Page 21 of Claimed By the Alien Prince

CARYS

I ’ve been pacing this damn room for hours.

The soft moss beneath my feet is far too inviting, but I can’t settle.

Zevran hasn’t come back since last night, and my mind spirals with what might have happened.

Did I push him too far? Is he regretting our…

moment? I shake the thought away like a wet dog, frustration simmering just below the surface.

A soft thud draws my attention. Something slides under the door—a folded note. I dart over and snatch it up, heart racing as I read: “It’s time.”

The door clicks open before I can process it. Adrenaline surges through me as I slip outside, barely daring to breathe.

A boy stands there, no older than ten. His wild dark hair fluffs around his head like a cloud, and his mischievous eyes sparkle with a familiar glint that instantly reminds me of Zevran.

“Oswin?”

He nods, flashing a grin that makes me wary but hopeful all at once. “I’m here to help you escape.”

I blink at him, incredulity mixing with excitement. “Escape? But how?”

“No time,” he says, glancing down the hall with urgency. “Follow me!”

My pulse quickens as we hurry through the corridor. The palace looms around us—grand arches and twisting vines woven into the architecture. My stomach twists; this place feels like a gilded cage.

“Wait,” I say suddenly, an idea sparking in my mind. “We’re passing the gardens! Todd needs to sample some flora before we go.”

Oswin groans, tugging on my arm as he pulls me toward the exit. “We really don’t have time for that!”

“It’ll just take a second!”

I call out for Todd, who whirs to life from my pocket and buzzes above us with his single green eye blinking furiously.

“Carys?” he chirps in his usual jittery tone.

“Todd! We’re escaping! But first?—”

Oswin cuts in, exasperated but resigned. “Just a minute then! Make it quick!”

I watch as Todd hovers close to some glowing ferns swaying gently in an unseen breeze beneath the canopy of trees. He reaches out with his retractable appendages, scanning their bioluminescent properties while Oswin drums his fingers impatiently against his thigh.

“Did you find anything interesting?” I ask Todd as he sends a flurry of data back to my tablet.

“Yes! Glowing pigments—molecular structure is unlike anything catalogued before! High potential for bio-luminescent applications!” His excitement radiates through me even amid this chaos.

“That’s great! But we really need to?—”

A loud crash echoes somewhere in the palace—a reminder of how precarious our situation is.

“Now!” Oswin hisses.

Todd darts toward me, buzzing frantically as if sensing our urgency.

I grab his tiny frame and tuck him back into my pocket, moving quickly alongside Oswin as he leads me through the gardens.

I keep pace with Oswin, adrenaline coursing through me like a river after a storm.

Every creak of the palace seems magnified, every shadow a potential threat.

My heart thuds as we approach an archway leading out of the gardens.

Freedom feels so close I can almost taste it—until we run straight into a wall of muscle and sharp eyes.

“Stop right there!”

Two guards block our path, their expressions hard as stone. Panic floods my veins. I glance at Oswin, who looks equally terrified, but before either of us can react, they seize us by our arms.

“Let go!” I shout, squirming in their grip.

Oswin struggles too, his voice high-pitched. “Let her go! Don't hurt her!”

But they drag us back into the depths of the palace, past the lush greenery and vibrant colors that had felt so enchanting just moments ago.

Now it all blurs together as dread gnaws at my stomach.

They shove us through heavy doors into a dimly lit study lined with shelves of intricate books and strange artifacts.

I breathe in the scent of polished wood and something sweet—maybe incense? But it does little to soothe my racing heart. Where is Zevran? What will he say? My mind spins with scenarios, each worse than the last. He's going to hate me.

The guards leave us alone in the study, but my relief is short-lived. A tall Kiphian woman stands near the large window, her sharp features framed by thick hair woven with metallic threads that glimmer in the soft light. She turns toward us, pale rose-gold eyes assessing.

“Well,” she states coolly before pinching her nose as if bracing for an inevitable headache.

My throat tightens.

“What were you two thinking?” she scolds gently yet firmly, like a teacher addressing unruly students. “You’re both lucky you weren’t caught in more dangerous territory.”

Oswin opens his mouth to protest but shuts it quickly under her glare. I can’t help but admire how she carries herself—graceful yet commanding—like she could cut through tension with just a look.

“Get back to your room, little prince,” she instructs Oswin without taking her eyes off me. He hesitates but then scurries out of the room as if sensing this isn’t a conversation for him.

Prince? As in… Zevran's brother?

Once we’re alone, she studies me closely. "You must be Carys. I am Aran'tha, Advisor to the throne, cousin to the prince himself."

I stare at her, unblinking.

“You’re bolder than I expected,” she says finally, her voice steady but laced with an edge of warning. “I won’t tell Zevran about your little escapade.”

A wave of relief washes over me—at least for now—but uncertainty remains tangled in my chest.

“But don’t make me regret it.” Her tone sharpens slightly, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

I nod quickly; words jumble in my head like errant leaves on a windy day. “I didn’t mean any harm,” I manage to stammer out. “I just?—”

“Of course you didn't.” She cuts me off with an amused smirk that softens her earlier severity slightly. “Curiosity runs rampant in humans.”

“Right.” My cheeks heat under her scrutiny; she knows exactly how out of place I am here.

Aran’tha leans against the desk behind her, arms crossed as if preparing for a long conversation rather than reprimanding me. “Zevran is... complicated,” she admits slowly, considering her words carefully like they’re delicate seeds she’s unsure will take root.

“I can imagine.” My voice comes out sharper than intended; frustration bubbles just beneath my skin.

“He has been raised to protect our kingdom above all else,” she continues as if not hearing my interjection. “And now… now he faces something entirely foreign.” Her gaze meets mine head-on—a challenge wrapped in empathy.

My pulse quickens again at the implication behind her words; every instinct tells me not to push further or question what those words might mean for me or Zevran.

“I’m not here to threaten anyone,” I say softly instead, trying to bridge this chasm between us—the Kiphian elite and an intruding human botanist seeking knowledge among them. "I didn't even want to be here in the first place."

Aran’tha nods slowly, considering me once more before breaking into a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Good luck sticking to that.”