Page 11 of Claimed By the Alien Prince

CARYS

I wake to the softness of silk against my skin, the sheets wrapping around me like a gentle embrace.

For a fleeting moment, I revel in this luxurious cocoon, imagining myself as a queen surveying her kingdom.

The bed is lavish, the kind of comfort I never thought I'd find on an alien world.

Sunlight filters through translucent panels, casting dappled patterns on the floor—a reminder of the forest outside.

If only I weren’t trapped in this palace.

With a reluctant sigh, I peel myself from the sheets, dragging my feet to the edge of the bed. Reality rushes back like cold water. This isn’t a dream home; it’s gilded captivity.

As I step onto the cool floor, my stomach growls, reminding me of another unpleasant truth: hunger. I shuffle toward the door and pause when I catch sight of breakfast laid out on a low table—my breakfast has been served again. Beside it, folded garb—a change of clothes.

But it’s not just food and an outfit.

My research gear sits neatly arranged beside Todd, who buzzes softly in place, his green sensor eye blinking erratically as if he’s been waiting for me to wake up forever. Relief floods me. The prince kept his word.

“Hey there,” I murmur as I kneel beside him. My fingers brush over his smooth surface; he responds with a cheerful little whir before twitching to life fully.

“Carys!” he chirps in his synthetic voice, almost bouncing with excitement despite his usual jitters. “You’re awake! You’re awake!”

“Yeah,” I chuckle softly, feeling warmth seep into my chest at his enthusiasm. “Guess I am.”

I grab a piece of meat—the same thing they've been feeding me. But today it tastes better. Or maybe it's the company.

I smile despite everything swirling inside me—the fear and uncertainty about what comes next after yesterday’s chaotic confrontation with Zevran. But right now? Right now feels good.

"Never thought I'd see any of this again," I murmur, sifting through my bag and flipping through my notes.

“Todd wants to explore!” He flits around me like an eager puppy, his little appendages twitching in anticipation.

“Woah there, slow down,” I say, heart quickening at the prospect of new adventures just outside these ornate walls. “You just got back. Let's focus on studying what we were cataloging before.”

I rummage through my gear, heart racing as a sudden idea sparks to life.

“Todd,” I say, excitement bubbling up. “Can you connect to the CRC database?”

“Of course! Todd is always connected!” he responds, his voice chipper.

“Good! We need to send a message—something like, ‘Help! I’m trapped in an alien palace with a prince who thinks I’m a parasite.’”

“Message sent!” he chirps, and I can practically hear the gears turning in his tiny frame.

I hold my breath. If Todd can reach the CRC, maybe they’ll dispatch someone to negotiate my release. The thought makes me giddy. A rescue mission—what an adventure!

But the moment stretches on, the air thickening with anticipation. My heart sinks as Todd’s sensor eye flickers erratically.

“Uh-oh,” he stammers. “Todd can’t send message.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” I snap, frustration boiling over. “You’re supposed to be able to do this!”

“The bad Kiphians disabled outgoing communications,” he whines, spinning in place like a distressed pup. “Only incoming allowed.”

Typical.

“Great.” I sink onto the plush floor, head spinning with disappointment and anger. Just when I think there’s a glimmer of hope, it fizzles out like an ember without fuel. “So what now? We just sit here until they decide to toss me back into the trees?”

Todd hovers closer, his sensor eye wide with concern. “Maybe we find another way?”

I groan, leaning back against the wall and staring at the ceiling that feels miles above me. Each bright spot of light that filters through is a reminder of freedom slipping away.

“Sure, let’s just dig our way out,” I mutter sarcastically.

I shake off the weight of disappointment and dive into my research. The Kiphians may have stripped me of my freedom, but they can’t take away my passion for xenoflora. I spread out my equipment on the soft mossy floor, each tool a comforting reminder of Earth.

“Okay, Todd,” I say, my fingers gliding over the familiar shapes of vials and data tablets. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He buzzes excitedly, hovering above my workbench like a tiny sun. “Todd stored all the best samples! Holograms ready!”

“Show me!” I urge, heart racing at the thought of what we might have collected before everything spiraled out of control.

With a whirr and a flicker, Todd projects shimmering holograms into the air.

Vivid images of glowing fungi dance before me—brilliant blues and greens pulse rhythmically, reminding me of heartbeat rhythms in an alien symphony.

I lean closer, tracing my fingers through the holographic light as if I could touch the very essence of this strange world.

“Can you analyze their bioluminescence patterns?” I ask, intrigued by how they might adapt to their environment.

“Analyzing now!” Todd responds eagerly, his single green eye flashing with excitement as he computes data at lightning speed.

While he works, I pull out small samples stored safely within his casing—tiny vials filled with iridescent spores and bits of bark from the crystal-barked tree where they found me. Each one represents hours spent in search of knowledge, and I refuse to let them go to waste.

“Todd,” I murmur as I prepare a slide for microscopic examination. “What do you think? Will these be enough for the CRC report?”

“Definitely! But maybe humans should be more careful next time?” He spins in mid-air, mimicking caution with his small robotic arms. “Don’t want to get caught again!”

I laugh softly; his nervous energy is infectious. “No kidding.”

Hours pass as we dive deeper into our work. The tension fades under the steady rhythm of research—the banter between us fills the silence like music in an empty room. Todd’s presence makes this place feel less like a gilded cage and more like a temporary lab.

Just as I finish documenting notes about one particularly mesmerizing spore sample, there’s a rustle at the door behind me. My heart skips when something slides beneath it—a note.

I glance at Todd; he hovers closer to inspect it too.

“What does it say?” he asks nervously.

I crawl over to pick it up, unfolding it carefully under Todd’s watchful gaze:

I know how to get you out.