Camilla was quiet for another moment.
"You do this often?" she asked.
"I've done it twice since I got it."
"Twice."
"The first time was when I abandoned it before impact. The second time is now."
She stared at the aircraft.
"You are going to be an interesting travel companion, cultivator."
"I get that a lot."
They walked toward the plane together. The wind buffeted them both. Camilla moved with the fluid, unhurried grace of a Royal Blood who did not feel the cold as an ordinary being felt it. Stan moved with the calm, focused efficiency of a man who was ready to be somewhere warmer.
He unlocked the aircraft. He extended the boarding stairs. He stepped aside and gestured her up.
She hesitated at the base of the steps. One long, pale hand rested on the aluminum railing. Her fingers pressed lightly against the cold metal.
"It is warmer inside?"
"Much warmer. Pressurized, temperature-controlled. It'll feel like a room."
"A room that flies."
"That's the general idea."
