Read Isle of Winds (The Changeling Series Book 1) for Free Online

figures everywhere. Paintings adorned the walls, as well as tapestries and clocks of every size and shape.
    Consequently, it was quite some time later that Robin finally arrived at a door on the third floor near the back of the house which opened onto a tight spiral stone staircase.
    This at last seemed promising. At the top of the curling stairwell lay a good sized circular room, with a high-peaked roof and windows set in four places around the wall at the compass points.
    This was definitely the tower. The room was sparsely furnished. A large king-sized bed, covered in many white sheets, an ottoman of dark oak, an old-fashioned writing bureau and a huge looming wardrobe, all in dark wood. His battered old suitcase was laid at the foot of the bed.
    Robin crossed quickly to the wardrobe and opened it. Things had been so odd lately it wouldn’t have surprised him to have seen a lamppost lurking behind fur coats. He threw his own coat inside and opened all the windows, peering out in every direction at the rolling green landscape.
    He was above the roofs here in the tower and the views were excellent. Behind the house, the land sloped off, disappearing into dense forest. There was a faint twinkle amongst the trees, sunlight on water.
    He was hanging out of the window, enjoying the cold air on his face, when he heard a noise behind him.
    He pulled his head back in and looked around.
    There was a scruffy-looking boy leaning in the doorframe. He was taller than Robin and looked a little older, with longish messy brown hair that looked as though it would defy any attempts to comb it. He was smiling in a friendly way and wearing old jeans and a brown jumper. It was possibly the most unremarkable sight Robin had seen all day.
    “Hello,” Robin said.
    “Alright?” the boy replied in greeting, coming into the room. “Robin, is it?”
    “Yeah,” said Robin.
    “I’m Henry,” the boy said amiably. He sat on Robin’s bed, which squeaked alarmingly, running his fingers through his unruly hair. “My dad said you were coming today. He picked you up from the train station in our rubbish old banger, didn’t he?” He was looking around the room with unashamed curiosity. “I’ve never been in here before. Been nearly everywhere else in Erlking. Always figured Irene must keep all her dead husbands up here or something like that.”
    Robin suddenly realised who this was. “You’re Mr Drover’s son, aren’t you?”
    Henry nodded. “Yep. My dad looks after the place. We live down in the village.” He grinned lopsidedly. “We’re hardly ever there really. We’re up here more.” He smiled. “Big place, don’t you know. Takes a lot of looking after. Do you play football?”
    Robin shook his head. “No, not really. I’m pretty rubbish at sports to be honest. Do you go to school in the village?”
    Henry nodded. “Yeah, more’s the pity. Are you going to be coming? It’s rubbish. Tiny too. We got a pool put in last year though, finally. It smells like feet. You’re from Manchester, aren’t you? Is it good living in a big city?”
    Robin shrugged. “It’s alright,” he replied. “Living in the city, I mean. That is … it was alright. Busy, noisy, you know.”
    Henry looked a little uncomfortable. “I feel like a country mouse.” He seemed to remember something and suddenly looked a little awkward. “Oh, sorry. I heard about your Gran from Dad. That must have been awful. You know, what happened to her. Bad business.” He swung his legs, banging his heels against the bedpost.
    Robin didn’t really want to talk about it. Especially with someone he’d only just met. “Yeah,” he said bluntly, effectively cutting off that line of conversation. Silence hung between the two boys for a moment.
    “But you’ll like it here,” Henry brightened up. “Erlking’s great, I wish I lived here. I mean, I’m here all the time, like I said, but it’s not the same is it?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Though I