The transport doors opened.
For several seconds, nobody emerged.
The engines continued their low mechanical hum behind the security barrier while Nurian guards held position along the edges of the landing platform. Silver light from the aircraft's hull reflected across pale stone and the tall glass panels of the western terrace.
Then Max appeared at the top of the stairs.
Arik stared at him.
His uncle had apparently won his argument with security.
Or, considerably more likely, smiled pleasantly until somebody decided allowing him through was easier than continuing to say no.
Max had always been good at that.
He wore a dark traveling coat over formal black, fitted neatly to a frame considerably smaller than Damian's. The resemblance between the two half-brothers remained unmistakable. The same dark hair, though silver now threaded Max's temples, and similarly precise features. Only the eyes differed; Max's a clear dark green instead of sovereign gold.
