Page 18 of Caged By the Lich

"Your grasp of our laws is impressive," I concede, moving closer. "Tell me, what other insights have you gleaned from your... studies?"

Astrid rises, meeting my gaze without flinching. "Enough to know that you don't need my father's payment. You needed him out of the way to get to the southern territories." She watches me with assessing eyes. "There's something there more valuable than money he could scrape together. Something you want before the Vex'nar clan finds out."

My jaw clenches. How had she pieced that together? I'd been careful. Yet here she stands, laying out my vulnerabilities as if reading from an open book.

"You're playing a dangerous game, little human," I growl, closing the distance between us.

She doesn't back down. "I'm not playing. I'm surviving. And right now, survival means understanding the political landscape I've been thrust into."

I study her face, searching for weakness, for fear. I find none. Instead, I see a keen intelligence, a fire that refuses to be extinguished. It's getting harder and harder to remember she is supposed to be a little pawn I've chosen to keep.

Especially when she bites down on her lower lip and all I want is her tied to my bed.

"Perhaps," I say slowly, "we've been underestimating each other."

I thought about Astrid the rest of the day yesterday. I couldn't stop myself, wondering what else she noticed that no one else had. And then, I decided to test the clever girl.

I arrange the documents carefully on my desk, ensuring they appear casually strewn rather than deliberately placed. Intelligence reports, troop movements, financial ledgers - all meticulously crafted to paint a specific picture. Let's see how our little rebel interprets the breadcrumbs I'm leaving.

Settling into my study's hidden alcove, I activate the scrying orb. The crystalline sphere flickers to life, revealing Astrid as she enters my office, feather duster in hand. Her movements are deliberate, efficient. She's learned the routines well.

At first, she barely glances at the desk. Smart girl. But as she works her way around the room, I notice her eyes darting back to the papers. Curiosity wars with caution on her face.

Finally, she approaches the desk. Her fingers hover over the documents, hesitating. I lean forward, intrigued by her internal struggle. Will she take the bait?

Astrid bites her lip, a habit I've come to recognize as a sign of her deep concentration. Then, with a quick glance at the door, she begins to read.

Her eyes widen as she scans the first page. It's a report detailing the southern territory's defenses - or rather, the fabricated weaknesses I want her to see. She moves to the next document, a financial statement showing massive expenditures on mercenaries.

I watch her brow furrow, her clever mind no doubt piecing together the implications. She's quick, I'll give her that. But can she see beyond the surface?

Astrid pauses, glancing at the door again. She's weighing the risk of lingering too long. But her thirst for knowledge wins out.She delves deeper into the papers, her fingers tracing lines of text as if to absorb the information through her skin.

I find myself leaning closer to the orb, captivated by the play of emotions across her face. Shock, concern, then a flash of something else - determination? She's formulating a plan, I realize. But for what? To escape? To sabotage?

Then, she does something unexpected. Astrid reaches for a quill and begins to write.

My breath catches. This wasn't part of the plan. I lean closer to the scrying orb, heart pounding with a mixture of anger and curiosity. How dare she deface my documents? Yet... what insights could this clever little human possibly offer?

I watch as she scribbles furiously in the margins, her handwriting neat despite her haste. She pauses occasionally, brow furrowed in concentration, before diving back in. It's clear she's not just making random notes – there's a method to her madness.

When she finally finishes and slips out of the room, I waste no time. I stride into my study, barely remembering to deactivate the scrying spell in my eagerness to see what she's written.

The first note catches me off guard.

Troop movements leave eastern flank exposed. Redirect cavalry?

It's a valid point, one I'd overlooked in my focus on the southern push. I frown, reassessing my strategy — well, it's fake. I have to remind myself that. I couldn't give her real details.

I keep reading until I find another comment.

Financial strain evident. Consider local resource acquisition to offset mercenary costs?

Again, astute. She's picked up on the economic pressure this campaign is causing, and it's actually…something I could consider.

As I pore over her notes, a grudging respect begins to bloom. Astrid hasn't just regurgitated information – she's synthesized it, offering fresh perspectives I hadn't considered. Her outsider status, which I'd previously seen as a weakness, has become an asset. She's spotting patterns and connections that my advisors, steeped in demon politics, have missed.

One particular comment makes me pause.

---