Hartley's house was one of three on the property.

Ellie and Kaz had the biggest home, partly because they housed everyone who needed a space to live that did not yet have a home. Harper and Alice had bedrooms there, as well as Granny— though, Granny had notably claimed the attic as her own from day one. It was also because Kaz was responsible for the construction, and he was not known to do things halfway. Their home looked like a scrumbled-together art piece, with patched together colored glass for the windows, walls made of stone, brick, and logs, and it all came together into a structure that seemed chaotically beautiful.

Miriam and her family lived in a standard log cabin style home, which they'd picked for simplicity and reliability. Miriam, Sam, and their two children had plenty of room in that place, and room for visitors, too.

Hartley, on the other hand, was the only resident of his home. The simple siding was painted dark blue at his request, the windows flanked by clean, pale gray shutters. A few wicker chairs sat on the simple, covered porch, the recently painted white railing practically glinting in the sunlight.

As she walked closer, it occurred to Alice that she'd never actually been inside the house since Hartley officially moved in. Of course, she'd seen it as it was built, but she didn't know what the inside looked like. Hartley was very private, and she'd... Well, she'd never passed the requirements to enter his home or his heart, apparently.

Brushing off the bitterness building on her tongue, she forced herself to look at the other surroundings even as she grew closer to the dark blue house. In addition to the houses, they had a small barn, a shed for gardening supplies, and Kaz was working hard on a greenhouse structure. The familiar surroundings should have been soothing, but Alice couldn't brush off the thought of the last time she'd seen Hartley.

She shouldn't still feel this bitter. She certainly didn't feel bitter because she wanted him.

"I think you want to be loved. I do not, for one moment, believe you really love me as you think you do."

The words still stung, and if she was honest with herself, she knew why: Hartley was right.

She'd already come to that conclusion when thinking about Xavier, but being back here made things feel in perspective in a way that she wasn't expecting. It was amazing how much three weeks away from home could change you, but perhaps that was also because Alice had never been away from home. She'd never had the chance to be without people who saw her grow up, to discover who she was...

And perhaps that was another reason she'd latched onto Hartley. He hadn't seen her grow up, so she could make herself into what he wanted in a partner without suspicion or skepticism... but that hadn't worked. He'd seen right through her.

And now she had Florian, and she was learning who she wanted to be, just as herself, as Alice... And Florian liked it. That thought gave her enough courage to face up to her past actions.

Hartley was sitting on the porch of his home, just as he had been the day she'd run away and found Xavier in the woods. He was reading a book, and though she couldn't see what it was, she was certain he'd finished the previous one by now. The man read at an incredible pace.

He looked up when he heard footsteps.

It was like Harley to be calm. He was generally unshakeable, no matter the circumstance, so it wasn't too surprising that he only slightly flinched when he looked up from his book. Locking eyes with Alice, his posture stiffened a little, his eyes going almost imperceptibly wider, but that was all.

He was silent as she drew closer to the porch, keeping her steady pace, petting Missy absently to help keep herself calm.

When she came close to the porch, she stopped before walking up the steps, and for the life of her, she could not figure out what to say. Her mouth flapped open and closed as Missy looked back and forth between them, but no help came from her possum companion.

In the end, it was alright, because Hartley spoke first.

"I'm sorry," he said slowly, looking away.

Alice paused, lips parted to speak, but no sound came out. Whatever she was expecting, it wasn't an apology. But... perhaps mutual apologies were in order.

It was time to be an adult about this, just like Ellie said.

"I... I'm sorry, too," she finally said. "And... You were... right."

It was almost painful to admit it out loud, and she couldn't meet his eyes while saying it. Still, it needed to be said. All in all, she'd learned something important from the experience, as painful and embarrassing as it had been.

"I shouldn't have been so harsh on you about it," Hartley said, closing his book. He gestured to the empty chair on the porch. "Sit. Let's talk."

