Free Siren's Song by Mary Weber Page A

another room.”
    â€œCan you help him?”
    When the woman doesn’t respond, I look to Kenan.
    â€œThey blasted well better help him.” He presses me aside and slips his other arm beneath Eogan as two female guards ready their hands to assist him.
    My fingers fall from the back of Eogan’s neck as they pick up the king, only to feel warm blood surge. It gushes and falls in large droplets onto the shiny floor, but I don’t have time to care because I’m stalking their heels as they rush him away.
    We’re halfway down the crystal hall when someone bumps my arm. Lady Isobel. She’s accompanied by Lord Myles and the rest of the Luminescent guards. I frown and turn, but her hand on my arm slows me as she leans in with a look that has lost its amusement. “Turn yourself and Queen Laiha over to my father when he arrives,” she hisses. “And he may be inclined to spare the rest of these people along with Faelen. If not . . .” She sneers. “They’re all going to die because of you.”
    A crash of thunder rattles the crystalline ceiling and walls. It’s the only sign I’ve heard her as I fling her hand off and rush after the Cashlins and Kenan carrying Eogan. Because whether or not Lady Isobel actually believes her own words, I’m not daft enough to.
    The room they’ve taken Eogan to is less than thirty paces down the first staircase. Kenan releases Eogan to a third Cashlin right as I reach them at the doorway. We’ve just entered when a disturbance behind us catches Kenan’s attention. He wheels around, causing me to nearly slam into him.
    His expression narrows.
    Is she jesting? I turn to tell Lady Isobel to go to—
    â€œI’m told this one is yours.” The guard striding toward us is oozing disapproval as he holds Kel by the collar of his black-and-red Bron airship captain’s uniform. “He insisted on being brought to you after he’d been adequately questioned.”
    The tiny seven-year-old’s giant, white-toothed grin and the guard’s limp say Kel did more than insist.
    â€œThank you. I’ll take him from here.” When the man moves away, Kenan growls at his son, “I’m pleased you’re alive, but you shouldn’t have joined us.”
    â€œYes, Father, but . . .”
    I shove past them and head into the room, leaving them to sort out their family disagreement beneath the watchful eyes of the Luminescent guards hovering around them.
    Crisp white and golden linens curtain the entire room, spreading over more glass walls and the room’s single furniture item—a bed. Just like the rest of the palace, the scent of icy death permeates the air, causing my stomach to roll.
    The guards place Eogan facedown on the small cot. Oh litches.
    I hurry over to the foot of it and try to hold back my horror as the cut on Eogan’s upper back oozes more blood in dark, ribboned streams across his shoulders and neck. It stains the impeccably bright bedsheets.
    â€œGive me a rag,” one of the Cashlins is saying, and when she glances up at her companions, her eyes are glowing red. “And a needle. And get the Prestere.”
    The room erupts into controlled chaos. One person moves to obey and another cuts off the rest of Eogan’s cloak and tunic.
    â€œMiss, we need you to leave.”
    I blink. What?
    It’s the young Cashlin male. I frown.
    â€œWe have to work on him, but in order to do so, we need as much room as possible. And as little . . .” He glances down at my hands that are somehow both clenched into fists, and I know he’s sensing my fear. My anger. He’s hearing the atmosphere outside rattling a storm bigger than anything they’re used to.
    I peer over at Kenan who’s striding in with Kel. The boy looks subdued, but the expression on the large man’s face says he’ll tear anyone limb from limb if they try to remove him from his