of her skin.
Hope nodded and smiled. "They're gorgeous." She looked up at the another piece that hung high on the wall. "The canvases that hang in the halls are yours?"
"They are," Feyre paused, and picked up a long-handled flat brush, "Do you paint?"
It was a loaded question that shouldn't be difficult to answer, but somehow was. "I used to."
Feyre glanced her way, a frown troubling her mouth. "Why'd you stop?"
A light shrug, and Hope leaned against one of the stools. "It was something my dad taught me and…and when he died, I couldn't bring myself to do it anymore."
Taking up the other stool, Feyre tilted her head. "Wouldn't it bring you closer to his memory if you did?"
Hope pursed her lips. "It might," she sighed, "but there's also the chance that it'll just make me sad, and I don't want to turn happy memories into depressing ones. I guess I'd rather keep the good ones intact."
"I can understand that," Feyre nodded, then offered a warm smile, "but if you ever change your mind, you're more than welcome to use the studio."
Hope frowned. "Oh, I couldn't do that."
"There's more than enough supplies, Rhys spoils me in more ways than one." She let out a laugh. "I insist."
Snorting, Hope shook her head and looked over at a painting that must resemble the Winter Court.
"So how are things going?" Feyre asked.
Hope arched a knowing eyebrow. "With the searching or with Azriel?"
She quickly met her eyes and let out a soft sigh. "I'm sorry, I swore to Rhys I wouldn't meddle, I just…and I don't say this lightly, you two seem so good together."
"Feyre-"
"I know, it's not right for me to speak on his behalf," Feyre pursed her lips, "I just care about him. I want to see him happy and when you're around him, I see a different side of him. We all do."
Hope took a moment to think through her response, chewing the words carefully. "I know what Mates are, Feyre. I'm not saying it's not something I'd ever want to persue, but I don't feel right pushing something that serious right now. It's been a week," her voice lowered, "I need more time to adjust if this is my new life."
"I think," Feyre started, clearing her throat, "I may know how you feel. When I first arrived here I wasn't who I am now. A human turnes Fae, yes, but I was beside myself with grief of the life I'd been living. So confused, but hungry for something I couldn't understand. The point I'm trying to make is that…I felt so much guilt for wanting to stay here…"
Sudden tears stung Hope's eyes and she quickly had to look away.
"I know that feeling well," Feyre continued softly, "feeling as though you've abandoned the life you'd known, the people you cared about, but living your life isn't selfish."
When Hope didn't respond, focusing on the tightening in her throat, Feyre nodded and stood to her feet.
Squeezing her shoulder before she left, she said, "It's okay to want something for yourself."
She kept the tears at bay as Feyre left, feeling like her words had cleaved her heart in two. Both halves tried to travel in different directions, sending a shivering ache through her body. Biting her lip, she stared at the blank canvas a few feet away.
Hope took a deep breath and picked up a brush.