Page 125 of Scales Make Three


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Fair.

Roxy shifts, claws scraping lightly over my chestplate scars, and mumbles something in her sleep.

“Boom,” she whispers.

Proud parent moment.

The door slides open with a soft hiss and Sable steps in, already dressed, hair pulled back in that sharp, elegant way that still does unfair things to my brain. She smells like citrus cleanser and expensive product and home.

She takes one look at the situation and sighs.

“You let her sleep on you again,” she says.

“She tackled me,” I reply quietly. “I lost initiative.”

“She is three.”

“She is a predator.”

Roxy snorts and curls tighter, tail wrapping around my leg like a living restraint.

Sable crosses her arms. “You were supposed to move her back to her bed.”

“I was going to,” I say. “But then she said ‘boom’ and I felt emotionally validated.”

Sable pinches the bridge of her nose. “You’re impossible.”

“You married this,” I remind her.

She pauses. Then smiles despite herself. “I married a technically retired war criminal with a god complex and a soft spot for glitter.”

Roxy’s eyes snap open.

“GLITTER?” she roars.

The windows rattle.

I wince. “Inside voice, terror nugget.”

She grins—too many sharp little teeth, all delight—and scrambles upright on my chest, scales catching the light in deep reds and burnished golds. She’s wearing a tutu. I don’t know when she put it on. I don’t question these things anymore.

“Daddy,” she declares, pointing one clawed finger at the ceiling. “I dreamt BIG BOOM.”

Sable sighs. “Please tell me it was metaphorical.”

“No,” Roxy says solemnly. “Pretty.”

Of course it was.

Sable looks at me. “She gets that from you.”

I sit up carefully, bracing Roxy with one arm so she doesn’t headbutt me off the bed. “She also likes glitter and loud music. That part’s on you.”

“Excuse you,” Sable says. “She has refined taste.”

Roxy cackles and launches herself off the bed, landing with a bone-shakingthudthat makes the floor complain. She immediately starts dragging a box of craft supplies toward the window.

“Oh no,” Sable says. “No no no. We talked about craftingoutside.”