Page 16 of Claimed By the Alien Prince

ZEVRAN

I walk the halls like a man possessed. Carys's taste lingers on my lips, intoxicating and maddening all at once. My heart pounds against my ribcage as I push through the ornate double doors into the council room. Silence hangs heavy in the air, a taut string ready to snap.

Elders sit in their elevated seats, faces lined with years of wisdom and disdain. The flickering light from the bioluminescent sconces casts shadows across their features, revealing the stark contrast between their age and my youth.

An elder rises—a wiry figure draped in robes that rustle like autumn leaves. “The court is aware of your… mate.” His voice carries a weight that crushes me from within.

Murmurs ripple through the chamber like wind through trees.

Some voices are hushed whispers of support, eyes gleaming with opportunistic delight; they see an alliance forged between our kingdoms. Others roar with indignation, faces twisted in disgust as they brandish words like swords: “Impure bonding!” They spit it out as if the very idea sickens them.

I clench my fists at my sides, knuckles whitening beneath the tension. Blood rushes to my head, hot and furious. My pulse quickens—not just from anger but from something deeper, something I’ve fought against tooth and nail since I first felt her presence tugging at me.

“This bond—this Jalshagar—is not what it seems,” I grit out, voice steady despite the tempest raging inside me.

“Really?” One noble sneers, his voice dripping with contempt. “You think we don't know what this is? A sham! A human trick!”

Their words cut deeper than any blade ever could. I want to draw blood—want to silence them all with a show of power that proves I’m not afraid of what I feel or who she is.

But then there’s Carys—her eyes wide with wonder and confusion after that kiss, her warmth seeping into my skin even now. The bond is stronger than it has ever been since we touched; it pulls at me relentlessly, weaving its way into every corner of my mind.

The council pushes forward, but all I hear is the echo of our shared moment—the way her breath hitched when I pressed against her, how her body responded to mine as if it had always known what to do.

“We should be looking for ways to unite,” one elder offers cautiously, cutting through the rising tension. “Think of the potential! A Kiphian prince bonded to a human—think of trade alliances!”

His words hang in the air, heavy with possibility yet bitterly tainted by prejudice. Other nobles scoff at his suggestion; their disapproval forms an invisible wall around me—a barrier between my duty and what my heart now screams for.

“How can you condone such degradation?” another elder roars back, slamming his fist onto the table with enough force that papers scatter like leaves caught in a gust. “It undermines everything we stand for!”

“Everything you stand for?” I challenge him coldly. “Or everything you fear? You fear change.”

They shift uneasily under my gaze; some fidget while others avert their eyes altogether—cowards hidden behind layers of tradition and antiquity.

“It will weaken our kingdom!” one noble shouts, standing tall yet trembling beneath the weight of his conviction.

Their mutterings rise again—a cacophony drowning out reason as fear takes hold once more.

But deep inside me lies something different—a flicker of defiance igniting against all odds that promises something greater than just survival: unity born from acceptance instead of rejection.

With Carys’s essence still lingering in every breath I take, I realize she might be my only chance to redefine everything—to pull Verus out from its shackles while finding purpose beyond duty alone.

The Queen rises slowly, her regal presence commanding the attention of every noble in the chamber.

Silence blankets the room like a heavy fog, their whispers snuffed out as if someone has put a lid on a boiling pot.

She surveys us with keen eyes that seem to pierce through the veils of deceit and cowardice, each breath she takes steady and measured.

“Jalshagar is sacred.” Her voice slices through the tension like a knife, crisp and clear. I feel the reality of her words settle over me, thickening the air. “The girl remains.”

Gasps ripple across the council. Even I struggle to process her decree. My heart quickens, anticipation mixing with dread as I prepare for her next words.

“The choice is the Prince’s.”

Her gaze locks onto mine, unyielding and fierce.

I bow my head, heart pounding in my chest, already feeling the gravity of what I've decided. The council may see this as an opportunity to criticize or challenge me, but they can’t understand what it means to be tied by fate—to have an invisible thread binding me to Carys.

They chatter again, some fuming over her proclamation while others murmur their agreement under their breath. The old men of the court shake their heads in disbelief, anger flashing across their lined faces.

I want to shout that this isn’t just about politics or trade; it’s about something deeper—an instinct that pulses within me like a heartbeat. Carys ignites something in me I thought was long buried beneath layers of duty and expectation.

But no one can know yet—not yet.

I steel myself against their glances as they assess my reaction. Their gazes weigh heavy upon my shoulders like boulders ready to crush me under their judgment. I’m still expected to act as if nothing has changed when everything has shifted irreparably.

I look up at my mother—my Queen—and find a flicker of understanding reflected back at me in her eyes. Perhaps she senses what I’ve felt since our first touch—change is on the horizon.