The imperial jet began its descent through a thick bank of winter clouds shortly after noon.
Dean had spent most of the flight stretched across the wide leather seat beside Arion, one boot abandoned beneath the table and a tablet balanced against his thigh. The itinerary remained open on the screen, though he had stopped reading it somewhere between the second island and the formal dinner scheduled for their first evening in Palatine.
Across the cabin, Boreas occupied almost the entire aisle.
The dog had tolerated takeoff with the grave offense of an animal personally betrayed by physics and then settled between Lucas and Trevor and refused to move for the following two hours.
Lucas had eventually rested his feet against Boreas's side.
Boreas accepted that.
Trevor had stepped over both of them several times without comment.
