Tree Singer - Jacci Turner (the reader ebook .TXT) 📗

hold she had on the count’s energy as her life force drained away.

Chapter Thirty-One

Mayten felt herself weakening against the count’s attack. Her knees buckled, her body wanted sleep, her eyes drifted closed.

The sound of pounding feet broke through the haze that seemed to be everywhere. She forced her eyes open and struggled to see what was happening. The prince was running toward them, eyes wide, mouth open.

“Let go of my sister!” The prince’s voice, wild and filled with . . . fear?

“What is this?” Adven’s growl, fiercer than ever and a bit . . . confused? He ran toward them from another direction, deep lines of concern on his face.

She opened her mouth, tried to shout a warning as the pair raced up, but the words seemed trapped in her throat. She felt more than saw the prince and Adven make the same mistake, grabbing at the count’s wrist and arm.

Both went still as frozen statues.

“How nice. A foursome.” The count’s chuckle pierced Mayten’s soul. “I’ve never had more than two at once. This should be delectable.”

Images flickered in and out of her mind. Trees drained of life, animals, people she did not know . . . those who’d given their lives so the count could live?

She could feel Adven and the prince resisting, the princess weakening . . .

This was all her fault. Mayten had known something was off about the count yesterday when she’d gotten a glimpse of him watching Anatolian at play. He’d looked so young in that moment, so familiar.

But she hadn’t made the connection to the face in her vision. Not then. Yes, she’d suspected the singer was close by. She’d even suspected Rafe. She should have told Adven of her suspicions . . .

But the count always seemed so friendly, so kind . . .

Nothing like the man looming over her, anticipation and greed dancing in his eyes. Soon they would all be nothing but empty husks drained of their life energy.

Why oh why hadn’t she listened to her gut? Made the others turn around, report back to the king.

Go back home.

You wanted approval, that’s why. And now you’ve failed in your quest, disappointed the king, your clan, and your mother. These folks are going to die because you failed—

:Use your skill, Daughter.:

The voice was so faint it took a moment for Mayten to realize it had even spoken. One of the trees? Her mother?

Thinking of her mother was enough to help her focus. She had the ability to draw energy just like the count did.

Could she weaken the man? Somehow get away?

Taking energy is against the Singer’s Code, a little voice in her head whispered. The only offense worthy of death.

Was she willing to become a murderer to save the others?

Self-defense is not murder. A different voice, stronger this time. Definitely not her mother. One of the trees?

“Stop fighting, little singer,” the count hissed. “It’ll be much easier if you just let go.”

Emotions swirled through her body, interrupting her thoughts, plunging her first into despair (how she missed her family), then into guilt (why had she left her mother without telling her how much she loved her?), stirring up hurt (why did Adven hate her so?), dredging up grief (would she ever stop crying when she thought about Hunter?) and . . . other feelings (like how her stomach fluttered when the prince smiled at her).

Unfamiliar images and emotions pelted her from all sides—betrayal as a man she’d never seen before yet felt that she loved had chosen to join with her sister so she decided to study . . . plants?

Those are Nan’s emotions. Nan’s memories. Being drained from her along with her life energy. The princess was slipping away.

Mayten focused on the count’s hand, feeling each finger where they gripped. She could not—would not—let the count win. It didn’t matter that taking energy was against her code. Her friends’ lives were at stake.

Life energy is your specialty, she reminded herself. No one here knew energy like she did.

Except the count.

She forced herself to relax, to slip into the same focused state she used when conversing with the trees . . .

And immediately felt her energy rushing away. The world spun and she was suddenly oh, so tired. If she could only let go for a moment . . . She couldn’t do this alone. She didn’t have the training, didn’t have the strength . . .

More images pelted her mind and she found herself gazing at her mother, a much younger version who looked very much like the reflection Mayten saw in the mirror every day. She’d never seen her mother this young . . .

These are Adven’s memories.

The questor had been in love with her mother.

The images tumbled over each other, leaving brief impressions behind—Mother joining with Da; Adven running off into the woods . . .

He’d run into a bear and had half his face ripped off, almost dying during the healing.

No wonder he hates me. I look just like my mother.

No wonder her mother had chosen not to come on this mission. She and Adven had a history together.

Explains why he hates singers.

More images swirled through her mind, shifting her focus from Adven to . . . the prince? He appeared to be gazing at someone he felt a strong attraction to—

Shock set her skin tingling. The face he fixated on was hers! Not Cather’s. Not someone else.

Her.

She got the impression he’d found her beautiful—beautiful!—the first moment he’d seen her—

Nan groaned. Mayten could feel the princess sagging to the ground, energy ebbing so low she could barely sense it.

She had to do something, but what? The count was older, wiser, stronger, and she was only a girl . . .

:You aren’t alone, Daughter. We’re here, standing beside you.:

An image of her family in their thanks-giving circle flowed into her mind, their bare feet connected to the earth and sky and everything in between, a place of love, strength, and identity.

I am not alone. She had the trees, she had her family and the wisdom of a long line of singers, and she had her friends, her team.

:Help the princess.: She sent out the cry mentally, reaching for her connection to the trees.

Would it work?

She