Page 51 of Captive
"Why should her fate matter more than any other?" Boarstaff wanted to understand what drove Sebastian's urgency.
Sebastian's gaze dropped to the floor. "Her doll. The wooden one she carried the last time I saw her." His voice grew softer. "I had one, too. Before they took me. Before they started carving me into what they needed me to be."
The admission hung between them, a rare glimpse of vulnerability from the vampire noble. A connection to humanity Sebastian had been taught to despise and overcome.
Boarstaff turned to leave, though he wanted to stay and offer some comfort. "We'll discuss terms when your intelligence proves true."
He felt Sebastian's gaze follow him up the worn steps, tracking his departure just as he had tracked Oakspear's earlier. But the vampire’s watching held nothing simple in its intent. Nothing uncomplicated in its need.
Dawn approached, carrying possibilities neither of them had imagined when night began.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Heart Tree's council chamber hummed with tension as Boarstaff entered. Eleven carved seats were arranged in a circle, eleven faces turned toward him with expressions ranging from concern to outright hostility. Crystalline formations embedded in the living walls cast shifting patterns across the worn wood table at the chamber's center.
"You propose to risk our warriors on the word of a vampire noble," Thornmaker said, his hands resting on points marking their territory's boundaries. "The heir to House de la Sang itself."
It wasn't a question, but Boarstaff answered it anyway. "I propose to act on intelligence that could give us unprecedented access to vampire territory."
"Verified intelligence?" Moonsinger asked, her voice carrying decades of wisdom. "Or merely what the prisoner wishes us to believe?"
Boarstaff had expected resistance. Had prepared for it. What he hadn't prepared for was how his pulse quickened whenever Sebastian was mentioned, or how his hand remembered the feel of skin beneath his fingers.
"Given his position, he would know their patrol patterns. Guard rotations. Defensive weaknesses." He kept his voice level, his stance steady. A warchief showing doubt now would doom the mission before it began. "And he's mentioned a human child awaiting the same fate he once suffered."
"How convenient," Rockbreaker's deep voice rumbled from his place at the far side of the circle. "That he knows exactly what would motivate us to action."
Every failed raid, every lost scout, every body displayed at theirborders as a warning was a burden Boarstaff had carried for years and standing there in the council chamber, the weight was heavier than ever.
"Redmoon Village," someone said quietly. "Thirty warriors. None returned."
"The northern passes," another added. "Seventeen of our best. Found displayed at the boundary markers."
"The river crossing. Twenty-three dead."
Names and numbers. Failures and losses. Each one etched into their collective memory, each one a reason to distrust anything a vampire offered.
"I haven't forgotten our dead," Boarstaff said firmly. "But Sebastian's intelligence could be valuable."
"Sebastian?" Thornmaker caught the name immediately. "Not 'the prisoner' anymore?"
Heat rose in Boarstaff's chest, but he kept his expression neutral. "His name is Sebastian. Using it changes nothing about what he is or the danger he represents."
"Doesn't it?" Moonsinger studied him with unsettling perception. "You've spent more time in those chambers than any warchief before you. Watched his evolution more closely than our texts have ever recorded."
The implied question hung in the chamber's stillness. What grows between you and this prisoner?
"If his information proves accurate," Boarstaff replied, focusing on facts rather than the feelings he wasn't ready to name, "we could strike at the heart of their power."
"And you believe this changes his nature?" Rockbreaker asked. "Makes him worthy of trust?"
"I believe it changes what's possible," Boarstaff moved to the tactical map, drawing their attention away from his personal involvement. "If his information proves accurate, we could strike at the improvement chambers themselves."
"For what purpose?" Thornmaker challenged. "To rescue one human child? Is that worth risking our warriors?"
The question cut deep. Boarstaff knew the spearmaster's history, how he'd lost his twin daughters during a vampire raid fifteen yearsearlier. Since that day, Thornmaker had never wavered in his hatred.
"To strike at the technology that transforms humans into their kind, piece by piece," Boarstaff answered. "Sebastian's intelligence could give us our first real chance to cripple their ability to create more of their kind."
