Posts Tagged ‘homeschooled’

Hadrian could lose his title, his position, and if he’s not careful, his life

Thursday, October 10th, 2019

 

 

Rachel Rossano lives with her husband and three children in the northeastern part of the United States. Homeschooled through high school, she began writing her early teens. She didn’t become serious about pursuing a career as an author until after she had graduated from college and happily married. Then the children came.
 

 

Now she spends her days being a wife, mother, teacher, and household manager. Her evenings and free moments are devoted to her other loves, writing and book cover design. Drawing on a lifelong fascination with reading and history, she spends hours creating historical feeling fantasy worlds and populating them with characters who live and breathe on the page. 

 

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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 grow bolder, Hadrian must rely upon his young defender
and their shared faith in the Almighty to keep him from faltering.
 
 
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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
group 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 the 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 death when a believer steps from his own body
into the presence of the Almighty.

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Help unravel the mysteries that lie within the realm of Andar

Friday, March 2nd, 2018
The
Witches of Andar
by
Ashlie Harris
Genre:
Fantasy
 
A
trio of An-Kishar witches has unwittingly become involved in a royal
coup. After saving the murdered king’s son, the foursome takes
shelter with a traveling theater troupe, hoping to stay in hiding
until the Prince is able to reclaim his throne.

 

 

Fight
alongside Malinda, Alice, and Justine to rid the kingdom of the dark
magic that threatens to run rampant. Venture into the Hanging Ferns
Forest, travel with the Thespian Connection, and help unravel the
mysteries that lie within the realm of Andar!

 

 

“Alice!…
You can’t slap a Prince!” -Justine; The Witches of Andar- Book 1

 

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Ashlie
Harris is 30 years old and a Stay-at-Home mother of four homeschooled
children. She and her husband live in the heart of the Midwest, USA,
in a place Ashlie likes to call, “The Land of Corn and Beans”.
She has lived there all her life but may plan to move North in the
near future. A unique childhood and a passion for the written word
have served as motivation and inspiration throughout the years.
Always the writer, Ashlie can often be found asking inappropriate
questions, staring at seemingly nothing for hours on end, and
generally being completely socially awkward. Her biggest wish is for
people to look past their differences and start treating each other
as the one, single race we are- HUMAN.

 

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