“Not a healer. But know someone. Will go get him. Back soon. If I remember.” The man frowned, looking worried. “Wait. Need something.”
The man yanked a blood-stained strap from Cuan’s armor. He held it up, the brass buckle glinting in the light.
“Yes. Good. That will work.” The man wound the strap around his own wrist, paying no attention to the way it stained his pristine white clothes. “Will remember now. Back soon.”
“Wait!” Tamsin called after the man as he strode for the door. “I don’t even know who you are.”
The door was already open, but the man reached for the handle anyway. “Most people call me Motley. When they aren’t throwing things.”
“Is that your real name?”
Motley stilled for an instant. “I don’t know.”
Without waiting for a response, he swung the door closed—with himself still in the room. Before Tamsin could ask what on earth he was doing, he jerked it open again. She caught a brief, impossible glance of pale tree trunks, stars caught between moonlit leaves—and then he was gone, the door closing behind him.
Tamsin stared at the door for a moment. Going over, she opened it herself, and found herself looking at the familiar empty stone corridor.
No sky. No forest. No Motley.
“Guess we’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto,” she muttered to herself.
Saying the name of the dog from the Wizard of Oz reminded her of her dog, still back in the real world. Angus wasn’t a clingy dog—he was far too full of his own self-importance for that—but even he had to be worried by now. The thought of him tied up all alone, barking and barking for her as the hours wore on and the night grew colder…
“Hang on, baby,” she whispered. “I’ll come back to you soon. I promise.”
But first she had to make sure Cuan would be all right. Motley didn’t seem like the most reliable of allies. She had no choice but to trust that he was indeed getting help, but she also didn’t know how long it might take to arrive.
“Compression,” she muttered, remembering her first aid training. “Got to stop the bleeding.”
She looked around for something she could use. The hall where she’d first arrived had been ornately carved and decorated, but this room was plain to the point of bareness. No embroidered hangings, no colored murals; just the bed and a few simple, utilitarian pieces of oak furniture. An odd wooden frame in one corner puzzled her for a moment until she realized it was a rack for holding armor.
There was no dust, yet the whole place had the feel of a hotel rather than a home; sterile, orderly, bland. If this was Cuan’s room, she got the impression he didn’t spend much time here.
“Wonder where you usually hang out.” Tamsin opened a drawer and found a row of neatly folded linen shirts. “Wow, Marie Kondo would love you. Who knew elves would be so organized?”
She grabbed one of the shirts, pressing it to the worst of Cuan’s wounds. He didn’t so much as twitch. His bronze skin had taken on a sickly pallor that she didn’t like at all. Even his tattoos seemed to be fading.
“Hey. Hey. Stay with me, big guy.” She stroked his dark hair back from his clammy forehead. “Cuan! Don’t you dare go and die on me now, you hear?”
His eyelids flickered at the sound of his name, just a fraction. His out-flung hand twitched. She took it, winding her fingers through his, and felt the tiniest, lightest pressure in return.
“That’s right. I’m here,” she murmured. “Hold on. Help is coming.”
She didn’t know how long she crouched there, babbling soothing nonsense. By the time the door creaked open again, the wadded shirt was soaked through.
“Ugh.” A tall blond man stood in the doorway, wearing brown robes and an expression of distinct exasperation. “Don’t tell me he’s already dead, and I came all this way for nothing.”
“Are you the healer?” Tamsin didn’t dare lift the pressure she was applying to Cuan’s wound. “He’s still alive, but barely.”
“Pity. I was just starting to hope I could turn around and go home.” With an irritated sigh, the man strode into the room, the hem of his robes sweeping across the floor. Like everyone else she’d seen so far, he had sharply pointed ears. “Well, let’s have a look at him. The sooner we can get this over with, the better.”
Tamsin drew back a little to give him access to the wounded warrior. As the healer bent over Cuan, she glanced at the open doorway. Once again, it framed a view of wild woodland. A faint breeze blew into the room, carrying the wet, green scent of soil and leaf litter.
Tamsin jumped as something white burst through the portal. A huge bird swooped twice around the room before landing on the end of the bed frame in a flurry of wings. The albino raven cocked its head in a strangely familiar gesture, staring at her with a gleaming, jet black eye.
“Motley?” Tamsin guessed, uncertain.
The raven let out a harsh caw. Then twinkling lights shimmered around its feathered body. When they faded, Motley’s lanky form perched on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched, still watching her with the raven’s bright, enigmatic gaze.