Frayed Ties (Ties, Book 1) | ✓

Chapter 7

Danya woke up alone in the tent the next morning. Or was it morning? He had no way to tell anything more than that the sun was up without leaving the tent.

He was exhausted. Mages healed much faster and more completely than humans, but it certainly took a toll on them physically. Not that Danya had ever actually experienced it before. The life he had lived had been far too sheltered.

Danya stretched out and his elbow knocked into a canteen. He yawned as he rolled over and discovered a few hard biscuits wrapped in paper next to it. Had Simon left them for him?

Pushing himself up felt so achingly difficult that it was strange to remember how easy it usually was to move his body. Even eating the biscuits was a chore that he struggled through, though he could already feel his body thanking him for it. He had been too tired to think about food, but he had badly needed it.

He had never felt so alone. Or... maybe as a young child, sometimes. They had been told the role they played in this world was a natural one, but Danya could remember feeling the deep absence of parents he'd never known. The matron had watched over a dozen children at any one point, leaving her little time to spare for each of them individually. She had cared for them, but she hadn't been their mother. She had merely kept them alive, kept them in line.

Being sent on to Milaine House for sale when he had turned thirteen had been terrifying, but in the end it had been preferable. There had been older children there who had cared for the youngsters. Later, when that role had fallen to Danya, Duran and Fanner had become like brothers to him.

And now he was nothing to nobody once more. Simon had no time to care for him — only to keep him alive, keep him in line.

Danya hoped someday he could accept that, could stop feeling this anxious, desperate craving for more. But... not today. Today he didn't have the energy to be strong.

On the other side of the tent, Simon's cot called to him. He wanted to snuggle up in it, preferably against Simon's body, but... maybe even alone it would bring him some comfort. Maybe, if he allowed himself that, he could find the strength to be what Simon wanted when he was around. He bit the inside of his lip to ground himself as he reminded himself what that was — minimally existent.

He would just lay down for a few minutes. He could lay his own blanket over the top of Simon's bedding so that his current state of uncleanliness didn't cause any mess, and... yes. Just for a few minutes.

Danya flopped down onto Simon's cot and let out a sigh. It felt as good as he had hoped and viciously lonely all at once. Perhaps if he had been cleaner himself he could have at least breathed in Simon's scent, but the smell of his own dried blood was overwhelming. He had almost died and all he wanted was a hug, but he was owed nothing. The fact that he hadn't been executed, that he hadn't even been punished, was an unimaginable kindness and he had no right to ask for anything more.

He curled up small and squeezed his damp eyes shut, just for a minute...

The sound of something slapping against the tent flap startled him awake.

It took a moment for Danya to remember where he was, and then exactly where he was. He pushed himself to his feet and guiltily bundled up his blanket.

Something slapped against the tent flap again, and Danya realised it had been deliberate. A kind of knocking.

Now that Danya was paying attention, he quickly realised he could feel another mage outside. He tossed his blanket back towards his own cot and went to see who was there.

Hair that shimmered in the sun like gold — like Duran's, and Fanner's, and all the other boys' Danya had left behind — was the last thing Danya had expected to see at a military camp. This mage was several years older than Danya, but with delicate features and that golden hair that hung soft and loose to his shoulders he met the Companion ideal perfectly. Danya was immediately envious and reflexively fond of him.