Alice trudged up the steps and plopped down in the second wicker chair, unsurprised when Missy scrambled down from her shoulder to go sniff at Hartley. She probably wanted to get an idea of his scent to see if he was friend or foe, or even to identify him later. Hartley didn't seem bothered by her investigation, holding out a hand so she could smell, and even letting her climb up on his shoulders.

"Who's this?" Hartley asked, chuckling as Missy sniffed at him.

"This is Missy. She's a good friend," Alice said with a smile. "She's been there for me a lot the past few weeks."

"I'm glad. Based on what Willow has told us, it seems like you've needed someone," he said sadly. "I... can't help but feel as though this is partly my fault."

"It's not." Alice shook her head and leaned back in the wicker chair. "It's my fault. I ran off, and I made the choice to follow."

"You wouldn't have run off without my... Well..." he trailed off, frowning.

"Don't worry 'bout it. What's done is done." She sighed, shaking her head. Three weeks ago, she might have pointed fingers and placed blame, but there were bigger things at stake here than that. She'd rather take responsibility and resolve the situation.

"Still, I want to do what I can to help with this," Hartley insisted. "Willow gave me a journal when she arrived—"

"Thank the Lord!" Alice cried, clapping her hands together. Missy squeaked and scuttled back over to her lap, perching in her usual place.

"It's that important?"

"It's Xavier's. Deer man. Or... I think it's his? It came from his desk," she stuttered. "In any case, somebody hid the thing, so it's gotta be important."

"I can certainly agree with that sentiment," he said with a nod.

"So... how's the translating going?" Alice asked hopefully.

Hartley winced.

"I'm working on it," he said, sighing. "The language is something close to Sumerian, but it's a dialect I've never seen. There are words thrown in that aren't in that language at all— it looks closer to something like a bastardized Latin or archaic French, but with the wrong syllabary. The consistency is... Well. It isn't consistent."

"But you can read it," she said. He knew the languages, at least. That was already much, much farther than she or Willow had been able to get.

"I can get a basic gist of the content, yes," Hartley said, tilting his head back and forth. "It's far from specific, though, and it feels incredibly jumbled to look through. The sentence structure is baffling."

"I knew you could do it," Alice said, a smile pulling at her mouth.

"Don't speak too soon," Hartley said, letting out a slow breath. "It'll take time to get it into a readable format."

"... How's three days?" she asked, wincing.

Hartley blinked. "I'm sorry— three days?"

"It's all I got," she said with a helpless shrug.

"Well," he said, taking a deep breath, "that will have to do, then."

Alice nodded slowly, pausing in petting Missy, eyes locked onto something invisible in the middle space.

Would it be enough? What if they couldn't stop Xavier? She wasn't even entirely certain what Xavier was planning, but Florian didn't deserve to be trapped like he was, and Xavier was... bad news. Very, very bad. The more she thought of his scheming, his violent outbursts, the way the staff was afraid of him, the more she was determined that something needed to be done.

And it made her wonder something about herself, too.

"What are you not saying?" Hartley asked, eyes narrowing. "I know that look on your face."

That was the downside to living in close quarters with people. You got to know their quirks and their habits, and eventually everyone could read each other like a book. And she did have another question, but she was afraid to ask it.

This might be her only shot at a real answer, though.

"If Xavier is my mirror... does that mean I'm that bad, too?" Alice whispered.

It had been on her mind for days. She was too scared to ask Florian, too afraid to confront the question herself, and she wasn't sure why it came out now, in the presence of the man she hadn't even wanted to talk to when she first came here. But... If anyone would know the answer to this, if anyone had any knowledge about it at all... it would be him.

"What?" Hartley asked, blinking furiously. "What are you talking about, Alice?"

"He's my mirror," she said softly, pulling her knees to her chest, skirt pooling over her legs. "An' I don't want him to be."

Hartley stared at her for a long moment, long enough that Alice stopped looking at the ground. Instead, she dared to glance up at him, catching a glimpse of that intelligent, calculating nature peeking through that she'd once found so attractive. Now it just made her feel scrutinized.

Now, it made her long for Florian's gentle smiles.

