He knew it was her now, that night when the desert air felt alive. Weymouth had just warned him in his hushed, hurried call that she wasn’t with their party in the jungle, and was probably headed his way.
He wished he’d known earlier to watch out for anything white.
“f*****g falcon!” he shouted to the empty room. “f*****g SPIDER!”
She’d heard everything. She knew everything. Now there was only one thing left for him to do.
“Marcell!” Caesar roared. In moments he appeared, bowing, in the doorway of Caesar’s chambers.
“Sire?”
“We’re going into Marrakech. Tonight. You, me, that mercenary friend of yours who’s such a good tracker. And the big bald one, the deserter from the Nepal colony who recently joined us.”
“The Firestarter?”
“That’s him.”
Marcell’s brows lifted.
Caesar said, “
