Tree Singer by Jacci Turner (best novels for beginners TXT) 📕

gate was firmly shut, blocking the entrance to the castle. Two guards wearing leather helms and tall boots stood sentry in front of the gate. The castle’s second story stood high above the wall with several arched windows facing the sea. Mayten lost her breath as she gazed up at the fabled castle. Up close, it was a rather imposing building. The windows looked huge, taller than she was.

What would it be like to wake up to that view every day?

Though her village faced the sea, it was still at least a two-day walk to get to the Ocean Clan where her sisters lived. She’d only visited once for a festival and she’d been ten at the time. There had been more sand and less rocks on the beaches of the Ocean Clan.

The coastline here was rugged and wild. Just looking at the ocean made her stomach feel queasy. It all looked so vast, so empty.

How had her sisters adjusted to life by the ocean? She would much rather look at the trees, which felt cozy and welcoming. Mayten made a mental note to ask her sisters that very question when she got home.

If she got home.

The darkness she’d been experiencing the past few days nudged the edges of her mind, a darkness so sinister she wondered if anyone could defeat it.

The guards moved to open the gate. Evidently the men had been warned of their approach.

“There’s not much security here,” Tray whispered as they passed through the gate. “These two guards are well past their prime which tells me the king doesn’t think there’s much of a threat. He has a whole garrison of soldiers if he needs them. I wonder where they are?”

“As I understand it,” Mayten said, “the threat is not to the castle, but to the trees and to the seasons.”

“The seasons?” Tray raised an eyebrow.

“It’s hard to explain . . .” She stopped. They were standing in an enormous yard covered with a tough grass she had never seen before. Carved wooden children’s toys and buckets and large spoons cluttered the yard. A woman and a boy, wearing simple clothes of a thin material, were pulling a wagon across the lawn and piling the toys into it as fast as they could. Two men, similarly dressed, were clipping the uneven grass and trimming hedges.

“I think we got here sooner than they expected,” said Tray. “They seem to be cleaning up. Maybe it’s a good thing we were seen at the pond.”

“Feels a bit like home,” Mayten said, nodding at the toys. “Does the king have a lot of children?”

“I don’t know,” said Tray. “People seem to like him. But . . . I guess I never paid much attention to anything else.”

“I heard he’s handsome.” Cather blushed and Tray’s eyes narrowed. “And that he does have quite a few children.”

A portly, older man with skin like old leather stood in front of the large wooden doors. The man wore a green cap and matching shirt with puffed sleeves, and his face was flushed as if he’d been rushing around. His short brown pants were tucked into front-laced, knee-high boots. He took off his hat in a sweeping bow.

“Welcome,” he said, in a rather high voice. His mustache was waxed into two round curls and his beard had been combed into a sharp triangle.

Mayten clenched her teeth against the giggle bubbling in her throat. Judging by the sparkle in Cather’s eyes, her friend was suffering the same trouble.

“I’m Sir Thornton Underbrush, the king’s secretary.”

Mayten clenched her jaw even harder.

“The king has asked me to greet you and make you comfortable before dinner. Madam Singer?” The man glanced from Mayten to Cather.

“Yes,” Mayten said.

“Is this your dog?” He stared at Anatolian, still wet from his recent swim and smelling rather musky.

“Yes, sir. His name is Anatolian.”

The man snapped his fingers. The young boy with curly dark hair dropped the toy he’d just picked up into the wagon and ran up to them, grinning. “Take the dog and wash it good, Edward. When the animal is dry you may take it to the singer’s room.”

Anatolian looked at her with worried eyes, but Mayten couldn’t see a way to get around the secretary’s request. She patted Anatolian’s back and signaled for him to go.

“Thank you, Sir Underbrush,” Tray said. Mayten wondered at his ability to say the name without laughing.

In her clan, names indicated a family’s calling. What kind of calling could Underbrush belong to? The pulling of weeds?

“I’m Tray Traveler. This is Cather Healer.”

Sir Underbrush bowed low again, his belly lapping over his belt and straining his shirt buttons. She got the feeling it had been a while since he’d worn these clothes.

Was the king trying to show off for his visitors or was Sir Underbrush? This whole welcome seemed oddly confusing. She’d expected castle life to be more organized.

They followed Sir Underbrush through the entrance into the castle and found they were standing in a high-ceilinged room. Beyond the room stretched a long, narrow hallway with arched, open doorways on either side. She could just make out a flight of stairs at the far end of the hall.

Light from the second-story windows cast long shadows down the hall. The secretary led the way, his gait more waddle than walk. His pants strained at the seams as he moved.

The poor guy must be miserable.

Sir Underbrush stopped in front of the first open archway to the right and gestured for them to enter. Mayten’s mouth fell open. She had expected something elegant and kingly. Instead, they entered a large sitting room with overstuffed leather couches and chairs in a variety of patterns. A large bookcase filled one part of the room, shelves stuffed full of books that looked like they had actually been read. Books were lying open on tables and those in the bookcase lay at odd angles in no discernible arrangement.

She’d never seen so many books in one place!

A variety of overlapping rugs of various sizes and a cacophony of colors made