Hunter waited until they were back inside their residence before locking the sitting-room doors.
The accommodation provided by the island administration was smaller than their usual royal quarters, built of pale local stone with dark timber beams crossing the ceiling. Wind rattled faintly against the tall windows, carrying the distant sound of the sea up from the harbor below. A fire had been lit before their return, but none of them paid much attention to it.
Boreas had been left with Taylor in the adjoining suite.
For once, Dean was grateful.
He did not need an enormous dog attempting to lie across the maps.
Dean had changed out of the violet suit from dinner and into loose black trousers and a soft grey sweater. Arion had discarded his jacket but remained in his black shirt, sleeves pushed to his forearms. Hunter had not changed at all. His tie was loosened, and his coat lay across the back of a chair while he spread photographs of the western residence across the table.
