Here's a nice long chapter for you, after the wait. Some of the dialogue in this chapter was taken directly from the start of ACOTAR, if it looks familiar.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot. It all belongs to Sarah J. Maas.

Feyre

"I don't know whether to be relieved or apprehensive that it worked so well," I admitted to Nesta as we trudged up the hill from the village towards where our cottage stood.

"Be neither then," she told me, lips pursed as she used her position of further up on the hill than me to peer over my head and observe the still bustling village below us. "Be grateful."

It was near sunset, and most of those over eighteen had been awake since before sunset the previous day to fight and die before the faeries, then to clean up the mess in their wake. There was some sort of unspoken understanding amongst the villagers as they tallied the dead that this was the last straw. We wouldn't be able to hold out against them again. I wouldn't be surprised if I woke up the following morning and found the town deserted, it's residents fled.

Nesta and I were looking into where we could run, ourselves.

Suddenly, my eldest sister's brow clouded in a dark writhing fury I'd initially thought she reserved for our father. Before I could interpret it further, she'd shoved past me and stormed back down into the village. I spun on my heels, and in my surprise my eyes tracked head brassy head, and not the unholy smear of white that had her so riled up.

"How dare you come here! How dare you show your faces with your simpering smiles and fools' faith after what happened last night!"

It was an instant after those words blared that I registered the situation, and that familiar feeling of irritation welled up inside me. The Children of the Blessed. They couldn't have chosen a worse time to show up. I sighed.

"May the Immortal Light shine upon thee, sisters," chimed the woman - no more than a girl, really - in the front. I eyed her warily; the acolytes had been known to be somewhat dangerous when angered. Though I was loath to admit it, she did look like some sort of light shone on her. She had moon-white skin that unmarred by any blemish or smudge, and even her hair seemed to glint unnaturally in the steely sunlight. Her fellow acolytes behind her were similarly radiant.

The acolyte waved her hand, and the sound of tinkling drew my eyes to the bells made of real silver at her wrist. The legends said that faeries could be drawn to a spot by the sound of bells, more so if they were of silver or gold. I felt my eyes widen at the thought of what the faeries that had survived last night would make of it, if the legends were true. I turned to exchange a glance with Nesta, but her lips were already curling back from her teeth.

She took an aggressive step forward, and yanked the sleeve of her gown up to her elbow. The acolytes recoiled as though they were faeries themselves at the band of dark grey braided iron encircling Nesta's wrist. I had no idea why she was wearing it after Tamlin and Lucien had explicitly told us themselves that it had no effect, but there it sat, and the twist to my sister's mouth told me she wouldn't be taking it off anytime soon.

"How dare you wear that affront to our immortal friends-"

"How dare you wear those bells and try to call those monsters to our village! You wander like the headless fools you are, hoping to recruit more likeminded folk to your cult, but you weren't here last night. You didn't see your fellow villagers and humans fall before them like grass in wind. So don't you dare tell me that they are harmless, that they are good, when the blood of your own species still floods the streets."

"Well said," appraised a rough voice behind us. Nesta started, and I turned to see the mercenary we'd conversed with last night standing behind us, her many weapons lining her waist like the teeth of some gaping maw.

The acolyte marched on with her tirade. I wasn't sure if she was really so stupid as to think that she could still convince us, or trying to defend the cause she loved. "Our benevolent masters would never hurt us. Prythian-"

"Is above the Wall." I said flatly, and went on to lie with, "It's likely not to become relevant anytime soon. You're fighting an uphill battle."

Her brown eyes flicked to me, perhaps for the first time. She glanced at my wrist, and when she beheld no iron band - when we'd had the money to buy them, only Nesta and Elain had bothered - she beamed, as though she'd labelled me as a potential convert. "A worthy cause," she said cheerfully.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the mercenary beat me to it. "No." She cut her off. "It's not."

The girl visibly deflated, and as we moved away, she and her group didn't try to follow.

"Fools and fanatics," the mercenary dismissed, gaze following them as they turned, then she fixed her eyes on me and Nesta. "I'd have thought you'd have the wherewithal to dispatch them sooner. It certainly seemed so yesterday."

I gritted my teeth. Once we'd commenced our temporary truce, Nesta, Elain and I had gone into the town in an attempt to convince the villagers to fight back. The hostile relationships between us and the main body of the village had slowed down discussions considerably, but by the time an hour had passed, we'd recruited the more reasonable ones, like Isaac, to our side. The main barrier was that they refused to believe the attack was coming, since we refused to explain where we'd heard it from. I didn't want to know what sort of abuse we'd receive if they found out we'd been harbouring two faeries.

