CHAPTER 32
Immari Training Camp Camelot
Cape Town, South Africa
Dorian stood at the tall window. The Immari troops that spread out below were breaking down their camps and making their way to the harbor and the ships waiting there for them.
A woman was directing a group of soldiers. She had… poise, Dorian thought, and something else; he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. “Kosta,” he said to his new assistant, who was working at the desk behind him.
The short, fat man scurried over to join Dorian at the window. “Sir?”
“Who’s that woman?”
Kosta peered down. “Which…”
Dorian pointed. “There, with the blond hair, and… striking features.”
Kosta hesitated. “I… I don’t know, sir. Is she underperforming? I can have her reassigned—”
“No, no. Just, find out who she is.”
“Yes, sir.” Kosta lingered. “The rest of the ships are almost here. We’re still trying to round up more cold weather gear—”
“We won’t need it.”
“Sir?”
“We’re not going to Antarctica. We’re sailing north. Our fight is in Europe.”
PART II:
TRUTH, LIES & TRAITORS