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

mother’s book, looking for clues about communicating with another person using the trees.

After what seemed like hours of looking and finding nothing helpful, she glanced at the other books. A cover showing a dragon fighting a knight caught her eye.

The books at home were worn to threads, having been read over and over by all the children. Her parents bought books from traders whenever they could, but Mayten always wanted more.

Was it possible to borrow some books to take home? Would it be improper to ask a king if she could borrow a few books?

And when would she be able to get the books back to him?

She tucked her feet under her and fell into a beautifully illustrated story about knights, princesses, and dragons. The knights had the most fun, she decided as she nibbled on a piece of dark brown bread.

A bell rang during a rather intense fight scene, shocking her back to reality.

Mayten jumped to her feet, staring in dismay at her clothes. She tugged off her boots, pants, and shirt, yanked the dress over her head, and dug her sandals from her pack. She hopped toward the door, pulling her sandals on and trying to button the back of her dress at the same time. She almost collided with Tray in the hall, his eyes still bleary from sleep. His hair stuck up at odd angles.

“Button me, quick!”

“Huh?”

She turned her back, pointing to the buttons, trying not to fuss as he fumbled to fasten them.

“Funny, I thought you’d go for the pretty one, Tray.”

The voice behind her was familiar and unwelcome.

Adven.

Anger boiled in Mayten’s belly. Her face flushed with heat, and she had to stop herself from snapping back. She’d promised Hunter she would try to see the good in their leader—

“Uncle!” Tray’s face lit up. “How’d you get here so fast?”

He left her standing in the hall with a half-buttoned dress, following Adven to the stairs. Tray not only looked fully awake, he appeared to be greatly relieved.

“I can move fast when I’m alone.”

“Excuse me, Miss.”

Mayten started, jerking back from an older man who had appeared next to her. This man was as round as the secretary, though much shorter. He had a receding hairline that ended in a nest of gray curls and a pleasant, grandfatherly way about him.

“I am Count Monroe,” he said with a slight bow and a smile that put Mayten at ease. “I mean no disrespect, but may I offer my assistance with those buttons?”

Was it proper to let a strange man button her dress?

More proper than going to dinner half-dressed, she decided.

She turned her back to him, moving her braids out of the way. “Thank you, sir.”

The dress was buttoned in no time. She turned to thank him again, pleasantly surprised by the deliciously fresh smell—a smell that brought oranges to mind—that seemed to surround him.

The count reminded her of someone—was it her da’s father? He’d died of the wasting sickness when she was only five, but she’d had a great fondness for the old man. She’d sat on his lap while he read to her, feeling warm and safe. He’d loved to read and had passed that love on to her.

“Thank you so much. I’m afraid I was in a bit of a pickle. I’m Mayten.”

“My pleasure. It’s been a while since I’ve had the opportunity to help any maidens in distress.” The count hooked his walking stick over his right arm and offered her his left. She slipped her hand beneath his crooked elbow and let him lead her to the stairs.

Mayten wondered if he’d been a friend of her grandfather’s. “Have you ever visited the forest clan?”

“Once, briefly. I stopped by on a trading barge. But I’m sure it was before you were born, child,” he said with a chuckle. “It was a magnificent place to watch furniture in the making, boats too. They used the most beautiful wood.”

She smiled at the compliment. “They still do. My mother manages the forest there. She’s a tree singer and has a great relationship with the forest.”

He chuckled again. “Ah, you must be the fabled singer who has come to rescue us!”

His eyes sparkled and she wondered if he found the idea as silly and incomprehensible as she.

Mayten stopped and lowered her voice. “People keep saying that, sir, but I don’t know why. Don’t they have any singers here?”

“Oh no, my dear. There hasn’t been a singer in the castle for ages.”

“But why not?”

He seemed to draw into himself, as if he wanted to tell her something but didn’t know if he should. He turned back to the stairs and led her downward. “I’m sure you’ll hear about it soon enough, but . . . I’ve always had a fondness for singers. Perhaps someday I’ll have the privilege to visit your clan again. I would love to meet your mother.”

She let him guide her down the stairs, her mind on his last words.

But—he’d said the word as though some folks did not have a fondness for singers, a fact she’d recently learned firsthand. Yet, everyone she’d met at the castle seemed to think she was something special.

Mayten shrugged. There’d likely be time to work it out later. She was about to dine in a castle. She had made it this far. She could worry about the rest later.

Adven and Tray had already disappeared down the stairs, and she was thankful she didn’t have to enter the dining room alone. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the count led her into the room with the exceptionally long table. Candles in wall sconces lit the room in a gentle glow. Tapestries hung on every wall. A beautiful meadow scene with a flowing river and a family of deer in the foreground caught her attention right off.

Tray and Adven were still standing. The king sat at the far end, an empty chair to his right. The queen’s chair, she guessed.

The children were seated around the table in what seemed a random order with