The sound of wood splitting echoed through the clearing like gunshot blasts.
Kaelen stood by the woodpile, shirtless, his skin glistening with sweat despite the cool morning air. He was chopping wood as if each log were a personal enemy, specifically a scaly enemy.
That looked like Zarek.
Why do they always want every inch of Roxy?
A few yards away, Zarek was engaging in his own display of aggressive masculinity. The Dragon King was carrying entire tree trunks, unprocessed, massive Iron-Wood logs, on one shoulder, stacking them to reinforce the perimeter fence.
He wasn't using magic. He was using brute strength, his muscles rippling under his black tunic, ensuring that everyone, specifically Roxy, could see exactly how strong a real King was.
Roxy watched from the nursery window, rocking a fussy Iris in her arms.
The boys were already asleep, ignoring their sister's whine and crying.
