Mistress of Dragons
“He propped himself up on one elbow, watched Edward scoop a fish out of the water with his bare hands and fling it up onto the bank. Several fish lay there already, flopping about, gasping.
“I’m impressed,” said Draconas.
“It’s a trick I learned as a boy,” Edward said. “My father taught me.”
He made a dart, a dive, and another fish flew through the air, scales gleaming.
“I think that should be enough for breakfast,” he commented, wading out of the water.
Shaking his arms, shivering in the cool morning air, he toweled himself with his blanket, pulled his shirt on over his head.
“I thought you were going to sleep the day away,” he added, grinning at Draconas. “Now that I caught the fish, you can cook them. That’s your punishment for not waking me for my turn at watch.”
Draconas glanced at the water skin, saw that it had been moved. The sand beneath the stopper was damp.
“Where is Melisande?” he asked, looking around and not finding her.
“She wanted to bathe.
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