"It's the most efficient solution." Sebastian fell back on logic, on the cold calculations that had governed his existence for centuries. "One life risked rather than hundreds."
"Efficiency," Boarstaff repeated, the word heavy with meaning between them. "Is that all this is?"
Sebastian looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "I killed my brothers," he said finally, the words emerging with unexpected rawness. "The only beings I had ever truly—" He stopped, unable to complete the thought.
"And now you fear the same for me," Boarstaff finished for him, his voice gentler than it had been moments before. "You think your care is a death sentence."
Sebastian's head snapped up, surprised by the warchief's insight. "The statistical evidence suggests—"
"To hell with your statistics," Boarstaff interrupted, closing the distance between them in two long strides. "And to hell with your self-appointed martyrdom."
Before Sebastian could react, Boarstaff's hands were on his shoulders, grip firm enough that even Sebastian's strength couldn't easily break it. "You don't get to make this decision alone," the warchief said, his voice low and intense. "Not anymore."
"It's the logical choice," Sebastian insisted, though his conviction was wavering. "I know the citadel. I know Cornelius. I can reach him before he reaches us."
"And if you fail?" Boarstaff challenged. "If he captures you instead? Turns you against us? What then?"
The possibility sent a chill through Sebastian. He hadn't allowed himself to consider failure, only success or death. But Boarstaff was right. If Cornelius captured him alive, there were techniques, procedures that could override even Sebastian's transformed will. He could become the very weapon used to destroy everything he now sought to protect.
"I would rather die than be used against you," Sebastian muttered.
"And I would rather fight at your side than wonder if you died alone," Boarstaff countered, his grip softening slightly. "We do this together, Sebastian. All of us. The village, the desert clan, the dwarves. And you."
"I can't be responsible for your death," he admitted, the words torn from him. "I can't watch him kill you. I can't—"
His voice broke, and with it, his composure. Sebastian's hands came up to grip Boarstaff's arms, no longer pushing him away but holding on as if the warchief were an anchor in a storm. "I have never cared for anyone as I care for you," he confessed, the words barely audible. "And it terrifies me."
Boarstaff pulled him closer, moving one hand to the back of Sebastian's neck, fingers threading through his hair beneath the warrior braids. "Then you understand how I feel watching you plan your suicide mission."
The last barrier between them crumbled. Boarstaff closed the final inches between them, his mouth finding Sebastian's with desperate intensity.
Sebastian responded immediately, centuries of careful control abandoned as he pressed against Boarstaff, the weapons he'd so carefully selected now crushed between them. The kiss was fierce, almost bruising, an affirmation of life in the shadow of potential death.
Someone could walk in at any moment. They were in the settlement's armory with a battle approaching and people everywhere. It was reckless, dangerous. Neither of them cared.
When they finally broke apart, Boarstaff kept his forehead pressed against Sebastian's, fingers still tangled in his hair. They stood that way for a long moment, breathing the same air. Sebastian felt stripped bare, exposed in a way that had nothing to do with physical vulnerability. He had revealed a weakness Cornelius would have eliminated without hesitation, a flaw in the perfect weapon he had been designed to be.
Yet Boarstaff held him tighter for it.
"We fight together," Boarstaff said finally, his voice a low rumble against Sebastian's chest. "Always. Or we might as well die right now."
His eyes held Sebastian's with fierce intensity. "And when we get through this… when we survive this… I will love you openly. The rest of my people be damned. I will not hide what I feel for you any longer."
The declaration hung between them, as significant as any battle vow. Sebastian had never expected such words, had never allowed himself to imagine a future where what existed between them could be acknowledged beyond stolen moments and careful distance.
"They may not accept it," Sebastian warned softly.
"Then they will learn to," Boarstaff replied with the simple certainty of a leader who had earned his position through both strength and wisdom. "Or they will find another warchief."
Sebastian closed his eyes, allowing himself to absorb the warchief's warmth, his strength, his unwavering certainty. It was inefficient, illogical, contrary to everything his training had taught him about optimal strategy.
And he found he didn't care.
"I still think a direct strike against Cornelius is our best chance," Sebastian said after a moment. "But not alone. Not anymore."
Boarstaff shook his head firmly. "No. Not even with others. I won't risk you that way."
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "That's not a tactical decision. That's emotional."
