Page 28 of Claimed By the Alien Prince
“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.
