"There are other doors. The other Musketeers are here and some travel freely, it seems, back to Paris. So, let us go now," he told her, hand resting in the small of her back. "We just ... look for doors," he said, though it sounded mad, he knew. But if it was as she said, they had no time to waste.

"Some doors, I am told, are just doors. Others are portals to other places. Other ... times. We must use caution." As hard as it would.