Marcello made his way back to his and Niabheara's room after finding the appropriate people and updating them on the Dareen situation.

He tidied a few things, pacing a little, and then cleared his throat. "Alice?" he asked.

The girl in black peeked around the doorway. "Curses. You've uncovered one of my secret identities." She had tied her hair in two short sprigs done up with tiny black-velvet bows. Her high-necked black velvet frockcoat was long enough to touch the tops of her tall, slender boots.

Marcello raised an eyebrow at her clothing. "You look...nice," he said. "I hear you've been ganging around with our little Dareen? Bringing her cake? Cleaning her house?"

"Rich damp cake with green sugar on it," she clarified. "The traditional cake for little girls who have no mothers." She flopped into Niabheara's chair.

"She has a mother," Marcello said, irritated, and then blinked. "There's a cake for that?" Then he gritted his teeth. "Black. Why didn't you tell us where she was?"

"You know there are things I can't tell you," she said. "And anyway it was kind of taking place in a pocket universe. There was nothing to do about it."

"I spoke to you about her," Marcello replied, in a pained tone, running a hand through his hair. He dropped into his own chair, rubbing at his face. "You talked to me about her, and you didn't say anything. You could have at least led me in the right direction. You could have told her she had a family somewhere."

"No, I couldn't." She cupped her hands around her knee, looking worried. "Marcello, please. There's always some things I can't say. I can't even say I wanted to tell you because I didn't. I knew better."

Marcello shut his eyes. "You understand what's going on now, don't you?" he asked. "You realize that Morgana may have lost her daughter?"

She fixed her eyes on him. "This wasn't Morgana's story."