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I blink my eyes slowly and can see her standing not even ten yards from me. Suddenly, we’re back in my room and she is wearing nothing but my shirt.
Then, silver snakes appear from the walls and circle around her arms and legs, binding her to them.
I take a deep breath and force myself to focus. The phantom images are tinged in purple, but whatever is real appears a little more dull and faded.
The faded images draw my attention. Khijihana attacks a wall, her claws loosening the stones in her ferocity.
Then there is Gunnar. He is looking at me strangely; his features are coated with fear, pain, and rage. I ignore the purple versions of him and focus on the real thing as he raises his axe high into the air and charges toward me.
He swings the weapon with a blinding speed. It takes all my strength to wrench the thing away and toss it to the other side of the room. Gunnar is strong, stronger than any warrior I’ve battled. It takes far more effort to fight him without injuring him than to simply defend myself.
“Gunnar! It’s me,” I grunt out as he lands a kick in my gut.
His head shakes in confusion before he launches at me again. Suddenly, I see a younger version of him, staring up at me with suspicion from behind his sister’s back. Not a vision this time, but a memory of the boy I saved.
I will not be the one responsible for his death now. So, I dodge and block him, trying to fight him off, but he is quick, too quick. He lunges for me again. Just as I come to the realization that I will have to risk a minor injury for the sake of knocking him out, his attention shifts.
He shouts and kicks at the air, nearly falling over in the process as he defends himself from his phantom attacker.
I creep behind him, but he spins toward me with a low sweep of his legs. My body moves out of the way just in time to avoid being knocked off my feet.
A frustrated groan escapes me. I trained Gunnar myself, extensively, and I only manage to best him at sparring about half of the time.
That’s when he isn’t actively trying to kill me.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Zaina
Iam carefully maneuvering my hair pin into the lock of the shackle when Einar and Gunnar quite literally crash into the room. They alternate between facing off with each other and the air around them, like they’re fending off invisible assailants.
Their eyes are glazed over, their pupils dilated as they swing wildly at nothing. Khijha even bounds into the room with a strange look in her eye, like she doesn’t recognize the men at her side.
I’m trying to piece it all together, to understand what happened, when Dvain appears in the doorway. He grabs items from his desk as quickly as possible, shoving them into his bag with all the confidence of a man who believes he is unseen. Looking at the oblivious men and chalyx, I realize it’s partially true.
Then it hits me. He’s drugged them.
Of course he has.
Haven’t I seen Madame do this very thing to her prisoners countless times? Making them believe they were drowning on dry land? Or that birds were surrounding them and pecking at their skin?
Forcing my limbs to move as quickly as possible, I finally unlock one of the shackles around my wrist. The chain falls to the ground, sliding out of the metal loop on the wall. Gunnar and Einar are still fighting, but at least my husband seems more lucid than his guard.
“What did he give you?” I ask, working on the shackles around my ankles.
Einar angles toward me, but the distraction earns him a punch to the shoulder. He lets out a sharp breath, turning back to Gunnar.
“A hallucinogen in the air. Purple and green liquid that swirled. I’m not sure what it was.” He dodges another jab.
From the corner of my eye, I see Dvain leaving the adjacent room. Escaping.
Sands.
My muscles are tense with the need to go after him, but Einar is fending off vicious attacks from his most skilled guard while he’s under the influence of poison himself. Not to mention the angry, confused chalyx clawing the walls right now. Who knows when she will turn on the two men, incidentally or not?
Gunnar’s attacks shift to an invisible nothing beside him and Einar takes the opportunity to look at me, following my furious, uncertain gaze to Dvain’s fleeing form.
“Go,” he says. “I can handle this.”
