Caged By the Lich

13. Astrid

13

ASTRID

I lean over the sprawling map, my eyes darting between the colored markers and the stack of reports at my elbow. V's presence looms beside me, his ethereal blue skin catching the candlelight as he gestures to a cluster of villages near the border.

"The lords did not waste any time," he murmurs. "We need to contain this."

I nod, chewing my bottom lip as I consider our options. It's been a few weeks of V letting me look over his daily reports with him. "What if we redirect some of the guard patrols from here?" I point at the map. "It's been quiet there for months."

V's eyes flicker to mine, a spark of approval in their depths. "Good thinking. But we'll need to maintain a presence to deter thieves."

"Split the unit," I suggest, reaching for a quill. "Half to quell the unrest, half to continue patrols. We can rotate them weekly to prevent fatigue."

A slow smile spreads across V's face, transforming his features. For a moment, I forget to breathe. It's a miracle I've kept my hands to myself…

And not begged for the punishment he offered.

"Clever girl," he purrs, and I hate the way my stomach flips at the praise. "Draft the orders. I want them ready by nightfall."

We work in tandem, pouring over intelligence reports and supply manifests. V's mind is a steel trap, recalling minute details from months-old meetings and weaving them into our strategies. I find myself racing to keep up, my own thoughts sparking and building off his ideas.

"If we reroute through here," V muses, tracing a path with his finger, "we can avoid the affected areas entirely."

I frown, considering the logistics. "We'd need to hire additional guards, maybe even some weather mages with the unpredictability this time of year."

V nods, already scribbling notes. "Good point. Make it happen."

And we spend all day like that. Most of it, I find myself staring at the demon that I can't bring myself to hate…or be angry at. The only thing I can feel is this need, my body practically begging to ride him every time he turns and looks at me.

It's…intense.

It's why I've helped bury myself in his work. I guess I like playing with fire because I can't distance myself but I also don't want to get burned.

"Astrid?" His eyes swirl, and his head cocks as he assesses me. I didn't even realize I was staring.

But I can't voice what I was thinking, so I just jerk my eyes back to the maps on the table before us. Soon he joins back in, and I can't help but feel a thrill of excitement as we piece together our strategy. It's exhilarating, this back-and-forth of ideas, the way our minds seem to sync up and build off each other.

"What if we..." I start, reaching for a marker.

V's hand brushes mine as he goes for the same piece. When we touch, I feel a jolt of electricity shoot up my arm, and I freeze, suddenly hyperaware of how close we are. I can smell the faint scent of spice and earth that clings to him, feel the heat radiating off his body.

I jerk back, my heart pounding. What am I doing?

The reality of my situation crashes over me like a bucket of ice water. This isn't a friendly strategy session. I'm not V's equal or his partner. I'm his prisoner, a pawn in his political games. The fact that I'd forgotten that, even for a moment, fills me with shame and self-loathing.

But I'm not sure if it's my own insanity — my own want for my captor — that is keeping me away anymore. Because every time we've gotten close to anything, he has pulled back.

It might be the rejection that's keeping me away. And I can't even begin to process what that means.

V raises an eyebrow at my sudden movement. "Everything alright, little rebel?"

I force a tight smile, hating the way his pet name for me only further confuses my mind. Why do I like it? Why does it hurt that he uses it and yet I seem to still mean nothing to him?

"Fine." I huff. "Just... tired, I guess."

He studies me for a long moment, his ever-changing eyes unreadable. I resist the urge to squirm under his gaze, lifting my chin defiantly instead.

"Perhaps we should call it a night," V says finally, leaning back. "You've done good work today, Astrid."

The praise shouldn't please me. It shouldn't matter what this demon thinks of me or my abilities. But I can't deny the warm glow of satisfaction that blooms in my chest at his words.

And that terrifies me more than anything else.

I clear my throat, trying to shake off the uncomfortable tension that's settled between us. "Or maybe we should eat," I suggest, my stomach growling as if on cue. "We did skip dinner."

V looks up, seeming almost surprised by the suggestion. "I guess we did. I didn't realize," he admits, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I suppose even demon lords need sustenance occasionally."

I can't help but smirk at that. "Well, we can't have you wasting away. How about dinner?"

To my surprise, V nods. "Why not? Have the kitchens bring something up."

Before I know it, we're seated at a small table in the corner of his study, plates piled high with roasted meats and vegetables. The rich aroma fills the air, making my mouth water.

"So," V says, cutting into a piece of meat, "tell me more about your idea for restructuring the border patrols."

And just like that, we're back to strategizing. But this time, it feels different. The formal atmosphere has melted away, replaced by something more... comfortable. We trade ideas between bites, our conversation flowing easily.

As we discuss the logistics, I find myself relaxing. The food is delicious, the conversation stimulating, and for a moment, I almost forget the circumstances that brought me here.

V makes a dry comment about one of his more incompetent underlings, and I can't help but laugh. The sound seems to surprise us both, and V's eyes widen slightly before his lips curve into a genuine smile.

"You know," he says, leaning back in his chair, "I don't think I've ever heard you laugh before."

I shrug, suddenly self-conscious. "Well, there hasn't been much to laugh about lately."

V's expression softens, just for a moment. "No, I suppose not."

We fall into a companionable silence, the only sounds the clink of cutlery against plates. I find myself studying V, noticing the way the candlelight plays across his features, softening the harsh lines of his face.

It's strange how natural this feels. Sharing a meal, trading ideas and even jokes. For a moment, I can almost pretend we're just two people enjoying each other's company, not captor and captive.

But as I reach for my glass, my eyes catch on the magical wards shimmering faintly around the room, and reality comes crashing back. This isn't normal. This isn't right. I can't let myself forget who V really is, no matter how charming he can be.

I feel V's gaze on me, heavy and intense. When I look up, I'm startled to see his expression has softened. He's still every inch the terrifying demon lord, but there's something different in his eyes now. A flicker of... concern?

"Do you miss it?" he asks, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. And I wonder if he could see what I was thinking. "Being at home?"

The question catches me off guard. I pause, considering my answer carefully. "I miss Athena," I admit, thinking of my sister's warm smile and comforting presence. "But..."

I trail off, surprised by the realization forming in my mind. V waits patiently, giving me space to gather my thoughts.

"But I'm starting to see now that I didn't have much purpose there," I continue slowly. "I was just... existing. Playing the part of Father's perfect human daughter, never really belonging."

The words feel like a betrayal as they leave my mouth, but I can't deny their truth. Here, working alongside V, I've felt more alive and engaged than I ever did in my father's gilded cage.

The air between us feels charged suddenly, crackling with an energy I can't quite name. I look up, meeting V's gaze. His eyes are swirling pools of color, drawing me in.

Before I can think better of it, I hear myself saying, "Maybe... maybe your company isn't so bad after all."

V's lips curve into a smile – a real one, not his usual smirk. It transforms his face, making him look younger, almost boyish. My breath catches in my throat.

"Is that so, little rebel?" he murmurs, leaning in slightly.

And when my heart stutters, longing for him along with my body, I freeze.

Because when did this lust start to form into something more?