Tamsin stared from him to Cuan, and then at the healer. “Does everyone around here turn into an animal?”
“No,” the healer said in curt, irritated tones. “I turn into a man. Obviously.”
“His name’s Aodhan,” Motley volunteered. “He’s a unicorn.”
Aodhan cast the other man a pointed glare. “Unicorns are self-important snowflakes with ridiculous sexual hang-ups and good PR. Do I look like I have a virginity fetish?”
“Um.” Tamsin wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “So if you aren’t a unicorn, what are you?”
“A librarian,” Aodhan snapped. “And also, at the moment, thoroughly annoyed. Stop asking silly questions, human. Unless you want this overgrown idiot to expire at your feet.”
Tamsin shut her mouth.
“It’s all right.” Motley was still hunched on the bed frame, his bare toes gripping the wood. “Aodhan’s not as bad as he seems.”
“No, I’m worse.” Aodhan stood up, folding his arms and glaring down at Cuan as though his wounds were a personal insult. “Unfortunately, I also owe this cursed mutt a debt. Everyone back up. I need space for this.”
Tamsin retreated. Aodhan made a sharp, impatient gesture, shooing her further away. He waited, foot tapping, until she’d squeezed herself right into the corner.
“Good enough,” he grunted at last. He shook back the sleeves of his robe, exposing muscled forearms. “Now stay there, and stay still. Also, you might want to close your eyes.”
Tamsin started to ask why—and then a flare of golden light blinded her. She threw up her hand, shielding her face.
After a second, the glare stabbing through her closed eyelids faded to the warm glow of summer sunlight. She risked a peek—and her jaw dropped.
“You are a unicorn,” she blurted out.
The creature’s sapphire eyes rolled, shooting her a dirty look. With a pointed snort, it spread its wings.
“Oh,” Tamsin breathed. She reached out, unable to help herself, toward those gleaming golden feathers. “Oh. Can I…?”
“You most certainly may not.” The winged unicorn’s muzzle didn’t move, but the voice was unmistakably Aodhan’s. It folded its wings again, the feathers lying flat against its sleek white flanks. “Now shut up so I can work.”
The alicorn’s silky golden mane swung forward as it lowered its head. The tip of its long, spiraling horn brushed Cuan’s wound. The sunlight glow brightened. Light ran from Aodhan’s horn, pooling over Cuan’s motionless form.
Cuan’s chest rose abruptly. He sucked in a great, gasping breath, as though he’d been drowning. Color returned to his face. His tattoos—or whatever they were—shimmered brighter blue, once more standing out bold and vibrant on his skin.
Another bright flash made Tamsin squeeze her eyes shut. When she opened them again, Aodhan was standing there on two feet again, straightening his robes. He held up his hands in front of his face, turning them over as though inspecting them.
“It’s impossible to get the fingers right first time,” he said grumpily. “I’d finally tweaked them to the perfect length and position, and now I’m going to have to start all over again. You humanoids have no idea just how complicated your bodies are.”
Tamsin knelt down next to Cuan. Drying blood still coated his side, but underneath were just pink, fading scars. The bruise was gone from his temple too. His eyes were still closed, but at least he looked like he was sleeping rather than dead.
“He’s going to be okay?” she asked Aodhan.
“Well, I couldn’t do anything about his tragic lack of common sense, but the rest of him is back in one piece.” Aodhan dropped his hands back to his sides. “He’ll be unconscious for some time, though, while his energy recovers. When he wakes up, tell him that this pays off my debt. Next time he decides to walk onto someone else’s sword, he can fix it himself.”
“I can’t wait around until he wakes up. I have to get back home.” Tamsin looked hopefully at Motley. “Can you make a magic portal for me, like you did to go fetch Aodhan? One that will take me back to the human realm?”
Motley shifted his weight from foot to foot, like a bird balancing on a swaying branch. “Not supposed to.”
“But can you? For me? Please?”
Motley still looked uneasy, but he nodded. “Yes.”
“No,” Aodhan said.
Tamsin’s heart, which had been rising, sank straight back into her shoes. Even in this form, Aodhan looked like he could hold her off with ease—and that was discounting the fact that he could turn into a huge winged horse with a great big spike sticking out of its forehead.