Page 40 of Claimed By the Alien Prince

ZEVRAN

I wipe my blade clean, the steel glinting ominously in the flickering light of the chamber.

I can’t tear my gaze from Lord Kaldin’s lifeless body sprawled at my feet, his severed head staring blankly into nothingness.

I feel a weight settle over me—a mix of triumph and foreboding.

Kaldin's death might silence one voice of dissent, but it’s merely a drop in an ocean of opposition.

I know Kaldin lacked the cunning to orchestrate such a plot against Carys.

His hatred for humans runs deep, rooted in old prejudices that should have withered away like autumn leaves.

But he thrived on them instead, clinging to outdated beliefs like a child to a tattered blanket.

I used to share that disdain, shrouded in ignorance and pride.

But I've changed. I’ve seen more than just the surface—seen Carys's passion for life, her unyielding spirit.

"Allow me to address the recent rumors."

I turn toward her, drawing her close. The gasps echoing around us fade into background noise as I press my lips softly against hers. The connection jolts through me—a reminder of our bond, undeniable and fierce.

“She is my Jalshagar,” I declare to the court, letting the words hang heavily in the air.

Shock ripples through the gathered nobles like a current—disbelief painted on their faces as they grapple with what I’ve just claimed. I stand tall against their murmurs, letting my heart guide me as it thrums steadily in my chest.

“Threaten her again… and I won’t stop with one blade.” My voice hardens, filled with a steely resolve that cuts through any lingering doubt. My gaze sweeps over the council members—each face betraying varying degrees of fear and outrage.

I’m prepared for chaos to ensue; ready for them to react as they always do when confronted with something they don’t understand—something that challenges their power dynamics and long-held beliefs about humans and Kiphians alike.

But now? Now I don’t care about their anger or their outdated notions of honor and purity. Carys stands beside me—my fated mate—and if they want to get between us… so be it.

They will have to come to terms with their consequences.

I pull Carys close, feeling her warmth seep into me like sunlight breaking through the canopy. She leans her head against my chest, and for a moment, the chaos of court recedes.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her breath warm against my skin.

“I mean every word,” I reply, gripping her tighter. “You never asked for this—never asked to be my mate or to be caught in the middle of these political storms.”

She shifts slightly, looking up at me with those bright amber eyes that pierce through the layers of tension coiling around us. I see confusion mingled with something softer, something deeper.

“But I can’t go another day without you. Ever again.”

Surprising me entirely, she meets my gaze and says firmly, “Neither could I.”

Her words wash over me like a refreshing rain after a long drought. I lean down, pressing my lips to her forehead, and for that fleeting moment, we exist outside of our roles—outside of everything threatening to tear us apart.

“How did you know I left my room the night the envoy died?” she asks softly, pulling back just enough to look at me directly.

I search her eyes, brows furrowing at the change in topic.

“Aran’tha promised not to say anything,” she adds, an edge of uncertainty creeping into her voice.

My expression darkens further as the pieces of this perplexing puzzle begin to click into place, forming an unsettling picture that I had not wanted to confront. “Aran’tha knew?”

The question spills out before I can contain it, each word laced with a growing sense of betrayal. The very idea of my trusted advisor holding secrets from me twists something tight and uncomfortable in the pit of my stomach.

Carys's brow furrows in confusion as she processes my reaction, her bright amber eyes searching mine for clarity. “What do you mean?” she asks, her voice edged with concern. The way she looks at me, an earnest inquiry wrapped in uncertainty, only deepens my turmoil.

I step back slightly, creating a distance that feels necessary as I search her face for answers that seem just out of reach.

The trust I had placed in Aran’tha now feels like a gaping wound—raw and exposed—one that may have been festering for longer than I had realized.

Aran’tha would not betray me lightly; she understands the intricate web of court politics better than anyone I know.

But this? This feels different, almost personal.

The implications thrum through my mind like a discordant melody, each note striking a nerve. I can’t shake the feeling of being ensnared in a trap set by someone I thought I could rely on.

“I see,” I murmur more to myself than to her, as the weight of realization settles in heavy and cold, pressing down on my chest.

My cousin has always been shrewd; she plays this game of court intrigue with such deftness that it becomes all too easy to overlook her motives at times.

If she knows about Carys’s escape, then the stakes have become dangerously high.

The thought sends a chill through me, and I find myself wondering what else she might be hiding, what other secrets linger in the shadows of our tangled lives.

“Zevran?” Carys’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

I look down at her; concern flickers across her features.