Page 26 of Claimed By the Alien Prince
ZEVRAN
I stride toward Carys’s room, my heart racing. The weight of anger and confusion twists in my chest. I have to make this right; I need her to understand that I would never turn against her. But as I approach the door, something feels off.
It swings open with a creak, revealing an empty space. The bed is undisturbed, her belongings strewn across the table like scattered thoughts. My breath catches, a cold knot tightening in my throat.
“Carys!” I call out, voice reverberating against the walls. Silence answers me back.
A sudden rush of panic courses through my veins. She can’t be gone—she must be here! I step inside, scanning every corner with a desperate intensity that surprises even me. The remnants of our last encounter linger in the air; they mock me now.
The scent of her—earthy and sweet—mingles with something else, something sharp and bitter that twists my gut.
“Carys!” My voice rises again, echoing through the halls like a storm warning.
I pivot on my heel and sprint down the corridor, adrenaline pumping through me like wildfire. “Guards!” I shout, urgency spilling from my lips. They materialize from shadows like specters responding to a summoning.
“Your Highness?” One steps forward, confusion etched on his face.
“Where is she?” I bark out the question before he can even finish his bow. “Find Carys! Now!”
He nods quickly but hesitates for just a heartbeat too long. “But?—”
“No excuses!” My fury crackles through the air between us. “If anyone has laid a hand on her?—”
The words catch in my throat as visions of harm swirl in my mind: her eyes wide with fear, her hands trembling against those who would dare touch her. I don’t allow myself to finish the thought.
“She needs to be found at any cost,” I order sharply, glancing at each guard’s face for signs of comprehension—or worse yet, disbelief.
They nod in unison now, urgency igniting their expressions as they scatter down different corridors.
As they rush away, a quiet promise forms in my mind: If anyone hurts her… if anyone lays so much as a finger upon her skin… it will cost them their life.
The throne room feels cavernous, shadows clinging to the walls like dark memories.
I pace the polished floor, each step echoing my anxiety.
Hours slip away, and with every passing minute, my impatience grows heavier, a weight I can’t shake.
I try to force myself to sit on the throne, but the moment I do, restlessness surges through me like a wildfire.
I spring back up and resume my frantic pacing. The gilded decorations blur around me—symbols of power that feel utterly meaningless right now. All that matters is Carys.
The doors swing open with a creak, and Aran’tha steps inside, her expression unreadable.
“Carys?” I ask, my voice tinged with hope.
She shakes her head slowly. “No sign yet, cousin. But soon, I’m sure.”
A sharp breath escapes me as dread coils in my gut. “If anyone has harmed a single hair on her head…” The thought freezes in my throat; it’s too painful to contemplate.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Aran’tha reassures me, though her eyes betray her own uncertainty.
I want to argue; I want to shout that she can’t possibly know that. Instead, I nod curtly and attempt to swallow down the tightness in my chest.
“Zevran,” she tries again gently, “you should eat something.” She gestures toward a platter of food set aside on a low table.
“I have no appetite.” The words snap out before I can temper them with kindness.
“Your strength matters too,” she insists softly.
But what good is strength without Carys? I ignore her plea and return to pacing once more.
Minutes stretch into eternity until the heavy doors swing open again. Guards shove Oswin forward like a rag doll—his small frame stumbling against their grip.
“What is this?” I demand, fury flaring as they drag him into the room by his arm. “Why are you dragging my brother?”
“The young prince was seen helping the human escape, Your Highness,” one guard reports flatly.
Oswin glares defiantly at the guards but holds my gaze. “I wasn’t going to let them hurt her!” His voice shakes with indignation.
My heart races at his words; anger wrestles with an unfamiliar sense of pride at his fierce loyalty. “You helped her escape?”
“I did what needed to be done.” His eyes burn with conviction as he speaks.
“I don’t want her hurt, Oswin,” I say slowly, allowing some softness into my tone. “But she’s in danger out there.”
He takes a breath as if steeling himself against some unseen force. “I know.”
“Then tell me where she went.” My voice lowers to an urgent whisper.
He glances nervously at the guards but finds his courage once more as he meets my gaze directly. “North,” he mutters fiercely. “Toward the marsh and as far away from this place as she can get so the guards won't find her.”
My heart thuds hard in response—she can't have gotten far.
“I will find her first,” I vow silently, each word solidifying within me like iron beneath heat and pressure.
“Your Highness?” One of the guards steps forward hesitantly.
“Release him.” My voice cuts through the air like steel slicing flesh; they obey without question.
Oswin stumbles free of their grasp and moves closer, emboldened now that he’s no longer being manhandled by those thuggish hands. “What will you do?”
I don’t answer immediately as thoughts race through my mind—a whirlwind of determination mixed with desperation.
“You’ll come back for me when you find her?” he asks quietly.
“Stay here,” I reply sharply before stepping past him toward the door leading outside. My heart pounds in sync with each footfall; anticipation rushes through me like adrenaline flooding through veins ready for battle.
I won’t let anything happen to Carys—not while there’s breath left in me or time left in this world of shadows and light entwined together in perilous beauty.