Page 29 of Claimed By the Alien Prince
“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.”
CHAPTER 22
ZEVRAN
Ipace my study, fingers brushing the wooden carvings on my desk. The scent of incense lingers in the air, but it does little to ease the turmoil roiling in my chest. Thoughts of Carys weave through my mind, an intricate vine that tangles with both curiosity and frustration.
The door swings open, and a guard storms in, breathless. “Your Highness! The envoy… he’s been poisoned.”
My heart drops. I rise abruptly, a jolt of fury igniting every nerve. “What do you mean poisoned?”
“It was in his tea,” the guard stammers. “A fungal strain?—”
Without waiting for more details, I stride past him, every step heavy with dread. The council chamber looms ahead like a storm cloud, chaos spilling from its doors. Voices clash and rise, each one sharper than the last as nobles point fingers and hurl accusations.
I push through the crowd, shoving aside those who block my path until I stand at the entrance to the chamber. A cacophony of shouts greets me; fear mixes with outrage as they grapple with this betrayal.
“Silence!” My voice booms across the room, cutting through their chaos like a knife through flesh.
They fall quiet, eyes turning to me with varying expressions—fear, anger, concern. I scan their faces for any sign of guilt or malice but find only uncertainty mirrored in their gazes.
“Where is the envoy?” I demand.
“He’s been taken to the healers,” one noble replies, his voice trembling slightly under my scrutiny.
“What do we know about this poison?” I ask sharply.
A councilor steps forward. “It appears to be a rare strain of particular interest to humans—one that was cataloged by your… guest.” He hesitates at the last word like it’s tainted by venom.
“Carys.” The name slips from my lips like a curse, heavy with the weight of disbelief and frustration. How could this happen? The mere thought of her being implicated in such a vile act twists my gut, igniting a storm within me.
“She had to have done it,” another noble interjects, his voice dripping with accusation and certainty. “She could have planted it!” The audacity of their claims fuels the fire of my anger, igniting a rage that courses through me like wildfire, consuming everything in its path.
“Enough!” I declare, my voice booming across the chamber, sharp enough to silence the murmurs of suspicion. “Carys is not our enemy!” I can feel the tension thickening, the weight of their mistrust pressing down on my chest like a boulder.
“She’s human!” a voice shouts from the back of the room, filled with a mix of fear and righteous indignation, as if her very humanity disqualifies her from innocence in their eyes.
“And humans can’t be trusted!” another adds fervently, his tone laced with contempt, as if the very mention of her name conjures all the prejudices they hold against her kind.
I step closer to them all, my heart racing, anger radiating off me in waves as I struggle to keep my voice from shaking with annoyance, to maintain some semblance of control. “You’re allowing your fear to cloud your judgment!” I assert, my tonefirm but edged with desperation. “There is no evidence that she intended harm. You are grasping at shadows, suspecting a woman who has only ever sought to understand our world.”
With each word I speak, I can feel the tension in the room shift, the air charged with the clash of loyalty and prejudice. I refuse to let them turn my friend into a scapegoat for their fears. Carys deserves better than this—she deserves my defense.
As if summoned by fate itself, Aran’tha enters behind me, her presence commanding silence once more. She glances around at our assembled court before fixing her gaze on me with a piercing intensity that calms some of my ire.
“We need facts,” she states coolly. “If this poison is indeed linked to her research…” She trails off, leaving an uncomfortable silence hanging between us all.
“They could have taken her findings out of context,” I reply quickly before anyone else can suggest what I fear they might—the notion that Carys had ulterior motives for being here beyond mere research.
“Or she might be unaware of its properties,” Aran’tha counters gently but firmly.
