New
roles. New rules. No margin for error.
Zezilia
Ilar joins the sept son’s entourage as a defender. Her growing
Talent ability makes her a target for the Elitists, and her gender
makes people question her competence. She must protect the sept son.
Any mistake could be fatal.
Hadrian
Aleron always knew his beliefs would cause trouble, but he didn’t
realize how much. Rebels are rising. He could lose his title, his
position, and if he’s not careful, his life. As the assassination
attempts to grow bolder, Hadrian must rely upon his young defender and
their shared faith in the Almighty to keep him from faltering.
Snippet:
Zezilia
Accusing
eyes and a wave of hatred and confusion followed us out the doors of
the dining hall. I wanted to put up a stronger shield around Hadrian,
but no amount of energy was going to block out the spite behind us.
It helped that Hadrian was leading us down the corridor at a pace
that kept me trotting to keep up. The farther we were away from that
crowd, the better.
“Where
may I have an hour in private?”
Hadrian sent. I was so distracted by the emotion behind us that for a
moment I thought he was asking me. Then my brother replied.
Taking
a sharp left, Hadrian flung open the next set of double doors and
swept into one of the side rooms off the main corridor. With quick
orders from Renato, two defenders took up stations on either side of
the doors while the remaining four followed us into the room and
closed the doors behind us.
“Guard
the windows from the outside,” Renato ordered. I heard them obey,
but I didn’t see them because my attention was taken up with
watching Hadrian.
He
had crossed directly to the far wall of the room and sagged against
it. His wide shoulders sloped and his head fell forward as though it
was too heavy for him to lift. This alone would have concerned me,
but the storm of pain, fear, anger, and frustration that warred
within him was what tore a cry of help to the Almighty from my heart.
Almighty,
help him. Give me wisdom. What can I do to ease his pain? Please,
God, give him peace.
“Hadrian?”
Renato’s panicked query brought Hadrian eyes to him. “You didn’t
eat any of the fruit, right? Do you need a healer?” My brother
stepped forward into the sept son’s personal space. “What is
wrong?”
Hadrian
raised a hand wearily and pushed him back. “I am fine, Renato. Now
go fetch Korneli. I have time for him now.”
“Answer
my question first.”
Hadrian
merely shook his head. “No, I didn’t eat. I am not going to die,
Renato. At least, not at this moment. Now go.”
Nodding,
Renato turned to me. “Come. Korneli is…”
“No,
she stays here.” Both of us turned to regard the sept son. Hadrian
had not moved.
“But,
Master, you said I was to never leave you and her alone.”
“Send
in Plantonio when you leave. He will act as witness. Now go get
Korneli before I throw you out.”
“Yes,
Master.” Executing a sharp salute, he walked toward the door,
sending me a warning look as he passed.
Hadrian
did not move as Plantonio appeared, saluted, and then took station
near the door. I watched Hadrian carefully, monitoring the emotions
that kept flaring from him. Without the life of his dark eyes, his
face appeared years older than I knew him to be. Feathered lines
radiated from his closed eyes and deep crevices bracketed his mouth.
The dark circles under his eyes spoke of hours of lost sleep. A flare
of anger distracted me from his face for a moment as I stepped back
from the intensity. His eyes flew open and immediately focused on my
face.
“How
did you know?” he asked. Slowly lifting his head and straightening,
he crossed to the nearest chair and sank into it.
“Pardon?”
“How
did you know it was poisoned?”
“He
intended to kill you.”
“But
how did you know? Did you read his thoughts?”
Fear
flooded through me. The servant hadn’t been a Talent. To read his
thoughts would be worthy of grave punishment. “No, he was
projecting the emotions of a man afraid of getting caught. When I saw
him exchange the dishes, I knew why.”
He
closed his eyes and laid his head against the chair back. Pain washed
over me as his forehead tightened.
“Headache?”
I asked before thinking.
He
smiled bitterly. “The cost of stress and tension.”
“Where
does it hurt?”
He
sighed wearily. “Are you sure you want details?” He opened one
dark brown eye and squinted at me.
“Is
there anything I can do to help?”
Hadrian
closed his eye. “Yes. Come and sit in the chair across from me, so
I don’t have to keep looking up at you.”
I
quickly moved to obey, carefully stepping over his sprawled legs to
reach the chair. “Does this often happen, Sept Son?”
“What?”
He lifted a hand to massage his forehead. “The headaches?”
“No,
the attempts on your life.”
“More
often than I would like. I haven’t had this close a brush in a
while.”
“Who
wants you dead?”
He
looked at me from beneath the shade of his hand. “The better
question is who doesn’t want me dead, Zez. The mesitas, half the
kings, and most of the worshipers of the goddess wish me out of the
picture permanently.”
I
didn’t know what to say. I knew without a doubt that my father was
one of the groups that wished Hadrian ill. What words does one offer a
man who has recently faced death?
“I
don’t hold it against you, Zez. Your father’s position has not
affected my trust in you or Renato. In fact, Renato’s closeness to
me has limited some of the attacks because Ilar doesn’t want to
harm his son.” He paused for a few moments. “I am sorry to bring
you into the midst of this. This isn’t the place for you.”
I
shook my head. He was wrong. “This is where I am supposed to be. If
I hadn’t been here, the Almighty wouldn’t have used me to prevent
your death.” I shuddered slightly at the thought. “I am the most
qualified in many ways, and you are going to teach me so that I can
grow even more skilled. He has a purpose for me here.”
He
laughed softly. “I can’t argue with that. His purpose is the only
thing that keeps me here. Though, I fear at times, Zez, that I am not
going to survive this. Each time I face my mortality, I wonder what
the Almighty has in store. All it would take is one moment when He
decides not to show me grace and stop the assassin’s hand. One time
and all I have worked for would be gone.”
“He
has promised that what He has purposed will come to pass.” I quoted
one of my favorite passages of Revelation to him. “I shall pray
that He will continue to spare you.”
Lowering
his hand, Hadrian looked at me and smiled slowly. “Thank you, Zez.
Your prayers will guard my soul while your Talent will guard my body.
I will do the same for you and, Almighty willing, we shall survive.
If not, at least we shall be at peace.” Then he quoted another
favorite passage of mine. It spoke of the instantaneous
transformation at the death when a believer steps from his own body into
the presence of the Almighty.
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