Even the support we'd had was waning before the mercenary, who'd been quietly listening from where she was perched on the lip of the fountain, had chimed in with, "They're right. With the increase in faerie orchestrated attacks from across the Wall lately, I wouldn't be surprised if they were to target this village."

One of the men - Tomas Mandray's father, the one who beat his wife - had whirled around to sneer at the mercenary, before he'd caught sight of her knives, and shut his mouth. But he struggled out, "How?"

The mercenary had stood, and walked towards their knot of people. She'd jerked her chin at me and said, "The girl's plan sounds like a strong one. And they're right when they say that unless you want to leave your entire livelihoods behind to be ransacked and looted, thus leaving you without an income, you can't get far enough out of this village in time to escape the massacre. Which leaves the option of standing and fighting, and maybe surviving, or lying down before them as they slaughter you and your family and burn your fields to ash." She'd used one fingernail to tap the steel at her waist; the sound clinked unnaturally loudly in the sudden silence. "You could always join the Children of the Blessed, I suppose, and hope they would grant you mercy, but the last fanatical fool to go over the Wall never came back."

"Then why haven't they cottoned on to the fact that they're monsters?" I'd asked, before I could stop myself.

The mercenary nodded towards the eastern horizon. "They were in the last village I visited, preaching about how she'd become a High Fae's wife, and wanting for nothing." The mercenary had snorted. "But that's not relevant. What's important is that you listen to this girl here, and grab the only shot of survival you have by the throat before it gets away from you, and you're lost to the bloodshed."

"We'll die either way," one of the men had said.

"Of course you will. But which odds do you prefer? The fifty-fifty chance of winning or losing, or the certainty that if you don't resist, you're carrion?"

The men had murmured amongst themselves, shifting their feet relentlessly, but they'd capitulated soon enough and begun to listen to what we had to say.

Now, I answered the mercenary's question with a simple, "They can get nasty when riled."

"I bet." Her gaze sliced to them, then back again. "But you managed to shoot down faerie soldiers who were far more threatening than those buffoons last night. Where's the difference?"

I involuntarily looked to Nesta, whose brow creased in confusion, then something like grim understanding as I said, "In the cause."

The mercenary clicked her tongue, but remained silent. "Where'd you learn how to shoot like that, girl?"

I swallowed, and purposely avoided glancing at Nesta. She hadn't made a single "half-wild beast" comment for over twenty four hours, and I would've liked to keep it that way. Instead I answered vaguely, "I taught myself how to hunt."

The mercenary's eyebrow knitted together. "But there aren't any decent woods round here to hunt in-" She glanced towards the forest just visible north of the village, amongst which was the legendary Wall that divided human and faerie. I suspected that very Wall was the only reason we'd survived the encounter; that, and the commander's undoubtable arrogance leading them to only being able to bring a small force through. "You go into wolf territory - close to the border with the faerie territory - to hunt?"

I shrugged with feigned nonchalance, and when I glanced at Nesta, her face was oddly still. "I do what I need to do."

The mercenary had very interesting eyes, that artistic, useless part of me observed as they flicked between me and Nesta. Primarily black, with speckles of brown and bottle green that made them fascinating from up close. Fascinating eyes, that saw far too much when they looked.

Finally the woman said, "I see."

I'm sure you do.

I didn't voice the words though, and instead bit out a quick, polite farewell and went to jog up the hill when her voice pulled me back like a thread. "Those letters you wrote-"

I flinched at the mention of it. It'd been Elain's idea to notify the authorities in the larger towns on the mortal part of the island, and to sent letters across the sea to the mainland, to warn of the attack. To warn that our unfriendly neighbours had just crossed a line in the sand, and couldn't be relied not to cross it again. The village elders had approved the idea, and asked me to write it, as the one who had made it happen, as though it was somehow my fault they'd launched the attack. Of course, being unable to read or write, I'd dictated it instead, whilst Elain wrote. Now we had six beautifully sealed envelopes marked in my sister's flowering script, ready to be sent to each of the mortal queens.

"-would you like me to deliver them?"

The offer caught me off guard, and I whirled to face her, but she seemed to be sincere. I opened my mouth but she explained curtly, "I'm headed to the mainland as it is - I can't find much work here, with the country being so poor. And I'm the only person in town who owns a horse they're not planning on using to carry as many of their wordly possessions on as possible when they split. As a mercenary, I'll be able to get them delivered."

