"The bracelet? Yes, I know. She hasn't mentioned anything unusual. The strangest thing she has done is sing a kind of chant when she touched the statue of Minerva."
Yelena positioned herself beside him and leaned into him. "I know what it's like to have to hide who you are, and I think she's doing the same. She hasn't trusted anyone to show them." Yelena sipped her tea. "I know your dragon wants her. You hide it well from the others, but I'm a dragon and I can see it. I can smell it in the air when you are together."
"She doesn't get involved with co-workers," Cosimo said, trying to find something to cling to.
"That's a flimsy excuse, and you know it. It's only us here, so tell me, would it be so horrible to consider taking another mate again?"
Cosimo couldn't push her question away or deflect it like he could with the others. She was a dragon, and they took another mate if they lost their first one. It was biological.
"I can't open up to someone like that and lose them again, Yelena," he admitted softly. "It almost killed me the first time."
She considered that for a long moment. "Maybe one day you will feel like the love you will get in return will be worth the possibility of loss."
Cosimo swallowed down the lump in his throat. "It's not just that. My dragon is more awake now. Marcella is nothing like Lisa. She wouldn't tolerate my overprotectiveness for long. Her ex talked to her like trash in front of me, and I wanted to tear him apart with my bare hands. I would end up smothering her with my fear of losing her. I can't do that to her."
Yelena drank her tea. "I don't think you give yourself enough credit. You don't smother any of us. You look after us, but none of us resent it. None of your fears change the fact that you have feelings for her."
"The dragon certainly has feelings. It never shuts up about it."
"The dragon isyou. You need to stop fighting it, and then you will stop feeling like you're tearing yourself apart. Maybe if you work on that, the way youactuallyfeel about Marcella might become clearer to you."
Unfortunately, Cosimo knew how he felt but wasn't brave enough to admit it out loud, not even to himself. Cosimo put an arm around Yelena's shoulders. "You are very wise, little one."
"I am very old, that's why. So listen to your elder. Go and spend time with the boys today. Clear your head," Yelena told him, resting her head against his shoulder. "And don't worry about Marcella. Us girls are going to make sure she is okay."
"Thank you. I don't think she is telling me all that happened in that message. Something is off."
Yelena smiled. "I'll get to the bottom of it, and I'll find out what she's hiding underneath that bracelet while I am at it."
Knowing that there was no point in arguing with a Greatdrakes woman when they had made their mind up about something, Cosimo kissed her on the forehead and started to make breakfast.
Marcella might feel more comfortable talking with women, and he knew no one alive could stand up to his daughters' interrogation techniques when they put their minds to it.
16
Marcella pulled on her favorite oversized knit sweater and wrapped it snugly around herself. It was made of soft sheep's wool, dyed a rich purple, and it had belonged to her mother, Amalia. Her warm Sicilian blood had taken time to get used to the wet, dark winters. It had been knitted by her when she had been suffering through her first December in the north.
The weather in Florence was dreary, so Marcella had dug out the jumper. It still carried a faint scent of her mother's old perfume, and Marcella only wore it on days when she wished she could talk to her and get her advice. It had been a hell of a night. She was struggling with her growing feelings for Cosimo, and she wanted her mother to turn up at her door, feed her sweet treats, and pull tarot cards until Marcella felt better.
Now that Carlo had a contact number for her again, he hadn't stopped with just messaging her a location for a meeting. At midnight, when he would have no doubt been drunk, her phone had started to light up over and over again. She ended up turning it off because she couldn't handle reading every bit of nonsense he decided to send her.
It had ranged between longing diatribes about wanting to try and fix their marriage, to abusing her for leaving him, to a picture of his dick to 'show you what you're missing.' She engaged with none of it, but she was exhausted by the barrage nonetheless.
Marcella had woken at 2 a.m., her heart pounding, as Carlo's magic slithered maliciously against the new wards Valentine had put up.
Marcella thought all the years that had passed in relative peace would mean that he had moved on. Opening a way of connection to him had been worse than opening Pandora's box. All his disgusting and abusive behavior had only been building up.
Marcella needed to steady her racing heart and emotions, so she got out cloths, hot water, and oils to clean her altars. She had moved the items to another table and was about to light her first stick of incense when there was a knock at her door.
Only people who lived in the building could get in if they weren't buzzed in from an apartment. Marcella looked through the keyhole and saw three smiling faces. Correction, no one could get in unless they were magicians.
Marcella opened the door and tried not to be embarrassed by her makeup-free face and her hair bundled up into a messy bun.
"Hello. What are you three doing here?" she asked.
Bridget beamed at her and thrust a bouquet of flowers toward her. "Just came to say hi while we are in the city," she said a little too brightly.
"And we have food!" Yelena said, holding up a large shopping bag.
