About the novel:
Fated to lead a rebellion against Rome.
Destined to become a legend.
From New York Times bestseller Melanie Karsak, author of the Celtic Blood series, comes a gripping historical fantasy series of ancient Britain, Celtic gods, a fated romance, and the warrior queen who defied Rome.
Britain, A.D. 42—Boudica, second daughter of a Celtic king, has little concern for tribal tensions and political intrigues. Called by the gods and the stirrings of her own wild heart, she listens instead to whispers of the oaks. But Boudica would be wiser to heed the warning cries of eagles.
Rumors abound that the Romans are amassing forces for another invasion. In an effort to consolidate power, Boudica’s father turns to Prasutagus, the formidable ruler of the Greater Iceni. To win Prasutagus’s aid, Boudica’s father must strike a bargain—a deal with implications beyond Boudica’s imagining.
Chapter 1 Sneak Peek:
Chapter 1
Blobs of sunlight shimmered down through the canopy of green leaves overhead. I closed my eyes, swaying in my saddle as Druda made his way down the familiar path. Overhead, a dove cooed. The thick blanket of leaves offered much-needed shade from the summer sun. Exhaling deeply, I undid the lace at the top of my jerkin to breathe a little easier. At the end of the road, the forest opened to the village.
Almost there.
The loamy scent of the forest floor, covered by a thick bank of fern and heated by the morning sun, perfumed the air. The fern fronds twitched, catching Druda’s attention. I pulled the horse to a stop.
“A hare,” I whispered, reaching for the bow on my back. I grabbed it slowly then pulled an arrow from the quiver. I knocked it then waited.
The ferns shuddered again.
I took aim.
But then…nothing.
I waited.
A soft wind blew, carrying with it the sweet scent of the forest and the sound of gently tinkling bells. Then I heard the barely-audible echo of laughter. I narrowed my gaze. A breeze made the ferns dance. Blobs of golden light rose from the curling fingers of the ferns, drifting upward into the canopy. A silvery ringing sound and almost imperceptible giggling drifted on the wind.
I relaxed the tension on my bow.
“Fey things in a fern glade,” I told Druda, who snorted in reply, pawing the earth.
I looked down to see mushrooms growing all along the lane.
“Bou-di-ca,” a voice called in sing-song on the wind, the sound just a whisper.
“We’ll be snatched by the Seelie at this rate. Come on,” I told the horse. Slipping my bow back onto my back, I snatched up the reins once more then goaded the horse with a tap from my ankles. Taking off in a trot, Druda headed away from the glade and down the oak-lined path into the village of Frog’s Hollow.