"Alright," Nesta said, eyes glittering. "We'll go and fetch them now, and then we'll meet you at the tavern in an hour."

She nodded. "Fine."

The walk back up to the cottage was silent, though it was simply a lack of anything to say, than a need to say nothing. It was only when we'd reached the front door, and the stupid, stupid carvings that were meant to ward against faeries crunched beneath our feet, that Nesta said, "You'd better teach me how to shoot a bow the moment we get out of this hellhole."

I laughed a little. "Deal."

I sensed something was wrong the moment we crossed the threshold. The scent of blood stung my nostrils, and I pivoted where I stood, taking in the splinters of what had been the table I'd painted foxgloves on in the wrong shade of blue. The few plates we had were smashed on the floor, and the window was smashed in, the lead and glass glinting like lethal rain on the floor.

It was Nesta who found her voice first.

"Elain?"

The name dropped like a stone, but received no answer.

"Elain!"

Her voice was becoming steadily more frantic.

"ELAIN!"

In a sort of daze, I moved away from my oldest sister, and shook off her hand when she grabbed for me. I moved into the bedroom, saw the bed we'd shared, and rummaged under it for where I'd shoved my bow a few hours before, still sticky with blood. It was dried now, and flakes of it flaked across my hands as I pulled it out. I didn't know what I was planning on shooting in a house empty save for me and Nesta, but it was nevertheless a comfort to have it in my hand.

I emerged from the room just in time to se Nesta throw the table leg flowering with painted daisies at the wall. It split in two with an ugly crack.

"They're gone."

We both whirled to see Lucien curled up in a ball against the wall, spattered in blood. Not even the mask on his face hid how distraught and shattered he looked, and his bronze eye whirred as he looked up at us.

Nesta was already marching towards him, but halted when he flinched. "Where is she." She said icily. Not a question, but a command.

"They're gone." He repeated. "The Attor and the other faeries came, and took her, and they took Tamlin as well, even though he fought back." Indeed, lots of the shreds in the wall appeared to have been made by claws. "He glamoured me, and let them think I'd run, and then they took him and Elain and now I don't know where they are." His breathing was hard and fast. "They're gone."

The world had quietened. There was an insistent, tugging pressure on my mind. But even so I heard what Nesta spat with perfect clarity as she turned on me. "This is your fault."

Too much sound too much death too much blood- "How?"

Her eyes narrowed, until the silver lining them turned them to the edges of glinting coins. "You led them here. If you hadn't been so determined to play hero, and save the whole damned village, instead of running like any sane person, they wouldn't've come after us and they wouldn't've taken Elain!"

The pressure worsened. "In case you've forgotten, if we hadn't fought back we'd've been slaughtered!"

"We knew about the attack far earlier than anyone else! We don't have any livelihood anyway. We could've run and made it far enough away in time that we could warn the next village over what was happening. But instead you decided to argue with those old snobs who have done absolutely nothing for us the whole time we've been here!"

There was a further fight to be had here, but it wasn't a fight worth picking. "Let's not talk about this now."

"When are we going to talk about it then?"

"After we've gotten Elain out." The pressure was getting worse and worse and worse and now my head was pounding and I couldn't think straight- "Help." I said, more to clear my thoughts than to voice a corporeal idea. "We need help."

Help. Please, anybody help.

The pressure eased suddenly, so suddenly I was sent staggering back and had to lean against a wall to regain my bearings. Nesta and Lucien seemed to be arguing now, but I couldn't tune into what they were saying.

Then that pressure returned, but this time with a voice that was both alien and familiar, and reverberated through my skull. What do you need help with?

Instead of answering with words, I threw the situation across this phantom bond, all tied up and desperate like a bag of stones packed tightly together. The voice was silent for a moment, before it said, I see.

That was the moment I was certain I was going mad.

Even so- Please, please, please help. If you can.

The response was instantaneous. And what would you give me in return?

I looked around me, as the floor I was sitting on as I slid down the wall. At Nesta and Lucien, now silent, staring at me with terrified eyes. Because yes, that was terror in Nesta's eyes, and enough rage to burn the world down and turn it into her own personal hell. I took in the shattered remains of my paintings, the shambles of the cottage, the cold emptiness where Elain should've been.

I had so little to give, but for this, I would've given the world.

Anything.

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