The next morning, all three sisters head out to the village to sell the hides.

the road into our village was speckled with brown and black from passing carts and horses. Elain and Nesta clicked their tongues and grimaced as we made our way along it

Seriously. Eight years. You’ve been here for eight years. This kind of shit doesn’t make sense after you throw in EIGHT YEARS. This should be commonplace to them by now. Do we really need the sisters to be bad for this book to work? Because I’m not very far in, but I don’t think we do. For Cinderella, it makes sense; a sweet and nice sister that also says “and now make me my breakfast even though we are sisters” doesn’t make sense, so they have to be some level of spoiled and superior just to make the premise work. But here? They’re all poor, the drama comes from being poor, and like I said last chapter you can have them be upset or unperfect without going into Cinderella territory.

They head into the village, where there is a market day going on, but along the way they run into some evangelist for a group called Children of the Blessed, who use some cobbled-from-Christianity phrases to try and convert the three sisters into worshiping the High Fae instead of fearing them. Given what little history we know so far (i.e., fae are demonstrably real and have attacked within living memory, everyone still wears iron to ward off the fairies, no one even likes the Children of the Blessed) I’m really curious how this came about. I’m also really doubting the book will answer.

Two other ladies walk by on the way to the market and

As they neared the acolytes, their faces twisted with identical expressions of disgust. “Faerie-loving whore,” one of them hurled at the young woman. I couldn’t disagree.

Unless part of their religion is to have sex for tithes, you could disagree. You really, really could.

I grew up in a village so similar to this—so bleak and grim. But not one month ago, a friend of my cousin went to the border as our offering to Prythian—and she has not been sent back. Now she dwells in riches and comfort as a High Fae’s bride, and so might you, if you were to take a moment to—”

??? So, that’s all it takes to convert you, the mysterious and unexplained disappearance of a loved one into a country that everyone already hates and fears?

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Feyre separates her sisters and the acolytes before a fight can happen, and then it’s on to the market. She says she’s got three options for selling her hides: a cobbler, a clothier, and a…mercenary.

I could feel the eyes of the cobbler and clothier on me, sense their feigned disinterest as they took in the satchel I bore. Fine—it would be that sort of day, then.

And so she goes to the mercenary. Um, excuse you, Feyre, that’s called “typical bartering behavior,” and you really should be used to it by now? You even admit it’s feigned disinterest, which means they really are interested. You just need to haggle some. Or do you only deal with people who are immediately and 100% salivating for your wares? Because I think I figured out how you ran out of food.

Honestly, what use would a mercenary have for animal hides? At least those other two would have incentive to haggle until they reach a good price; they need those hides for their business. A mercenary?

Is this going to be another one of those words that can mean anything, like ‘assassin’ in the Throne of Glass books?

“I don’t barter goods for my services,” she said, her voice clipped with an accent I’d never heard before. “I only accept coin.”

Seems like the kind of person not really out to buy things, more to get hired, yes? Why would Feyre ever even think that this person is a viable buyer?

And yet, because reasons, the mercenary is indeed willing to buy the hides. Is willing to overpay for them, in fact.

She shrugged. “Someone once did the same for me and mine, at a time when we needed it most. Figure it’s time to repay what’s due.”

Yup, just straight-up because reasons.

“I travel light and have no need for them. These, however”—she patted the pelts in her hands—“save me the trouble of killing them myself.”

But…but why would you ever need to kill a wolf and a deer for yourself in the first place? I don’t understand what is going on?

she reached for the coin purse inside her heavy coat. It was full—and weighed down with at least silver, possibly gold, if the clinking was any indication. Mercenaries tended to be well paid in our territory.

THEN WHY IS SHE IN THIS RUN DOWN BACKWARDS TINY VILLAGE WHERE PEOPLE HAVE NO COIN? Everything about this set up is so contrived and so senseless. I don’t understand any of it. Was there really no other way to set up the plot? What is served by a weirdly wealthy, out of place mercenary paying too much for things she doesn’t need?

The mercenary gives her some vague warnings about being wary of going too close to the walls because there are monsters that keep crossing over. (Well, fairies, but there’s a wide variety of them and only the ‘high fae’ look like humans.) We get a description of one kind of monster fairy, and some history that says humans used to be slaves to the fae before there was a widespread rebellion and then a Treaty resulting in a wall splitting their…continent? island? up into human and fairy halves.

