Frayed Ties (Ties, Book 1) | ✓

Chapter 7

The mage gave Danya a smile and inclined his head respectfully. "I'm Cailan. Officer Bolasco instructed me to bring you some clean robes."

Danya finally stopped scrutinising Cailan's features long enough to notice the bundle of fabric he was holding. He had no idea who Officer Bolasco was, though. Definitely not Simon. His last name was Bell. "Oh... thank you?"

"Hamish," Cailan explained at Danya's look of uncertainty. "He's drinking with my master, Liam Roy."

"Oh!" Danya stepped aside to let Cailan into the tent. Hadn't Hamish said something about someone named Liam? That he might be a good fit for Simon's unit? "Simon — I mean, Captain Bell, my master — he and Hamish are friends. They only ever address one another by their first names."

"Please, don't let me be a worry to you." Cailan set the bundle of robes down next to Danya's bed. "This can be a difficult place for our kind. I'm not here to pass judgement on you."

Danya couldn't necessarily say the same, as he suspected Hamish had sent Cailan to him with the intention that Danya would extract information about his relationship with his master from him. Still, he let some of the tension relax out of his shoulders. "Sorry. The last few days have been... rather hectic."

"You're not out of balance, are you?"

Danya laughed tiredly. "No. I would have to have energy for it to be out of balance."

He didn't mention that once he did recover that would likely become a problem because Simon had no interest in touching him. Simon had made it very clear that matters involving the nature of their relationship were strictly confidential.

"I heard about what happened." Cailan's gaze traced the scratches that ran down Danya's throat. "I can't imagine what that must have been like. If there's anything I can do to help..."

Cailan looked so much like the boys Danya had grown up with that it was tempting to simply collapse in his arms and cry, but Danya knew that would be unwise. He turned his attention to the pile of plain robes instead and picked one up. "Something clean to wear is exactly what I needed. Thank you."

"Hamish thought you might appreciate it, and of course Liam didn't mind me donating some of my old robes. He gives me far more than I need."

Danya examined the robe in his hands. It was of a simple, practical design, but the fabric was soft and the china blue had obviously been chosen to match Cailan's eyes. Maybe even dyed specifically for him. "Your master must be quite wealthy to have afforded such a fine slave, and with enough left over to spoil him."

"Well, it's a family wealth, but yes. Here, let me help."

Danya lifted his arms and let Cailan tug his filthy old robe off. He could swear he heard it crackle from the stiffness of dried blood as it went past his ears. "It's an unusual job choice for someone wealthy, isn't it? The upper class usually makes the wise choice of avoiding the front lines."

Cailan tossed Danya's old robe aside and brushed his hands together, cleaning them off with a tiny release of magic. "Few of any class make wise decisions at sixteen."

Danya grimaced down at himself. The crimson robe had disguised the blood well, but his fair skin did not. He was absolutely filthy. He looked like a murderous vagrant.

"He's surely much older than that now," Danya pointed out. "It must have taken more than childish impulse to carry him this far."

Cailan's eyes scanned Danya's body, but he seemed unperturbed by the mess. This was probably nothing compared to the state of his master after battle. "He has had ample opportunity to choose a new path in life, of course, but he has a certain... attachment to the lifestyle. Or at least an attachment to not following the path his father would choose for him."