He cracked up laughing. "Be careful what you wish for. It might just try and give it to you. I have enough worry with Valentine screwing about, opening portals to strange places. I don't need the house to start doing it as well."
Marcella explored the bathroom, and all her makeup and toiletries were neatly arranged.
"That saves me a lot of time setting up," she said and tucked up a curl that had come loose from her low bun. "The lighting and mirror make me look good too."
"That's just you," Cosimo replied, smiling at her because he couldn't stop. She might not be in his bedroom, but she was in his house, and his dragon was all but purring with happiness."What do you want to do now? There's a new bed here that needs christening."
"Nice try, but if we get on that bed, we won't leave it for the rest of the day." Marcella took his hand and beamed up at him. "Take me to the library,bello. We have grimoires to find, and then we will see about the bed."
Cosimo kissed her nose. "Cruel woman."
"Smartwoman," she corrected. "Think of it as motivation to help me find the grimoires faster."
Cosimo couldn't argue with that logic, so he gave the bed a wistful look that made her laugh and guided her to where all their research waited for them.
39
After a day of working on the grimoire research and getting absolutely nowhere, Marcella had told Cosimo she needed some alone time to decompress. He hadn't argued with her, only kissed her hand, pointed to the stairs leading further up the tower, and told her that was where he would be if she needed him.
Why couldn't she see what they were missing? Every time she stared at the wall of research in the library, something scratched at her brain, her intuition telling her the answer was rightthere. It was in front of her nose, and she was blinded to it.
Marcella had a long bath and went through her whole skin routine. It usually helped her think and sort out whatever she was working on, piece by piece. She thought about trying to go to sleep, but she was too restless. It was almost midnight, and she was pacing about her rooms, muttering to herself.
"Maybe tea would help? They are bound to have tea," she said, wrapping a robe around her nightgown. She grabbed her small pink bag that contained her travel manicure kit and headed out of the room.
She hesitated, looking at Cosimo's stairs, but decided not to wake him. She was obsessing, and there was nothing that she wanted to rant about that he hadn't been listening to all day.
The house was silent as Marcella made her way to the kitchen. It gave her the time to stop and look at the paintings for as long as she liked. The ones in her room weren't fakes, that much she knew for sure.
Cosimo told her that the house had been in the family for so long that it probably sorted through its version of archives and pulled decorations from the Greatdrakes during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries because it knew that she would like them.
Marcella loved how the house felt too. The magic of it was a marvel, but it was warm and lived in, and she could feel the history of it. It was like when she walked into an old city, she could feel the personality of it, the history of its people all embedded into the architecture. This was the city of Greatdrakes, and it all but pulsed with generations of love, loss, and family.
The longing for her parents struck her like a punch in the chest, a desperate ache for the security she had only felt with them unfurling inside her. They had been far from perfect, but they had loved her unconditionally. When they passed, that love was torn away, leaving her destabilized and searching for it ever since. It was one of the reasons she had looked so hard for Caterina's grimoire. She wanted to touch the pages and feel like the hand of her ancestor was reaching out to her.
Caught up in her melancholy thoughts, Marcella searched the kitchen until she found a selection of herbal teas in small jars. They had labels like 'For the Sads' and 'For the Sneezes' and 'For the Zzz's.' She decided to mix the sads and the zzz's together, hoping it wouldn't taste too bad. She recognized the smell of chamomile and mint in them, but her nose failed her on the rest.
The kitchen door swung open, and a disheveled Apollo came in, wearing unicorn pajama pants and a faded blue T-shirt.
"Hey. What are you doing awake?" he asked, rubbing his cheek.
"Driving myself crazy. Would you like some tea? I'm mixing a few together," Marcella replied and switched the kettle on.
"Which ones?" Apollo checked the labels and smiled. "These should be fine."
"Should I ask what's in them? Or is ignorance bliss?"
Apollo went to the fridge and started rummaging through it. "I used a few herbs and flowers that are only found in Faerie for some of them, but they are harmless. The really fun and poisonous ones are in the lab. Bas would lose it if I messed with his kitchen."
"I noticed it is his domain," Marcella replied. She made her tea, sat down at the counter, and took out her nail polish wipes.
"It's a Mom thing. He used to cook with her and then became the mother hen after she died. Thank the gods one of us did, or we would have all starved years ago."
"I see. That makes sense. It helps him feel close to her. I understand that," Marcella replied. "I occasionally go shopping at my mother's favorite boutiques for the same reason."
Apollo pulled out a plate of covered pizza slices, eating one cold before putting the rest in the microwave. "Are you stress manicuring?"
Marcella smiled. "Something like that. It helps me think, and after all the adventures climbing through forests and digging in graves, they were looking battered."
