Caged By the Lich

6. Olvaar

6

OLVAAR

I lean back in my chair, a cruel smile playing on my lips as I scan the reports spread before me. The chaos I've sown by taking Ilreth's precious human daughter is bearing fruit faster than I'd anticipated.

"Tell me again," I command. Malakai picks the paper up from the table, his scaled skin gleaming in the flickering torchlight as his eyes jump over it.

"Lord Ilreth's alliance is fracturing, my lord. The Vex'nar clan has already withdrawn their support, citing concerns about his... judgment." Beside Malakai, Kaz raises his brows. The Vex'nar have been notoriously supportive of Ilreth. It does come as a bit of a surprise. "The Morathi sisters are wavering, and whispers in the court suggest they'll follow suit by week's end."

I nod, satisfaction coursing through me. Ilreth's carefully constructed web of alliances, the very thing that's kept him just out of my reach for so long, is unraveling. And all it took was one human girl.

"What of the southern territories?" I ask, my eyes falling on the intricately detailed map sprawled across my war table.

Kaz points a taloned finger to a stretch of land bordering the Ashen Wastes. "With the Vex'nar clan's withdrawal, this area is now vulnerable. If we move quickly, we could secure a foothold before Ilreth can shore up his defenses."

I rise, circling the table slowly. The pieces are falling into place, a symphony of chaos conducted by my hand. "And the girl?" I can't help but ask, my thoughts drifting to my defiant captive.

"She remains... resistant, my lord," Kaz replies, a note of hesitation in his voice. "But her presence here continues to destabilize Ilreth's position. Many question his ability to protect his own family, let alone his allies."

I nod, a plan forming in my mind. "Prepare the Shadowclaw battalion," I order, my finger tracing a path across the map. "We'll strike at the heart of the Vex'nar clan's holdings. With their forces in disarray, we can crush them and claim their territory in one fell swoop."

Kaz bows low, his wings folding tightly against his back. "It will be done, Lord Olvaar."

As my underlings scurry to carry out my commands, I allow myself a moment of quiet triumph. Ilreth's downfall is at hand, and with it, my ascension to more power in the demon realm. And all thanks to one stubborn human girl.

One who is going to help me. Whether she likes it or not.

Alone, I stride purposefully towards Astrid's chambers, my footsteps echoing through the stone corridors. The guards snap to attention as I approach, fear flickering in their eyes. Good. Fear keeps them loyal.

"Leave us," I command, not bothering to look at them as they scurry away.

I enter without knocking, finding Astrid perched on the windowsill, her green-gold eyes fixed on the landscape beyond. It's mostly woods, a river cutting through the soft hills of my estate, the nearly black foliage standing out against the crimson sky. She doesn't turn to acknowledge me, her posture rigid with defiance.

"Enjoying the view?" I ask, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

She finally deigns to look at me, her lips curving into a mocking smile. "Oh yes, staring out at the back of the estate packed with dense trees and no sight is truly breathtaking. Your interior decorator must be a genius for planting this windowsill here for the gorgeous views that have been cultivated."

I clench my jaw, already feeling my patience wearing thin. "Enough games. I have questions, and you're going to answer them."

Astrid raises an eyebrow, her tone bored. "Am I now? How exciting for you."

I take a step closer, looming over her. Most would cower, but she meets my gaze unflinchingly. "Your father's alliances are crumbling. Tell me, which of his supporters does he rely on most?"

She pretends to consider, tapping her chin. "Hmm, let me think... Oh, I know! How about go fuck yourself?"

My hand shoots out, gripping her throat tightly. But I don't squeeze. Yet. "You insolent little?—"

"Careful," Astrid interrupts, her voice low and dangerous. "Wouldn't want to bruise your new favorite toy, would you?"

I ease my grip and cock my head, surprised by the venom in her words. "You're no toy. You're leverage."

She laughs, the sound bitter and sharp. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? Sorry to disappoint, but I don't know anything about my father's plans. I was too busy being his dirty little human secret."

Her words give me pause. There's pain there, buried beneath the anger. I file that information away for later. "You expect me to believe Ilreth kept you completely in the dark?"

