Page 23 of Claimed By the Alien Prince
The table stretches before me, ornate and carved from the sacred trees of Verus. Yet it all feels far away. My thoughts drift to Carys, her silhouette framed by the window last night, hair dancing in the breeze as if the world outside called to her. She stood there, eyes closed, trusting the moment as I watched from a distance.
I can’t help but picture her expression—a mix of serenity and defiance—as if she belongs here. A flutter of something tightens in my chest.
She does belong here, that possessive voice hisses in my mind.She belongs to you.
A noble at the far end clears his throat, snapping me back to reality. His voice drags across my consciousness like a dull blade. “Your Highness?”
I nod absently but don’t absorb his words. My thoughts spiral back to Carys—her laughter ringing in my ears, the way she bites her lip when she’s thinking hard about something. It feels absurdly intimate.
Aran’tha’s gaze catches mine across the room, her brow furrowed in that familiar way when she senses I’m lost in thought. As soon as the meeting adjourns, she strides toward me, determination etched into her features.
“Zevran,” she says sharply, halting before me. “The court is losing patience.”
I straighten my posture instinctively. “What do you mean?”
“You must choose—claim her or get rid of her.” Her tone leaves no room for misinterpretation. "This has gone on long enough."
The words hit me like an arrow piercing flesh; sharp and unyielding. I swallow hard, trying to find my voice among the rising tide of uncertainty.
“I can’t?—”
“Can’t or won’t?” She narrows her eyes at me.
The council's discussions linger at the edge of my thoughts—a cacophony that becomes background noise against Aran’tha’s piercing stare.
“It’s not that simple,” I mutter finally.
“Isn’t it? You know what this bond means.” Her voice softens slightly, yet there’s an urgency beneath it. “You have a responsibility—to your people and to yourself.”
The pressure mounts within me; giving up Carys feels impossible. But claiming her? It twists my gut with fear of how fragile this connection remains—the delicate web we’ve spun together over meals and laughter hidden from prying eyes.
“And what if I make the wrong choice?” I snap, almost pleading with her to understand.
She crosses her arms tightly across her chest, frustration radiating off her like heat from a flame. “Then you’re not worthy of either position: prince or mate.”
My hands curl into fists on the table's edge as I wrestle with anger and fear—emotions I’d rather keep buried under layers of control and decorum.
“Why does it matter so much?” I finally ask through gritted teeth.
“Because if you cast her aside without considering what you might lose…” She shakes her head slowly as if weighing each word carefully against fate itself. “You risk becoming just like those nobles who cannot see beyond their own selfishness.”
My breath catches in my throat at that—because what would that make me? Just another figure trapped by duty and expectation?
“Do you want that?” she presses further when silence envelops us like a thick fog.
“No,” I admit reluctantly, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks—a rare vulnerability uncharacteristic of Kiphians during discussions of state affairs.
As I look into Aran’tha’s determined gaze searching for answers within me, clarity starts to emerge through chaos—the thought of Carys leaving or being hurt claws at my insides like a wild beast desperate for freedom.
And yet choosing means embracing everything about this bond—its power and its danger intertwined.
But breathing without lungs? It feels unbearable just thinking about it.
“I need time,” I say finally as we stand amidst shadows cast by flickering lightstones overhead—both a statement and a plea cloaked in uncertainty hanging between us like unresolved tension ready to snap.
“Time may not be on your side,” she warns gently before stepping back into the fray of court politics while I remain tethered between two worlds: one with duty pressing heavily upon my shoulders…and another that pulls at my heart with an intensity that leaves no escape route visible ahead.
CHAPTER 19
