I crossed to the window and looked out at the empty nest in the branches outside window. I could no longer call it my window. It would now belong to one of the other girls. She would be the one to lie on the bed and watch the baby birds grow from hatchlings to adults. I hoped Eloine gained this room. She would appreciate the beauty of the cycle of life.
Looking down at my traveling clothes, fear crept in again. What if Master Aleron asked me to do something I didn’t know? What if it was a disastrous mistake? What if...?
My hands shook as I gripped the sill. Almighty Father, God of all, Keeper of the Great Plan, please help me. My thoughts cried out to the unseen One. I am so inadequate for this task. Foolish and weak, I can only stumble where I should stride with confidence. Why have you chosen me?
As I closed my eyes and waited for my answer, a passage from the Revelation slipped through my thoughts. “His grace is made perfect in weakness. By His strength alone will they rise victorious. Then who can say it is of their strength they accomplish these things. It is of the Lord. To Him alone give praise.”
I am yours Lord. Do with me what you will.
“Zezilia.” Adreet’s voice called from the stairwell. “Renato is here for you.”
“I am coming.”
Closing the window, I smoothed the spot on the quilt where Candra had sat, gathered my small traveling sack, and took one last look around the room. Then straightening my shoulders, I walked out the door to face my uncertain future.
Zezilia and Hadrian will return
in the next installment of
The Talented
,
The Defender
About the Author
Rachel Rossano, author of historical-like romantic adventure stories and science fiction dramas, has carried the workings for Zez and Hadrian’s fantastical story with her for over a decade. Burdened with the weight of the message, she frequently set the writing aside only to pick it up again because she was driven to finish. As with all of her work, she hopes and prays that this story will encourage, inspire, and draw the reader’s attention back to the one true source of peace, the Lord Jesus Christ and the glorious purpose He is working in each believer’s life.
Mrs. Rossano lives in the Northeastern portion of the United States with her loving and supportive husband and their three growing children. She loves to spend time reading, teaching, and creating midst the chaos of family life. She has been known to claim that writing keeps her sane because her characters are less argumentative than her children, most of the time.
Also by Rachel Rossano
Novels of Rhynan
Duty
Honor
The Making of a Man
(a short story anthology)
The Theodoric Saga
The Crown of Anavrea
The King of Anavrea
The Reward of Anavrea
Stand Alone Works
Wren
(a Romany Epistle Novel)
The Mercenary’s Marriage
Word and Deed
(a short story)
Exchange
(a science fiction short)
Sneak Peeks
Duty
First Novel of Rhynan
Chapter One
"THE RED ONE IS MINE," he said.
I didn’t raise my head although instinct urged me to. Father had called me Red. He said I was born screaming, skin deep red like the beets in the garden and hair fiery like the setting sun. The man who spoke was not my father.
I glanced at him from beneath my cloak’s hood. Arrogant in his size and superior mass, his eyes picked me out of the writhing mass of captives. Early morning sunlight glinted off plain armor and an unadorned helm, yet the unwashed barbarians treated him with the respect due a commander.
The crowd of women around me parted for the soldier fulfilling his order. Mothers moved back with babes in their arms, toddlers clinging to their skirts. Their fingers clutched older children’s hands or shoulders. A living mass, their voices silenced by the army surrounding them. Their faces spoke eloquently of their fear.
The soldier, smelling of sweat and sour wine, grabbed my left arm and dragged me out from among them. I didn’t want to bring harm to the women around me. The soldier would injure many before subduing me. I allowed him to pull me toward the commander with only minimal resistance.
Once free of the captives, however, I yanked from the man’s grip in an attempt to run. Three pairs of rough hands caught hold of my arms before I managed more than a few steps. The stench of their unclean bodies turned my stomach. I gagged as I fought them. They dragged me through the dust and dumped me at his feet.
I struggled up only to be brought down again. Pressure behind my knees forced me to kneel.
I lifted my face to glare at the commander.
“Remove her hood.”
Someone pulled my cloak half off my shoulders in his enthusiasm. Red curls fell free in a wild mass about my shoulders.
Silently I cursed the color. If only I had been blessed with plain brown or even blond tresses, I could have hidden in plain sight.
“My Lady Brielle Solarius, I presume.”
He had the audacity to meet my glare. His eyes were only glimmers beneath the beaten metal and leather of his helmet. He made no bow or any show of the honor due me. I was a noblewoman. I didn’t claim the right of deference often, but still the fact remained.
“Might I know your name, barbarian?”
His reaction did not change his posture. I could not read his emotions.
“Lord Irvaine is no barbarian.”
The soldier at my left, a young man barely my senior, shoved me between the shoulders. I resisted, pressing back against his hand despite the burning in my thighs from the effort. Finally I shrugged him off.
Anger filled me, blinding my reason. Caution, a weak flicker of light in the night of anger, wavered and almost went out. The darkness like a living thing, growing ever stronger, pressed me more closely every second I lingered, waiting to hear my fate. I could not lose control. My people were counting on me. Their families were under my watch.
“By what right
