Free Siren's Song by Mary Weber Page B

king.
    â€œMiss . . .”
    I turn back to the guard. “I’ll stay out of the way, but I’m not leaving him.”
    I’ve been away from him too long, fought too hard to be banished from his side when we don’t even know what’s wrong or how in hulls to help him. I back against the wall as Kel shuffles over to join me. He stands very official and stiff-like with his little hands behind his back and his black-eyed gaze solemn.
    The Cashlin purses his lips, then nods, and somehow we both know he understands and that there’s not enough time to argue anyway. A moment longer and the Luminescents are huddling around Eogan, blocking my view while I’m striving to hear any hint of him breathing. Is he breathing? Litches, Eogan, please be breathing.
    Beside me, Kel is speaking again to his father, conveying something that has his whole little face strained. “I tried, Father. I couldn’t help him.”
    Kenan nods at me. “He speaks of the child Soren—the other captain. He’s dead.”
    What? I glance at Kel. I will unleash a hailstorm on every Luminescent in this wretched place if they killed a child. “What happened?”
    â€œWhen the ship crashed, it . . . it broke his neck, I think.”
    I sink beside him. “Kel, I’m—”
    His onyx face blushes furiously and he scowls. “I’m not a baby.”
    I rise just as quickly. “Of course you’re not. But I’m sad about this.”
    The furrowed lines in his brow ease slowly, until he nods once and slips his hand into mine while his father steps over to the bed.
    One minute drags by.
    Two minutes.
    Five minutes of me standing there with bated lungs, swearing internally over the lives we’ve lost and at the life in front of us that I’m scared we’re losing. Blast, Eogan, fight this or I will kill you myself.
    Suddenly Queen Laiha’s words float through my foggy head. “You’ll need to hurry if you want to save him.”
    I squint. What exactly had she meant? I look up at the Luminescents surrounding him. Was she speaking of Eogan? Are we wasting our time?
    Does she know how to save him?
    Kenan emerges from the bustle of bodies and approaches. His onyx face has sallowed.
    My heart deflates. “Is he—?”
    A tight shake of his head. “He’s still here. For now.”
    â€œI need to speak to the queen,” I say in a low tone. “I’m going to find her. Don’t leave his side until I return.” I don’t wait for his reply before releasing Kel and stepping toward the door. But I’ve not even tugged on the fancy etched glass when a man my height, dressed in a long purple robe and smelling of floral cinnamon, pushes it open and nearly collides into me.
    â€œPardon,” I snap.
    He ignores me and shuffles in, mumbling something incoherent and bringing me to frown as I turn to see the Luminescents and Cashlins moving away in order for the short purple man to stand solely over Eogan.
    Still mumbling, he inspects Eogan, until after a moment I draw closer to inspect him too. The blood is cleaned up, but it only makes the bruising appear stronger, deeper, as if the bones in Eogan’s back have been broken. My stomach turns to sand. Was he suffering while we were speaking earlier? Was that his hesitation? His nervousness?
    â€œCan you help him?” I ask the purple man.
    The mumbling fool ignores me and sets a basket on the bed, from which he pulls a clear glass jar filled with an orange substance. There’s a slight popping sound as he lifts the lid, and then he swipes his fingers into the thick orange cream and spreads it along the length of the gash on the back of Eogan’s neck. When the liquid touches the layers of torn muscle and skin, they sizzle and let off a sharp, acrid smell that fills the room.
    I step forward. “What in hul—?” But Kenan is beside me, grabbing my arm.
    â€œWait,” he