Seventh Born by Rachel Rossano Official Book Tour with Giveaway :)
In a world where seventh born sons are valued for their strength and power, she is born a daughter.
Zezilia Ilar is the disappointment. Born after six brothers, she was supposed to be the son to restore her family’s prestige. She intends to remedy her shortcomings by being a dutiful daughter, marrying well and producing children, preferably a set of seven sons. But when someone offers her an alternative, she begins to dream of more.
In a society that worships a goddess, he follows the Almighty.
Hadrian Aleron, as a seventh son of a seventh son, stands to take up the second highest position in government, Sept Son. His main qualification for office is his birth. Despite preparing for this role from childhood, he does not desire what is to come. As a follower of the Almighty, he knows he will be the target of many, and his faith might eventually lead to death.
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.
I
was the disappointment. On the day of my birth, my mother cried for I
was not a son. The son they hoped, prayed, and sacrificed for, the
seventh son who would become the Sept Son. He would have taken the
highest position under the High King and restored the glory of the
Ilars. I knew the story as if I had been there from before my
conception. Father retold he tale of my family it every year on the
anniversary of my birth.
I
resolved this year would be different. The shame, the disgrace, and
the pain in my father’s eyes might fade if I proved useful. A woman
of marriageable age could advance the family by way of a profitable
match. Marriage, the only way for a woman could please the goddess. I
cringed.
Glancing
around the tablium, the living area of the main house, I found myself
alone, which was just as well. Mother lectured a servant in the next
room. My father and most of my brothers had long since scattered
about the house and grounds pursuing their own interests. I was
supposed to be practicing my music, but I couldn’t keep my mind on
my task.
Outside
the open glass doors of our main house, the depths of gardens
beckoned. I harkened their call. Behind me, two of my six brothers
argued loudly over who would take first in the foot race tomorrow. As
their voices rose the call of the quiet appealed to me all the more.
Finally I could resist no longer. Slipping through the doors, I
reached the first turn of the path before they noticed my departure.
Heavy
blossoms of deep red and orange bobbed in the breeze as if ushering
me into the cool depths of the gardens. The broad, deep green leaves
of the organza ferns reached out to brush my face and hair, tracing
dew trails over my clothing. I slipped deeper into the wild heart of
the garden, down where the tamed groves gave way to the chaos of
nature. The border was unmanned, but clearly marked by a vast bramble
of brandleberry bushes. Unfortunately, their crimson fruit reminded
me of my neglected duties.
It was
a year of six, an extra day of feasting and dancing to celebrate the
goddess and her bounty to us. Only here, deep in the gardens, I could
find peace from the bustle of preparation for the week ahead. Why did
it have to be a long year this year, the annum of my presentation? I
hated that I was born on the first day of the high week. It brought
extra attention when all I wished to do was hide.
“Child,
curb your thoughts.”
I
jumped at the sudden voice, rough and raspy. Turning around in my
small haven, I beheld the strangest sight. A short man, only slightly
above my height, stood in the midst of the brandleberries. Red hair
stood out in a riot of frizz about his balding brown head. I say
brown for his face was deeper than the sun-bronzed skin of my father
and brothers.
“I
sensed your thoughts jumbling about. They made my insides twist about
half a mile away. Whatever could be wrong to cause such distress?”
he asked, his strange green eyes assessing my face.
“You
heard my thoughts?” I asked. I was stunned. Being a female, I was
not to have the ability to project and the situation he was
describing was a strong projection. None of my brothers could send
that distance.
“Not
coherently, or I wouldn’t be asking you these questions, girl. You
obviously have no training. Without training, all I could pick up
were your emotions and snatches of ideas. Now tell me, what is
getting you into such a state?”
I
regarded him in silence. He was a perfect stranger. I was not about
to dump all my trials and woes upon him, no matter how he demanded
it.
“But
we are not introduced,” I protested finally. “I am not allowed to
speak to men to whom I have not been introduced.”
The
man scoffed. “You are talking to me already, girl. It is a little
late to start pulling proper behavior on me now.” Despite his
scorn, he waded through the bushes as though they had no briars.
Gaining the cleared ground, he brushed off his rough linen robes and
executed a precise bow. “Errol Silas at you service, Donellea. May
I inquire as to your name?”
“Zezilia
Ilar.” I curtseyed as I ought.
His
eyes widened suddenly. “Ah, that explains it.”
My
stomach sank. Now he would go on about how sad it was that I wasn’t
born a male. All of father’s friends did, as if I didn’t wish
reality to be different every day. Sure, my family didn’t mention
it daily, but I would see it frequently enough in their expressions.
“You
are Ostin Ilar’s daughter.” His strange gaze seemed to bore into
my eyes. “Has anyone else heard your thoughts before, Donellea
Ilar? Your brothers or parents?”
I
frowned. “No, Master Silas, I am a female and incapable of
projecting.”
At
this he laughed. “You incapable? Ha. I have never encountered so
much raw projecting talent in anyone. No, just a minute,” he said,
raising a rough hand. “I have encountered one.” He looked at me
as if considering whether or not I needed a haircut or a certain
piece of clothing would suit me. “Yes, it is possible. Given time.”
Then suddenly he grinned, giving me a fantastic view of strong, white
teeth. “You are going to be my new pupil.”
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