at the queen. Alex was struck by the dark circles under her eyes, and her haunted expression.
With a start of recognition, Alex realized these two girls must be the queen’s daughters. She remembered the story Carswell had told her about Boudica’s husband dying, and passing the torque of leadership on to his wife. The new queen of the Iceni had been reigning peacefully under a treaty with Rome signed by her husband when, without warning, the Roman tax collector, Catus Decius, attacked her—had her beaten in front of her people, and her young daughters publicly raped. Enraged, Boudica had rallied the Celts against Roman oppression.
Alex had thought the story a gruesome one when Carswell had told it to her, but coming face-to-face with the living people of legend was much different than history being retold in a laboratory. The girls were so young! And so obviously terribly damaged.
“I believe you’re doing the right thing,” Alex surprised herself by saying.
The queen’s smile was sad as she gazed at her daughters. “The goddess is with me and she will truly help us drive the vile Romans from our sacred land.”
Alex knew what would happen to this woman—that she would have victory over the Romans, but only a shortlived one. Her fate was to fall with her people, after which the Romans would subjugate the Celts for many years. But at that moment Alex felt herself caught up in Boudica’s passion, and she suddenly wished the queen could be victorious.
Boudica’s green eyes blazed and her face was framed by her brilliant red hair, which caught the glow of the campfire as if it, too, were made of flame. She looks like a goddess—like nothing in this world or any other could defeat her.
One of Boudica’s men spoke to her and the queen briefly turned her attention from her daughters. It was then Alex saw the firelight reflect on more than her glimmering hair. The golden torque at her neck flashed, pulling Alex’s gaze down—and she felt her eyes widened. There, in the half circle of braided gold that nestled against Boudica’s fair skin, wasn’t a large jewel, as she had at first thought. It was the medallion she had been sent to retrieve.
Chapter 6
Alex was staring at her torque when Boudica turned back to her. Without speaking, the queen looked at her for a long moment, and then her hand went up to touch the neck piece of braided gold.
“Sometimes I still believe I feel the warmth of my husband’s skin through it,” she said softly. “I touch it and remember how like this torque he was—beautiful and strong.”
“What is that medallion in the end of it?” Alex blurted. Then she quickly shut her mouth, worried that she’d said something inappropriate, or worse, something she should have already known.
But Boudica appeared unfazed. Her fingers found the medallion, tracing over the raised pattern. “It is an ancient image of the stars. It was thought to be a powerful talisman in my family, and was passed from mother to daughter until it, and its mate, came to me. When I wed Prasutagus I had both pieces set in his torque as a wedding gift.” The queen paused, stroking the object as she stared into the fire.
Then Alex’s mind caught up with what Boudica had said, and her gaze snapped back to the torque. Her stomach tightened as she saw that, sure enough, the medallion was only half of what Carswell had shown her—as if the original had been broken in two. She looked at the other end of the torque and felt the breath rush out of her as she saw that something was missing.
“It’s gone!” Alex gasped.
“Aye, it is indeed, but I shall retrieve it if I have to cut it from that monster’s body.”
“A monster took it?” Alex was utterly confused.
“Aye, a monster in the form of a Roman tax collector.” Boudica’s blazing green eyes seemed to pierce Alex. “You know that I was beaten and my daughters raped.”
It wasn’t a question, but Alex nodded and said solemnly, “I do.”
“The monster who ordered it was Catus Decius, a Roman tax collector. When his soldiers were beating me, the medallion came loose. Catus took it, saying it was payment owed to Rome by the Queen of the Iceni. He said my daughters’ virginity was payment owed to Rome, too.” Boudica curled her lip in a vicious sneer. “I will find him in Londinium and take back my medallion, as well as the payment Rome owes me for defiling my children.” The queen put her hand on Alex’s shoulder, gripping tightly. “And now with a magically given priestess of Andraste by my side, I know I cannot fail to exact vengeance for the wrongs committed against me and my people. You will stay with me, will you not? You must march to Londinium with us.”
“I’m here to support you. I’ll come to Londinium,” she assured her quickly. “I want to be there when you get your medallion back.”
How different it was to see the living, breathing Boudica than it had been to be briefed about her, Alex thought. Until moments ago, this mission had been one that had been imposed upon her—one that, other than solving the mystery of the man with the swirling woad, she didn’t particularly care about. But meeting the queen and remaining unconnected to her was impossible, especially as Alex knew all too well the tragic end that awaited her.
“Ah, I am glad to hear it.” Boudica leaned a little closer and lowered her voice. “Welcome, Blonwen. The goddess must have known that, though I am surrounded by warriors, I have truly felt alone since Prasutagus’s death. It will be good to have a priestess as my confidente.”
Alex couldn’t speak. At that moment Boudica wasn’t an ancient queen, long dead and, except for readers of moldy history books, mostly forgotten. She was a woman, younger than Alex at this point in time, and one who needed a friend. As she tried to think of something priestesslike and wise to say, a flicker of movement beside Boudica caught her attention. A man suddenly appeared, not more than two feet away from the queen. He was dressed in a heavily embroidered tunic, and his hair was as brightly blond as Boudica’s was red. He was a giant of a man, with thick muscles and an expression so fierce and frightening that Alex automatically recoiled as he shouted at her, “You must help Boudica!”
“What is it, Blonwen? What troubles you? Is it an ill omen?” the queen said, turning to look around her at what might have drawn Alex’s attention.
The warriors nearby, standing just far enough away to allow Boudica and the newly arrived priestess privacy to talk, were instantly alerted by their queen’s words.
Of course, Alex hadn’t needed to see Boudica’s nonreaction to the appearance of the man to know he was a ghost—she could tell from her first glimpse of his semitransparent body. Okay, Alex told herself sternly, I’m a priestess. It’s normal that I can talk to ghosts. She cleared her throat and said, “No, it’s not a bad omen. It’s just a spirit telling me to help you, which is actually a good omen because that is what I intend to do.”
There was a hush in the campsite as every eye turned to her.
“I know you are more than what you seem and that you come here for reasons other than to be the queen’s confidente, but you must help her,” the ghost exclaimed. Though he was speaking to Alex, his eyes never left Boudica.
The queen didn’t look nervous or scared, as modern people usually did when they found out Alex was seeing a ghost. Boudica looked calm and more than a little curious. “What else does the spirit say?” she asked.
“Tell her the boy