"Who told you he's your mirror?" Hartley asked carefully. His tone was almost suspiciously neutral.

"I guess nobody needed to, did they?" she sniffed, rolling up her sleeve to show him the scar-like pattern on her forearm. "We got these. They match. That's enough, ain't it?"

Hartley swallowed thickly. He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again. Finally, he took a slow, controlled breath, and looked her right in the eyes, his expression grave.

"Mirrors don't have marks, Alice," Hartley said softly. "I can confirm that for you myself."

But... That made no sense.

"So what's... what's this, then?" she asked, pointing at the mark.

"It's a bargain mark, I believe," he said confidently. "I can only assume it's from when you were promised to Xavier at birth. Fae, in particular, like to leave visible evidence of a bargain on skin. Though... I admit I'm not entirely certain how you wound up with a mark when your mother made the bargain."

"I was part of the deal. I thought that was enough."

"Not usually, no," he muttered, shaking his head. "You'd need to be a major party involved in the bargain, the one who made the deal. Not a bargaining chip."

But she... was a bargaining chip, wasn't she? Her mother promised her to Xavier, and that was it. The only other thing that tied them together was—

The blood vows.

They were just another type of bargain, weren't they? At the end of the day, it was a special set of promises to be magically fulfilled by both parties involved. It wouldn't be unreasonable to think that they resulted in a mark.

It wasn't the first bargain that caused the mark on her skin. It was a second one made on top of it.

Xavier told her that the design was a manifestation of their bond on skin. That could be true. It would certainly be easy to goad a baby into drinking the mere drops of blood required for the vows, and easy to twist the wording to imply consent from an unsuspecting child.

It also wouldn't be unreasonable to assume that someone like Xavier would want to mark her. He wouldn't want to be tricked away from the exact girl he bargained for, and this was a way to do it. He'd even said that the first part of the three-part marriage vows had already taken place... presumably when she was a baby. Her mother must have taken the vows on her behalf.

The scar was a remnant of their marriage contract, etched into her skin her whole life. It was the first of the promises she'd made, knowingly or unknowingly— promises that Alice now desperately wanted to run from.

"... Have you heard'a blood marriage vows?" Alice asked.

Hartley paled.

"You didn't."

"I... technically haven't," she muttered, looking away. "Not completely."

Hartley sighed in relief, rubbing a hand across his eyes. "Good. Blood vows were outlawed in my home world a long, long time ago. They're dangerous."

"It's not a marriage thing?"

"It's to bind two souls together so that they become one," he explained. "Or, at least, as close as possible to one. It's often used by people who want to simulate the bond of a mirror soul, but from everything I've heard and read, it's... nothing like it at all."

"I thought a mirror was like... looking at yourself. Why wouldn't that be the same if you merge?"

"You're still independent beings as mirror souls. You have your own thoughts, free will, and independent magic. Blood vows... they take that away."

She opened her mouth to respond, but the look on Hartley's face stopped her.

He was... sad. Not just sad, though, he looked anguished. He looked like a crucial part of himself had been ripped away from him, like he'd been to hell and back, like there were shadows behind those eyes she'd never even begun to guess at before.

"How do you know so much about mirrors?" she asked carefully, eyes narrowing.

It could be his age. Hartley knew a lot because of his sheer age, which he generally refused to reveal to most people. However, something in his unflappable façade seemed to crack a little at that question, seemed to shake a little under the scrutiny in a way she hadn't seen before.

Hartley crossed his arms over his chest, looking away. He didn't speak for a long moment, but the tension in his posture was almost like nothing she'd ever seen in him. Instead of looking calm and collected, he seemed agitated and nervous. It was almost like he wanted to run away from the room, his hands curling into fists and uncurling over and over again as he tapped his foot impatiently.

"I found mine," he finally said.

Alice let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Something clicked into place in her thoughts, in her memories. It made sense that he was avoiding romantic connections. It didn't matter how long ago it happened. With a connection as strong as that, losing them would be incredibly scarring, and... Well, it seemed like he hadn't taken it well.

"It was a long time ago," he confirmed.

