Page 56 of Captive
"I expect nothing," Sebastian replied with a slight shrug, though the bindings limited the movement. "But the information might save lives. Take it or leave it."
The chamber fell silent except for the gentle hum of the crystal formations. Sebastian let the quiet stretch, wondering when he'd started caring about orc scouts dying in the forest. When their safety had become more important than his family's tactical advantage.
Perhaps it had started with Boarstaff's touch during the feedings, not just the physical contact, but the careful way the warchief handled him. As if Sebastian was something worth preserving rather than just using. Or perhaps it had begun earlier, when he'd first seen that child clutching her wooden doll, awaiting the same fate that had befallen him centuries ago.
Sebastian's enhanced hearing caught the familiar sound of Boarstaff's approach long before the guards noticed. He could distinguish individual footfalls, the subtle weight shift that spoke of recent activity, the barely perceptible acceleration as the warchief neared the chamber. Sebastian went still, his attention focused entirely on the worn stone stairs, his pulse quickening despite his restraints.
"What is it?" Koric asked, noting Sebastian's sudden alertness.
Before Sebastian could answer, Boarstaff's footsteps became audible to the guards. They straightened, their casual conversation dying as their warchief's approach became unmistakable.
"Leave us," Boarstaff commanded as he entered. The guards exchanged glances but complied, taking positions just beyond thethreshold. Ochrehand, who had been quietly observing from the corner, lingered a moment longer before she too withdrew.
"The warriors are ready." Boarstaff knelt beside him, close enough that Sebastian could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "Everything is in place based on the information you provided."
Sebastian nodded, acutely aware of Boarstaff's proximity. His scent filled Sebastian's awareness: forest herbs, weapon oil, and something uniquely him that made Sebastian's transformed body respond in ways his father's improvements never would have permitted.
"I need to be certain," Boarstaff continued, studying Sebastian's face with predator's intensity. "That every detail you've provided is accurate. That my warriors aren't walking into a trap."
"I told you everything I know." Sebastian met his gaze directly. "The patrol patterns. The guard rotations. Where they keep the improvement chambers. All of it's true."
Boarstaff's hand moved to the rawhide binding at Sebastian's wrist, fingers running over the intricate knots and magical patterns woven into the ancient material. The binding loosened under Boarstaff's touch. The rawhide seemed to obey his will, the ancient magic recognizing the warchief's authority. Sebastian caught his breath as the pressure on his chest eased for the first time since they'd captured him.
"You're loosening them." He couldn't hide his surprise.
"Not taking them off. Not completely." Boarstaff's hands worked through knots that Sebastian now realized formed words in a language older than any he'd ever seen. "Just enough to see what you're becoming."
The binding on his right wrist gave way, letting Sebastian move his arm for the first time in weeks. The feeling of freedom rushed through his body like blood returning to a sleeping limb. He stretched carefully, feeling life return to muscles that had been held immobile for so long.
"You trust me that much?" Sebastian couldn't mask his shock. Back home, no one would ever leave themselves so vulnerable. His people measured every advantage and calculated every risk.
"I trust what I've seen." Boarstaff's fingers traced the healing scarwhere brass had marred flesh at his wrist. "What you've proven through each feeding. Each choice to learn control rather than cling to regulation."
The binding at his left wrist loosened next, then the one crossing his chest. Still restrained, but no longer immobilized. Sebastian rolled his shoulders carefully, feeling joints pop and tendons stretch for the first time in what felt like an eternity.
"There's something your warriors need to know about my father's inner sanctums," he said urgently. "The deeper chambers have locks designed to respond only to noble blood. No one else can enter, not human servants, not even lower-ranked vampires."
Boarstaff's eyes sharpened. "You never mentioned this before."
"I didn't think of it until now," Sebastian admitted, frustrated with himself for the oversight. "These locks are so fundamental to our defenses, we take them for granted. Like breathing, you don't think about it until you can't." He extended his wrist without hesitation. "Take my blood with you. It will allow temporary access to the inner chambers where they're keeping the child."
Boarstaff's expression shifted as he grasped the implications. He produced a small brass vial from his belt, a container clearly designed for ritual purpose rather than vampire artifice. The metal was worn smooth from years of use, etched with symbols that seemed to pulse with their own subtle power.
The knife's touch was careful, precise. Sebastian watched his blood flow into the brass vial, darker than human, but not the carefully processed sustenance his father's feeding chambers produced. Real blood that carried power his father's improvements had tried to suppress, blood that was changing with each passing hour as his transformation continued.
"The locks are calibrated to recognize House de la Sang's lineage," he explained as Boarstaff sealed the vial. "Just apply a small amount to the door mechanisms. It will disguise your presence long enough to reach the improvement chambers."
As Boarstaff withdrew the knife, Sebastian's fingers closed gently around his wrist, the first time he'd been able to initiate such contact since his capture. He modulated his strength carefully, holding Boarstaff's wrist with deliberate gentleness, aware of how easily hecould crush bone if he wasn't careful.
"But be careful," he continued, reluctant to break the contact. "The systems adapt when challenged. If they suspect betrayal..." He let the warning hang, unable to finish the thought of what might happen to Boarstaff if his father's defenses recognized the deception.
"We'll move with forest grace, not mechanical efficiency." Boarstaff's confidence carried no arrogance, just earned certainty in his warriors' abilities. "Your father's systems are designed to detect predictable patterns. We don't move in patterns."
Sebastian reluctantly released his hold, already missing the warmth of contact. "And the child? How will your warriors recognize her?"
"You said she carries a wooden doll," Boarstaff replied. "That she'll be the only one scheduled for transformation in the preparation chambers."
"Yes." Sebastian thought of his own wooden horse, lost centuries ago during his preparation for turning. The artificers had taken it, saying such attachments would interfere with his improvements. He'd never seen it again. "She'll be frightened. Confused. The preparation procedures are... disorienting. Tell your warriors, tell them to say Sebastian sent them. She'll remember me from the receiving chamber."
