I walk through the Flora Queen’s sacred oak forest, frowning at the soldiers shadowing me.

“It’s not safe for any of you to be here.”

Had I taken a moment when I left the ballroom to consider the fact that a handful of Night soldiers would be guarding me, I’d have tried to slip past them. At the very least I’d have requested all women, considering that the Thief of Souls isn’t trying to capture them these days. Of the six soldiers surrounding me, only one is female.

“King’s ordered that we guard you,” one of them says.

It’s the same answer they’ve given me the last several times I’ve tried to shake them off.

I turn back to the forest ahead of me. Other than a few warm droplets of blood on my skin, I haven’t found anything suspicious or unsettling about this place.

Fairy lights hover between the boughs of the trees, casting the woods in an ethereal glow.

“You could always return to the dance,” one of the soldiers suggests.

Ugh. Back to those schmoozing, scheming fairies? Back to Mara with her cloaked insults and brittle smiles, or the Green Man and his leers?

“Give me a few more minutes.”

Just thinking about the Flora rulers has me rubbing my skin. There’s something off about those two.

“Callypso …”

I pause. “Did you hear that?” I ask the soldiers.

Two of them nod, their faces grim. One of them grabs my upper arm. “Time to get back to the ball, my lady.”

Of course they’re right, but I still hesitate. Finally something slightly spooky happens out here, and now I’m to be whisked away to safety.

I let them steer me back towards the gardens anyway, which I can just barely make out in the distance.

“Enchantress …”

My spine goes stiff. I glance back, towards the origin of the voice. For a split second I catch sight of a shock of white blond hair in the darkness.

“Des?” I whisper, before I can help it.

As soon as I breathe his name, my guards hesitate, looking back to the woods for their king. But where he once was is now dark as ever.

One of my guards yelps.

I whip around. “What happened?”

They glance at each other, each one as perplexed as the last. It takes a few seconds for all of us to put together what, exactly is off about the situation.

A second ago there were six soldiers at my side.

Now there are only five.

“Move, move, move!”

The soldiers don’t stop to search for their comrade. They grab me and begin hustling towards the gardens.

They’re not fast enough.

We’ve barely taken ten steps when a slew of vines drop from the treetops, reaching for one of the soldiers.

It happens in less than a second.

They wrap around his arms and shoulders and jerk him up into the canopy overhead.

“Oh, shit,” I curse.

I’ve never seen that before.

The soldier’s feet kick at empty air as the treetop swallows him up.

My wings open on reflex.

Not going to lose another soldier.

Before any of the others can stop me, I leap into the air. My wings beat furiously, lifting me toward the guard. He’s still tangled in vines, and they pin his body to the trunk of the tree.

Using my claws, I slash through the plants. But as quickly as I cut through them, more form, winding around the soldier.

What in the world?

I manage to free one of his hands, and with it, he pulls out his own sword and begins hacking away at the vines.

One of the ropey branches darts out, wrapping around his wrist and squeezing, squeezing. I hear the crack of his bones breaking. The soldier cries out, his weapon falling uselessly to the forest floor beneath us.

I rip through the plants, freeing his now mangled wrist. As I do so, I feel vines snake around my own body, twisting around my torso.

Shit.

I’m pried away from the guard, my body flung to the ground. I land on my hands and knees, and for several seconds I just rest there, breathing heavily.

The four remaining soldiers close in around me, helping me to my feet. Already several of them have their wings out. No doubt about to join me up in the canopy.

I glance above me. As I watch, the vines completely ensnare the soldier, cleaving him to the tree. 

And then—horror of horrors—with a wet rip, the trunk of the tree parts around the fairy and begins to suck him in.

“Holy fuck.”

Once more, my wings flare out, but the remaining soldiers hold me fast.

“We need to leave,” one of them says.

But I can’t look away.

It only takes seconds for the trunk of the tree to fully wrap around the fairy and then another several seconds for it to reseal, starting at the soldier’s feet and working its way up, leaving a thin line of blood in its wake.

And then it’s over.

A tree just swallowed a soldier before my eyes.

I did this. I led these guards into this sinister-ass forest, and now two men are gone.

I spend several seconds glaring at the treetops and berating myself as they lead me away before I remember.

I am the Night King’s mate. I’m no victim, I’m a survivor, a fighter.

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. You will listen to me, and you will follow my orders.”

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

I turn around, 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.

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 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 a sword.

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 can 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 with 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.

What’s left of my 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.

That is not a sight you see every day.

I drop my sword, and together with my guards we pull out the coughing soldier from the heart of the tree.

He pants, pulling off fine, spindly roots that seem to have wedged their way under his skin and into his veins.

“Thank you,” he wheezes to his comrades, clasping one of them on the shoulder. His eyes move over the group until they find me.

The rescued guard gets up, dusting dirt and bark off of himself. He kneels before me, taking my hand and pressing it to his forehead. “I owe you more than just my allegiance, my queen. I vow that as long as I live, my shield and my sword will protect you. My life is yours.”