"What... happened?" she hazarded, almost afraid to ask.

"She died," he said flatly. "And I decided it was time to work on myself." It sounded detached, distant, like a wound that hadn't yet healed over. It didn't matter how long it had been. Things hadn't settled for Hartley, not yet.

That would, at the very least, explain the haunted look in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said. It felt hollow and superficial, but they were the only words that she had.

"I am, too." Hartley took a deep breath before he continued. "I know some sources have... conflicting information about mirror souls, to say the least. I'm not sure how some of those rumors came about, but I can tell you what I know."

"What..." Alice sighed, frustrated. "Okay, not to sound stupid, but what even is a mirror? I keep hearing that it's this profound connection, but I'm not seein' how it happens and I'm not feelin' it happen, either."

Hartley nodded slowly. He didn't speak for a moment, like he was trying to think of how to describe it in the clearest way possible.

He didn't call her stupid, either, though. He never would, and she knew that. At one time, she assumed that was because he might have some kind of romantic love for her, but now she was starting to understand that was just part of how Hartley treated his friends with respect.

"You know how you pick up habits from people you live with?" Hartley asked.

Alice nodded.

"Imagine picking up habits across centuries. Across lifetimes," Harley said slowly. "Imagine someone whose soul has become so well tangled with yours that it's no longer certain if the reflected pieces originate from one side or the other."

"Your other half," she said dreamily, but Hartley shook his head.

"A mirror isn't half your soul, Alice. You exist as a whole person all on your own," Hartley said softly. "They're not your only hope for love, either, even if you do meet them. They can even be platonic."

"Then... then what's the point of havin'em?!" Alice huffed. "If a soul mate is such a big damn deal, you shouldn't have to work for it, too."

"A soul mate isn't there to suddenly be everything you've ever needed, they are there so you can grow together," he snapped. "It's a mutual responsibility, not an instant solution to your problems."

"How can you ever tell, then?" Alice asked, throwing up her hands. This all seemed too complicated and painful for her to worry about.

"I think you know for sure when you stop asking yourself if it's important that they're your mirror or not," he admitted. "When it doesn't matter anymore. You just want to be with them, come hell or high water."

"I..." Alice sighed. "That seems annoying."

"I know," Hartley said with a small laugh. "Trust me, I know."

Well, that...

That certainly, absolutely, without a single doubt... did not apply to Xavier.

Despite the heaviness of the moment, Alice felt a sense of relief. It was like a weight off her chest knowing that she really, truly was not permanently tied to Xavier. He wasn't her cosmic perfect match across lifetimes. He wasn't even her match in this lifetime!

She'd been right all along not to trust him.

However... there were still questions unanswered. There were still too many variables, too many missing pieces to make out the full picture.

"So what was Florian trying to tell me about the mark...?" Alice mumbled. Or, rather, what couldn't he tell her about the mark?

"Florian?" Hartley asked, suddenly perking up. "You met the Shadow Fae prince?"

"It's compl—" Alice cut off, eyes narrowed. "Wait. How do you know about him? Did Willow tell you, too"

"Willow mentioned him, but a friend of a friend had some information about the Shadow Court. We did a little research after you left," he explained.

A friend of a friend? Willow giving information was one thing, but if someone outside the Shadow Court could remember Florian's existence, that meant he hadn't been entirely erased. That was good. That meant Xavier's magic had a limit.

"The memory lock must only work inside the walls..." Alice mumbled.

She wasn't sure how the memory block or his claim to the throne affected the communities of Shadow Fae around the world, but if he could establish his authority over one, he could likely branch out to the rest of them in time. He wouldn't need to make them forget Florian, eventually.

If there was a limit to his magic, though... That meant Alice could do something about it.

That meant she might be able to eat away at it with her own magic. If she could figure out how, that was.

"Memory lock?" Hartley asked hesitantly, jarring her out of her thoughts.

"I... think I have a lot to explain," Alice said with a sigh, plopping down in one of the wicker chairs. "Sit. This is gonna take a while."