for me from somewhere else?
I shook my head, trying to clear my hazy, confused thoughts. I could barely breathe as Damian with the blank eyes pressed his advantage and managed to nick my forearm with his blade before I spun out of reach. I tripped and nearly fell over a body, but when I glanced down, it wasn’t Papa or Marcel on the ground — it was General Ferraun, lying in a pool of blood, his eyes open, unseeing.
With a gasp, I jerked up my head, and Damian’s features blurred for a second and then snapped back into focus. The cloud had lightened slightly; I could see shards of daylight again, and understanding suddenly struck me. This was not Damian. It was some sort of illusion — or hallucination. But if it wasn’t Damian … who was it?
“Don’t quit on me now,” not-Damian taunted, swiping his sword toward my abdomen, but I jumped back just in time to avoid being gutted.
“I never quit.”
“Good. Because I don’t, either.” He pressed his advantage on me, his lips pulled back in a snarl. I realized he was herding me toward the door. “My king wants you alive, but that doesn’t mean you have to be functional. Perhaps even a simple vial of your blood would be sufficient, since I may have no other option.”
“Alexa!” I heard Damian’s voice again from behind me, closer now.
“No, Sire, you can’t go after her!” someone else shouted.
“I will not fail,” not-Damian growled, and finally clarity rushed in. I realized who I was fighting. My grip on my sword tightened, despite the blood running down my wrist and dripping off my hand. I leaped forward with a cry of rage. Not-Damian’s eyes widened, but so did his grin. He met my attack with a sudden increase in skill. Had he been toying with me?
I moved as fast as I could, as the cloud grew thinner and thinner around us, and slowly Damian’s features began to melt away from the man I fought, revealing eyes with abnormally large pupils and thin silver irises.
“You made a mistake,” I grunted, as I parried another hit from him and took a step back.
“Oh?” he lunged forward again, aiming for my sword arm, but I deflected him and spun around, slicing my sword through the air so quickly it whistled as it arced toward his body. He barely managed to block me, then used his sword to push me away and lunged toward me once more, aiming for my stomach. “I think not. You left me no choice except to attack now. But I never make mistakes.”
“Yes, you do,” I shouted as I jumped back, just enough to let his blade slide by me. Before he completely missed, I grabbed his wrist with my free hand and twisted him around, using his own momentum to propel him past me. Before he could react, I spun and impaled him from behind. The same way he’d killed our man only minutes before. “It was a huge mistake to think you could ever beat me.”
With a swift motion, I pulled my sword back, and he crumpled to the ground, just as the last of the fog cleared away, revealing the real Damian standing a few feet away, staring at me, his face pale, Deron and Mateo at his side, still holding him back.
Our eyes met. I wanted nothing more than to have him rush to me and take me in his arms, but he stood still, watching me, motionless.
When I looked down to see Manu lying next to the general, the adrenaline drained out of my body, leaving me trembling as I remembered I’d seen other bodies in my hallucination. Which meant …
Dread pounded within me as I slowly turned. When I saw what was behind me, a sob tore through me. Lenora lay on the ground, her throat slit, her eyes open and unseeing. And beyond her was Oliver, one of the newer guards. Jerrod knelt beside him, his sword bloody.
Jerrod looked up at us, his face drained of color. He kept shaking his head over and over. “I … I didn’t know. I thought … it wasn’t him. I swear I thought it was —” His voice broke and he stood up abruptly, throwing his sword to the ground with a clatter, and rushed from the room.
“Jerrod!” I shouted, stepping forward to follow after him, but someone grabbed my arm.
“Let him go.”
I looked up to see Damian staring down at me, his eyes haunted.