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I’m someone’s nightmare.

“Let me go,” I say calmly.

The soldiers ignore me.

“I said,let me go.” This time when I speak, it comes out as a command.

“My lady—” one of them protests.

I begin to glow. “This is not how you treat your king’s mate. Youwilllisten to me, and youwillfollow my orders.”

Now they do listen. Their hands fall to their sides.

I turn around before stalking back to the tree, my skirts swishing around my ankles. “Men,” I call over my shoulder, “leave this place and go find your king. It’s not safe for you here.”

This time, they don’t follow my order. Seconds after I give it, all four remaining soldiers flank me. “We’re not leaving you,” one of them says.

I want to growl at them. Surely, they know how dangerous this is for them.

But I push my worry and frustration aside. I can only focus on one thing at a time.

Several feet away lies the captured soldier’s sword. I grab it then face off with the tree that ate one of Des’s men.

This was a bad day to piss me off.

I pull the sword back like a baseball bat, well aware that this is not how you hold the weapon.

One of the soldiers at my back says, “It’s against the law to cut down—”

I swing the blade, embedding it into the tree trunk. With a swift yank, I jar the sword out.

“I’m not cutting the tree down,” I say over my shoulder.

WHACK.

I strike the trunk again.

“I’m saving one of my guards.”

Again, I yank the blade from the bark, wood splintering away as I do so.

“There’s a difference.”

There’s not really a difference. Sure, my goal isn’t to cut the tree down, but I probably will chop the fucker down to save this soldier.

The tree moans, and I hear the neighboring ones hissing at me, some of their branches bending down and swiping at the group of us.

I’m pretty sure I just made enemies of the oaks.

I look over my shoulder at the guards at my back. “Well, are you all going to just stand there, or are you going to help me get your comrade out?”

That’s all the encouragement they need.

My remaining guards and I take turns sawing into the tree trunk, bits of bark splintering off with every hit. The tree begins shrieking, the ungodly sound carrying through the woods.

We do this until we see a swath of skin.

The night soldier is still cocooned in vines, his body curled inside the core of the tree.