Before he speaks, tell him you have a message for him from me, and describe what I am wearing. Be certain to mention the spiral circle on my palm. The ghost of the middle-aged woman spoke from her place beside Alex. Quickly! she snapped when Alex only stared at her. Do as I say before he exposes you!
“I have a message for you from a spirit with a spiral circle on her palm. She is wearing a blue tunic embroidered with roses,” Alex said hastily, looking from the ghost to the man Boudica had called Caradoc.
She saw his eyes widen, and he said, “What is the message?”
Alex forced herself not to gasp at the sound of his voice. She’d heard it before! This was the man from her dreams. He had been the one who’d begged her to return to him.
Tell my strong, brave son, these exact words—that his mother would ask him to, once more, wait—think—and consider, or he may once more find himself naked and shoeless and dodging from briar patch to briar patch all the way home.
Alex stared at the woman.
Tell him! she commanded.
Alex turned to Caradoc, who was standing beside Boudica. The queen was watching her with an expression of open curiosity.
“Well…” Alex spoke slowly, making sure she got all the words right. “Your mother asks me to tell you to, once more, wait—think—consider, or you may once more find yourself naked and shoeless and dodging from briar patch to briar path all the way home.”
Beside him, Boudica threw back her head and laughed. “I had forgotten all about that! How old were you then, Caradoc? Eleven or twelve?”
He frowned and told his queen, who was still chuckling, “I was twelve.” Alex saw his jaw clench and then unclench as he continued to stare at her. Still, he did not speak to her, but said to Boudica, “You did not say she was a Soul Speaker.”
Eyes sparkling with amusement, Boudica raised her brows. “Why would I have to tell you that? Her name should have been enough for you to recognize her. Have your wounds affected your mind, Caradoc?”
Alex had been so shocked to see this man whose tattoos and voice were from her dreams that it wasn’t until Boudica mentioned it that she noticed Caradoc was injured. There was a gash at his hairline and he had a linen bandage wrapped around his right arm.
“My injuries have done nothing to my memory. The name Blonwen is utterly unfamiliar to me,” Caradoc said.
Alex braced herself for him to decry her, and as she did she felt an unexpected wave of disappointment at the thought that she was probably going to have to press the ESC and return to her own time. And that disappointment wasn’t just because she hadn’t completed her mission. While she waited for Caradoc to expose her as a fraud and call down Boudica’s retribution on her for deceiving a queen, she realized that she wasn’t ready to return to her old life, and that had nothing to do with Project Anasazi.
“My queen, I do not know her as Blonwen,” Caradoc said as his gaze met and locked with Alex’s. “I only recognize her as a Soul Speaker.”
He wasn’t going to expose her? Hesitantly, Alex let out a long, slow breath of relief.
“Ah, well, Soul Speaker, Priestess, Blonwen. Is it not all one in the same? I am simply pleased you both escaped Mona.” The queen smiled warmly at her kinsman and Alex, then all traces of amusement faded from her and she continued in a much more sober voice. “Tell me, Caradoc and Blonwen, is the isle utterly destroyed?” Boudica said.
Caradoc gave Alex a long, considering look and then said, “I will defer to the Soul Speaker to answer our queen.”
Do not lie! the ghost of Caradoc’s mother said quickly. Negative energy is released with untruths.
A shiver passed through Alex’s body at the spirit’s words. She was right; deep in her gut Alex knew that words and oaths, lies and truths, had a different power here than they did in the modern world.
“I can’t…” She hesitated, choosing the truth carefully. “I’m sorry, Boudica, but I have to ask you not force me to talk about Mona.”
The queen’s green eyes were filled with compassion. “Aye, I understand how difficult it is to speak of great loss to someone who wasn’t there and didn’t experience it with you. It is too much like reliving the tragedy. Later, perhaps, when the memory isn’t so fresh, we will talk.” She looked from Alex to Caradoc. “I would imagine the two of you have many things to say to one another. Blonwen, I give you leave to ride beside Caradoc as we march to Londinium. I would ask, though, that before we begin our trek today you offer Andraste libations and evoke her blessing under the rowan.” Boudica inclined her head in the direction of a craggy tree that stood apart from the others. It looked unbelievably old. Its bark was gnarled and its many limbs twisted, but it was peppered with delicate white flowers that gave it the appearance of an old woman sprinkled with a jeweled dusting of magic.
Alex had been staring at the tree and smiling at the image of it as an old woman, when she realized what Boudica had just asked of her.
She was supposed to perform some kind of blessing—there, in front of everyone.
“Blonwen, is anything amiss?” Boudica asked her.
Alex felt everyone’s eyes drawn to her yet again. She swallowed hard and lifted her chin. She was supposed to be a priestess! There was no way she could balk at asking for her goddess’s blessing—that was part of the priestess job description.
“No, nothing’s wrong,” she stated. “Well, except I don’t have any libations.” Libations…libations…what the hell are libations?
“Oh, of course. Bring the honey and wine,” Boudica commanded.
In what seemed like less than a couple frantic beats of her heart, a woman appeared with two jugs and handed them, with a shy smile and curtsy, to Alex.
“We will follow you, Priestess,” Boudica said, nodding for Alex to precede her to the old tree.
Numbly, Alex walked toward it. Of all the curious gazes that rested on her, she swore she could feel Caradoc’s eyes boring into her back as he waited for her to mess up.
And of course she’d mess up! She didn’t have any idea how to give libations to a tree and evoke the blessing of a goddess! She was going to make an utter fool of herself and, worse, expose herself as a fraud. Alex was considering whether she could faint with any believability when the ghost’s voice broke through her panicked thoughts.
You can do this. Still your mind and follow your heart.
The ghost of Caradoc’s mother was leaning comfortably against the thick bark of the old tree. She smiled at Alex.
Still your mind, she repeated. Trust yourself, child.
Having very little choice, Alex listened to the ghost. She walked up to the tree and set the two jugs at her feet. Then she closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, letting it go slowly while she concentrated on relaxing the babble in her mind and the hammering of her heart.
She opened her eyes and stared at the tree. Rowan—a tree sacred to the ancient Celts. Known for protection. To give libations—sprinkling honey and wine or sometimes milk on the ground in sacred places as offerings to the gods. The thoughts seemed to pop into her mind. Seeing the tree with new eyes, Alex gazed up at the thick branches and the canopy of lush leaves decorated with brilliant white flowers. The morning light caught the blossoms and, for just an instant, Alex was sure they glistened.
On impulse, she reached out and rested