Although this makes those Children of the Blessed EVEN MORE CONFUSING. Like, is the whole slavery/treaty thing one of those creation myths kind of stories? Or is it objectively true history?

And how did the humans ever rebellion successfully enough to orchestrate a treaty if the fairies have giant monsters that can tear up half a village in one night? And magic that can melt your bones from a hundred yards away, and other things mentioned in this chapter? This really isn’t all coming together very well.

Next we meet Isaac, who is the ‘eldest son of the only well off farmer around,’ but that’s all relative so even he’s leaner in the winter months. Isaac and Feyre have a ‘it’s complicated, and includes sex’ kind of thing going on.

Since I couldn’t afford it, Isaac himself took the contraceptive brew.

That’s a nice detail, although now I’m curious…magic? Because I really doubt there’s anything not magic that would work on both men and women for that.

The sisters all part ways, Feyre going to Isaac and the other two going shopping. After a scene break, Feyre returns home and is about to engage in more bickering when

there was a roar that half deafened me, and my sisters screamed as snow burst into the room and an enormous, growling shape appeared in the doorway.

DUN DUN DUN!

This new thing is a horse-sized mish-mash monster (lion, wolf head, horns). Feyre grabs a knife and stands between it and her sisters while it screams MURDERERS. Twice. And…like…what is it doing? It crashed down the door just to scream a bunch? We get several paragraphs of Feyre reacting and maneuvering in front of her family and such, but that’s enough time for the monster to have…IDK, at least finished coming in the house, maybe?

The thing yells some more (finally taking several steps into the house, but then, it’s horse sized, how big is their hovel? I’ve got a good sized livingroom, and I’m not sure a horse would be moving much inside there) and demands to know who killed the wolf, so Feyre admits to it.

He blinked and glanced at my sisters, then back at me, at my thinness—no doubt seeing only frailness instead. “Surely you lie to save them.”

…because Elain and Nesta look like such badass killers? I mean, shouldn’t they be every bit as frail as Feyre, and also less outdoorsey?

Feyre’s dad tries to say he killed it instead, and fairy calls HIM a liar, too. Is this creature just…really, really convinced the crying pampered girls did it?

“Did it attack you? Were you provoked?”

Okay, if this creature is willing to consider mitigating circumstances, then why did it break down the door screaming in call caps?

So the punishment for killing a fairy is a human life. Life-for-life trade.

“I didn’t know,” I said. “Didn’t know about that part of the Treaty.”

Faeries couldn’t lie—and he spoke plainly enough, no word-twisting.

“Most of you mortals have chosen to forget that part of the Treaty,” he said, “which makes punishing you far more enjoyable.”

But….why? I mean, that seems like it would be a pretty important clause, and people are scared shitless of these things, and people also have a tendency to try and smash things they’re scared of. So remembering this little detail would really be rather important. So I don’t get it, why would no one know about it? Why not just say Feyre doesn’t know because she’s never HAD to know. She grew up a rich girl, no need to know about it then, then her family became an outcast and she had to learn hunting on her own, so no thought to hike out to her hovel and go “by the way, no killing fairies, they’ll kidnap you in return.” That works fine without saying that all humans forgot about a punishment which they really need to know about.

Feyre accepts her fate stoically and just asks that the monster not kill her in front of her family, and as is typical in all fantasies, that inspires the beast to mercy so it says it can chose to “take her life” through service instead of murder. For some reason, Feyre decides to question this and has to be convinced into not dying. ????

And once again I have to say…why the fuck did this thing bust down the door? The whole “come live on my lands and be my servant” conversation really isn’t that bad on its own, but it contrasts so heavily with the intro that winds up feeling contrived.

Feyre eventually realizes that not dying is a better option than dying, and she gives some last minute advice to her family while they cower and mourn by turns.

“You were always too good for here, Feyre. Too good for us, too good for everyone.”

… …. ……………………………….. no.

Like, she’s not really been terrible thus far, but just…no. That’s a terrible line. It’s bad writing, first of all. Any character who is ‘too good for everyone’ might as well have ‘author darling’ stamped on their forehead. And beyond that it’s just…bad. If Feyre is ‘too good’ for poverty, does that imply that others are ‘deserving’ of it? Because ew.

Then her father tells her that if she ever escapes, don’t return to the family, go somewhere else and make a new life. Because she’s just too good for them.

Sigh.