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

the room feel warm, cozy, and slightly confused as if it were a room well lived in. The king must be more interested in comfort than order.

“I’ll have the servants bring you something from the kitchen while your rooms are being prepared,” Sir Underbrush said. He gave a brief bow . . . and something ripped

Mayten covered her mouth, biting a knuckle to keep from laughing.

Sir Underbrush flushed, backed out of the room . . . and bumped into a great bear of a man with a bushy red beard and a mass of black hair. The newcomer’s skin reminded her of teakwood. He had a broad, flat nose and full lips, not unlike the lumbermen who helped her mother manage the forest.

The man took one look at Sir Underbrush and bellowed a laugh, slapping him on the shoulder so hard that the secretary took a step forward.

“Good heavens, Thornton,” the bearded man boomed. “What on earth are you wearing?”

“You told me to greet the guests, sir. I just thought . . .”

“I told you to greet them, not scare them to death. Go and change at once, you look ridiculous.” He moved to one side and gave the secretary a push out the doorway.

Sir Underbrush gave them an embarrassed look and dashed away, both hands covering his backside.

“Welcome, welcome!” sang the bearded man, a man who seemed to fill the room. Who was this giant that he would treat the king’s secretary with such odd familiarity?

“I’m sorry if Thornton scared you,” the man continued. “His da served my grandfather, you see, who immigrated from Sapia as a child, and was much more, shall we say—traditional—than I and sometimes he gets confused. I’m Thomas Redmond or King Redmond if you prefer.”

He reached for her hand as he spoke. Mayten thought her hand might be crushed, but the king kept his grip gentle. He bowed slightly, smiling right at her, his dark eyes twinkling. There was a space between his two front teeth that Mayten found oddly appealing.

“You’re the king?” Shocked, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. This man’s casual bearing and appearance—he couldn’t be the king. Could he?

She had to admit her expectations were based on stories she’d heard as a child or in books. In those stories, kings sat on big thrones wearing crowns and richly embroidered robes and holding scepters.

This man looked like a neighbor who’d just stopped by to help with the chores. He even smelled of pipe tobacco, just like her father.

Tray was gaping like a fish and his eyes were as round as tree knots. Cather looked like someone had just done something embarrassing, and she didn’t know whether to say something or keep quiet.

Mayten cleared her throat. “You’ll have to excuse us, Your Majesty. We . . . this is Tray Traveler, Cather Healer, and I’m Mayten Singer.”

“The singer! Excellent!”

Mayten heard giggles in the shadows beyond the door arch. The king’s face grew dark. “Who’s listening at my door?”

He crossed to the door in three giant steps. Cather took Mayten’s hand as the king disappeared through the arch with a roar. Horrible shrieks echoed in the hall, sending chills down to Mayten’s spine.

Were they standing in the castle of a crazy man?

Her body tensed but before she could move, the king came back, carrying a little girl—one in a yellow dress, one in green—under each arm with a smaller boy perched on his shoulders. Another boy clung to his leg, making him walk with a strange swinging gate. All four were laughing wildly.

The king stopped in front of them, swinging the two girls to the floor. “These are my lovely daughters, Thomasina Three and Thomasina Four, though don’t ask me which is which.”

The girls—with identical jet-black hair, long noses dusted with freckles, and dirty bare feet—gave little curtsies and beamed up at Mayten.

“You can call me Lemmy,” said the one in the yellow dress.

“You can call me Limey,” said the one in green.

“And this,” said the king, peeling the boy off his leg and setting him on the floor, “is Thomas the Third.”

The little boy giggled. “Father, I’m the second, not the third.” He looked shyly up. “I’m called Blue.”

Blue looked like his father, but with improbable rust-red hair and freckles. A completely different color of red than Hunter’s had been. He looked to be Wollemi’s age.

“Oh, so sorry. Of course, Thomas the Second.” The king plucked the boy—smallest of all—off his neck and placed him on the floor next to his brother. “And what number Thomas are you?”

The little one had his black hair tied back in a braid. He glanced at them through long, thick lashes and held up three fingers while shoving two of his other hand into his mouth.

“Thomas the Third it is,” the king said, placing a hand the size of a dinner plate on the small boy’s head. “He is also known around the castle as Raz.”

He gestured at the children. “They were excited to meet the fabled singer. Children, this is the person we’ve all been waiting for—Mayten Singer!”

Mayten’s face heated. The king must have her confused with her mother. Mayten hadn’t even completed her training. She wasn’t anyone special.

Besides, didn’t the castle have singers of its own?

Before she could voice the question, the children shouted and Mayten was almost knocked off her feet by four sets of arms being thrown around her waist and legs. She looked at her friends, wondering what on earth these children thought she could do.

Chapter Twenty

“All right, all right.” The king peeled the children off Mayten. “You’ll have plenty of time to talk to her at dinner. Let’s let the poor girl unpack at least.”

“Father, I—” A tall boy walked into the room. Dressed in brilliant white trousers, knee-high boots, and a billowing blue shirt left open at the collar, Mayten almost didn’t recognize the rider from the pond.

“Oh, you’re here.” He’d cleaned up, his wild hair slicked back and held in a tie at the nape of his neck. He looked stiff and