Astrid rolls her eyes. "Believe whatever you want. I'm sure you will anyway."

Dropping my hand, I change tactics, closing in on her like she is my prey. My body certainly thinks she is, wanting to lean over her, crowd her, steal her air until I am the only thing she can have.

"What about his weaknesses?" My voice is rough as it scrapes out. "Surely you've noticed something in all your years under his roof."

She tips her head to stare up at me. I almost believe I have no effect on her, but her muscles are a touch too tense and her eyes are blown wide. "Other than his questionable taste in dinner guests?" Her gaze flicks down my frame with quick insinuation. "I'm afraid not."

Our verbal sparring continues, each barb more pointed than the last. I find myself grudgingly impressed by her quick wit, even as frustration builds within me. She's clever, this human, far more than I'd anticipated.

"You know," Astrid says, her tone deceptively casual, "for someone so feared, you're not very good at this whole interrogation thing."

I bare my teeth in a feral grin. "Perhaps I should resort to more... traditional methods."

She doesn't flinch, meeting my gaze with a fire that sends an unexpected thrill through me. "Go ahead," she challenges. "I'm sure torturing a human girl will do wonders for your reputation."

I lean in close, our faces mere inches apart. "Who said anything about torture? I have far more... creative ways of extracting information."

For the briefest moment, I see a flicker of something in her eyes—something that sets my body on fire.

But then she opens her mouth.

"I'm trembling with anticipation," she deadpans.

I pull back, realizing this approach is getting me nowhere. Maybe having her trembling beneath me would extract more information than this. Though Astrid is more resilient than I'd given her credit for, and I don't think she'd cave even as I edged her, denied her orgasm.

One I'd be desperate to give her.

Snarling — most because of my own wayward thoughts — I bare my teeth at her. She just drags her gaze back to the window.

"Fine." I turn away from her. "We'll occupy your time another way if you don't want to help me."

I storm through the halls of my fortress, my temper simmering just beneath the surface. That infuriating human girl thinks she can outsmart me? We'll see about that.

"Kaz!" I bark, and my second appears at my side instantly. "Bring the girl to the kitchens. Now."

Minutes later, Astrid is standing before me, her chin raised defiantly. I resist the urge to grab her and shake some sense into that pretty head of hers.

"If you don't want to answer my questions, then fine," I growl. "Instead, you'll be making yourself useful around here."

Her eyes narrow. "I'm not your maid."

"No," I agree, a cruel smile twisting my lips. "You're my prisoner. And you'll do as I say."

I assign her a list of tasks, watching with satisfaction as her face pales slightly. Good. Let her see what real work feels like.

But my satisfaction is short-lived. As the day progresses, reports of Astrid's "work" filter back to me, each one stoking my rage further.

First, it's my clothes. I pull on a freshly laundered shirt, only to find it so heavily starched it practically stands up on its own. The collar chafes against my neck, and I can barely move my arms. Furious, I rip it off, the sound of tearing fabric echoing through my chambers.

Next, it's dinner. I take a bite of the roast, only to nearly choke on the overwhelming saltiness. It's practically inedible, and I push the plate away in disgust.

"Bring me the girl," I snarl at a nearby servant.

Astrid appears, her face a mask of innocence. "Is something wrong with your meal, my lord?" she asks, her voice dripping with false concern.

I stand, looming over her. "You know damn well what's wrong. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

She blinks up at me. "Notice what? I followed the recipe exactly. Perhaps your tastes are just... delicate."

Before I can respond, there's a crash from the next room. We both turn to see one of my prized Ikothrian vases lying in pieces on the floor, Astrid's cleaning rag suspiciously close to the shelf it had been on before. The one it must have been on the edge of to suddenly teeter off.

"Uh-oh," she says, not sounding sorry in the least. "How odd."

I clench my fists, struggling to control my temper. She's doing this on purpose, pushing me to see how far she can go. And the worst part is, it's working. I'm furious, yes, but there's also a blooming need for me to fight back, to lose control, to make her bend and fuck that brat out of her.

I'm going to lose my godsdamned mind.