Page 35 of Changeling
He jerks his head up, his mouth a littleO. I hold back my grin. “With our coins. At a vendor. In the market. Not with worms and hooks at the river.”
“Oh.” He chuckles. “Perhaps I could manage that. I do have coin. But my friends always made this seem like fun.”
“It probably is for them. They got used to the gritty details as children. We are perhaps too squeamish for the reality of it.”
“Indeed,” he agrees. “Although”—his eyes light up—“I have an idea.”
I peer at him. “Should I be worried?”
“Probably not?”
His answer does not instill confidence, nor does the way he’s phrased it as a question.
Sebastian turns away from me to the river, both hands open, palms out.
I step forward for a better look. “What are you doing?”
“Shh. Let me concentrate.”
What a cheeky bastard. I gape at him—no one has shushed me before— and cross my arms over my chest. I watch whatever it is he’s doing in silence.
Then his magic stirs around us, warm and tingly, teasing mine with its lively presence. I sway with pleasure at the unintentional merging.
But wasn’t it his magic that got him in trouble in the first place?
“Sebastian?”Are you sure this is wise?is what I want to say, but I keep my mouth shut. I don’t want to discourage him any further.
Gracefully, he descends the bank and kneels close enough to the river that his knees must be getting soaked. His eyes are closed, and his fingers are twitching. The power has coalesced in front of him, so potent I imagine I can see it, an opalescent swirl of energy over the water. He’s beautiful like this, concentrating, surrounded by his magic.
Out of nowhere, an enormous fish the size of a loaf of bread leaps from the river directly into Sebastian’s open hands. He clenches his fingers around it, and his eyes pop open wide as saucers, clearly shocked his efforts have worked.
“I did it!” he exclaims gleefully, struggling to hold on to the flopping fish. “Did you see that?”
“I saw.” And wow, I’ve never seen magic used to call a fish right out of the water. I hadn’t known such a thing was possible. “Well done.”
His triumphant grin fades. “Now what?”
“I guess you kill it? Or let it die?” I’m certainly not touching the stinking thing. Though it’s pretty in its own way, with oil-slick scales and obsidian jewels for eyes. Still. No touchy.
Sebastian’s lips tremble. “It can’t breathe.”
His reluctance is obvious. He won’t kill this fish.
I suppress a laugh. “So let me get this straight. You wanted to go fishing. Theoretically tocatch fish, which we would then give to Rizpah to cook for us. To eat. Am I right so far?”
Sebastian gives a curt nod, still clinging to the thrashing beast.
“Surely, at some point in this thought process, you must have realized that a live fish must turn into a dead fish for that to happen, right?”
A little sigh of distress slips from his throat. It’s adorable.
I open my hands. “What am I missing?”
“You’re not missing anything,” he mumbles. “It’s just that I hadn’t thought about itthathard, and definitely not while one of them wiggles at me because it can’t breathe!”
I let the laughter that’s been bubbling at the surface this entire expedition spring forth. Once it’s started, I can’t stop it. I have to hold my stomach, I’m laughing so hard.
“Curses and camel spit, Sebastian! Throw the poor bastard back into the river. You’re clearly not cut out for this.”
