The wounds inside her were many. Controlling them all was difficult. Dilys could move an entire ocean of water with a minor flex of his sea gifts, but every broken blood vessel, every tear in a vein, was like a separate ocean to be controlled. Controlling oceans was, in fact, far easier, because this work was so delicate, requiring intense concentration and finite control. And no matter the severity of the wound, each ruptured blood vessel required the same amount of effort to control. The task taxed his abilities to their limits. And still she needed more.
Her heart was stuttering. Her body shutting down. Even working as swiftly as he could, she was dying faster than he could save her. Her life force was draining with every passing second.
He gave her his.
There was no hesitation. No question. His life had belonged to her from the moment she’d kissed him on the docks that first night. Everything his mother had given to him and all the life his own cells possessed, he poured into to her now, trying to keep her alive until the healer came to repair the damage he could not.
“You will live,moa kiri.I will not let you die.”
Her need was great. He drained himself, giving her everything except the magic he needed to keep commanding the blood in her veins and the life force he needed to keep breathing from one second to the next, and still there was no sign of the healer. He would have given her more—he would have sacrificed his own life to save hers without a second thought—but until the healer arrived to repair the damage to her organs, the only thing standing between Gabriella and death was Dilys. And Dilys was not going to last much longer without aid. He needed more energy and fast.
“Ryll, Ari, to me! I need your help!”
They had the closest connections to him, the strongest ties of love and blood. They could give him what he needed more quickly and with better results than the rest of his men, but he would drain every last drop of life force from every last Calbernan in Konumarr before he let her die.
Hands gripped his shoulders. Fresh energy—strong and powerful, life and magic freely given—poured into him. He channeled it down his body and into Summer, siphoning only enough to keep the holes and tears in her veins dammed up and keep him working to seal the rest.
Someone was still sobbing hysterically. The girl. The witness.
In Sea Tongue he snapped, “Talin—the girl, Lily... you have a connection with her?”
“Tey, Myerielua.”
“She knows too much. You must take care of it. Is your connection strong enough or do you need help?”
A hesitation, then... “Ono, Myerielua.I can do it. No aid needed.”
“Then do it. Now. Before the healer arrives.”
A moment later, he heard Talin murmuring softly to the pregnant girl, Summer’s friend, and a swell ofsusirenafilled the room.
“I was the one to kill her attacker,” Dilys instructed. “Tell her that. I am not sorry that I did, only that I did not get here sooner.”
He heard Talin murmuring in Eru, his voice rich withsusirenaas he erased Lily’s memory of Gabriella Shouting their attacker to death and replaced it with the memory of Dilys ripping the brute apart with his bare hands.
Mind control, used in this case for memory manipulation, was one of the most secret gifts left to native-born Calbernans. It was a gift Calbernans kept even from theiroulanimates. A lesson they had learned the hard way back in the days of the Sirens. People rightly feared magic that could control their minds, and when enough people regarded the source of that magic with enough fear, those people became dangerous. That was why for the last twenty-five hundred years, Calbernan sailors had made a point of seeking out and destroying all record of the Sirens, their abilities, and their fate, and spreading misinformation specifically designed to cast doubt on any surviving accounts. And why, for thousands of years, while secretly and tirelessly working to bring the full magic of the Sirens back to Calberna, Calbernans had been systematically and equally tirelessly working to turn all outlander knowledge of that magic into myth and legend.
And they had succeeded. Though Siren-lore still existed, the Sirens had become mythological creatures, rarely, if ever, associated with Calberna. And although modern Calbernan magic didn’t hold a candle to the power the Sirens of ancient times had wielded, the people of the Isles had restored enough of their ancestors’susirenagifts that allimlanicould influence thoughts and—with enough of an emotional connection to their target—even erase and supplant memories.
But Siren’s Song—true Siren Song—a Voice so powerful that it could not only control minds but also shatter solid objects and more—that was a magic that hadn’t been seen since the Slaughter.
Not until now. Not until Gabriella Coruscate.
And she was dying faster than he could work to keep her alive.
He had just managed to contain the worst of the bleeding into her lungs, when a sudden drop in blood pressure pulled his attention to her lacerated kidney. One of the large veins had torn open, sending a river of blood coursing into her abdominal cavity.
“Calbernari! To me now! We are losing her!” Desperation and fear forged a band of steel that squeezed tight around his chest, making it hard to breathe. Dozens more hands slapped down against his flesh, flooding him with power. Scores more formed chains connected to Ari and Ryll, flooding them with power that, in turn, flooded into Dilys as well. He took everything they gave, and channeled it into his efforts to stop Gabriella’s internal bleeding and keep her heart pumping. “Damn it! Where is that healer?”
“Here!” A voice called from somewhere near the back of the room. “I’m here!”
Bodies jostled as the Calbernans crowded in the room squeezed together to clear a path.
Tildavera Greenleaf, the old, gray-haired nurse he’d seen hovering around Queen Khamsin, hurried through the throng, carrying a satchel. The White King himself stormed in close on her heels.
“What the Hel is going on? Who did this?” Wynter Atrialan’s ice-blue eyes, already turning white with wintry flurries, pinned on Dilys. The temperature of Dilys’s body dropped rapidly. “Didyoudo this?”
“Not the time,” Dilys snarled through battle fangs that shot down in response to Atrialan’s insulting question. What he really wanted to say was “farkoff,” but that would have started more trouble than it was worth. He switched his attention to Tildavera Greenleaf. “You. Nurse. Her kidney... the vein burst. Can you fix it?”
