"Prince Daemon, come and see what we found!" Ser Marlon Velaryon strode over after successfully bringing the slaves back. A few drops of sweat still clung to his face, but his voice brimmed with unmistakable excitement.
Behind him, several soldiers struggled to carry a heavy iron-clad chest off the ship. Its lid had already been pried open, and the hay used to cushion its contents had spilled everywhere.
Daemon turned at the sound of his voice. When his gaze fell on the object inside the chest, he visibly paused.
It was a bow.
Pitch-black from end to end, it had pointed horns at the tips of its limbs. Its curves were smooth and graceful-a recurve bow that anyone could tell at a glance had come from the hands of a master craftsman.
No one knew what creature's sinew had been used for the bowstring, but it gleamed with a dark, translucent sheen in the twilight.
"A dragonbone bow!"
Daemon recognized the rarity at once.
He strode forward and unceremoniously took the black bone bow, nearly half his height, from Marlon. His long fingers stroked its limbs, feeling the unusual texture that set it apart from ordinary wood.
Then he immediately raised his head and looked at Marlon Velaryon. A hint of wariness entered his "half-joking" gaze, so obvious it seemed almost deliberate.
Turning slightly, he angled the dragonbone bow toward Aegon, then lifted his chin and gestured toward Caraxes and Cannibal, who lay dozing on the nearby beach.
"These goods and these people are all spoils won by my nephew and me," Daemon said, his voice neither loud nor soft, yet clear enough for everyone present to hear.
He paused, his lips curling into something between a smile and a smirk, then delivered a seemingly playful warning. "Unless they've been