Page 33 of Claimed By the Alien Prince
“Let’s go,” I say, urgency threading my voice.
Oswin nods and takes off down the corridor, his small frame darting into the shadows like a flicker of light escaping a storm. I follow closely behind, heart racing as dread coils around my stomach. The weight of Zevran’s anger hangs heavy in the air; it taints every thought I have of him, turning memories of warmth into ice.
We slip through the dimly lit halls, passing ornate tapestries and intricate carvings that tell stories of Kiphian legends long forgotten. My breath quickens with every echo of footsteps behind us. I can almost feel the guards’ presence closing in, their shouts muffled but menacing.
“Which way?” I whisper, desperate to keep myself calm.
Oswin glances back at me, eyes sparkling with mischief and determination. “This way!” He veers left down a narrower passageway that twists like a serpent. I follow without hesitation, trusting him despite the uncertainty that clings to my thoughts.
The air grows cooler here, tinged with the scent of damp earth and moss—a stark contrast to the polished grandeur of the palace. Vines hang from above like curtains, swaying slightly as if whispering secrets only they know.
“Keep moving,” he urges softly as we press on through shadowy corridors.
I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting Zevran to materialize from the darkness. The thought stings; our last encounter burns in my thoughts like a fresh wound. It wasn’t just anger—there was disappointment there too. He thinks I’m a danger now, and part of me knows he might be right.
We reach an intersection where light spills from an open archway ahead. Oswin peeks around the corner before turning back to me.
“There’s an exit,” he whispers urgently.
“Can we trust it?” My heart races again—not just from fear but from wanting to believe in this chance at escape.
“Trust me,” he insists with childlike confidence that tugs at something inside me—hope? Maybe it's foolishness. But right now? It doesn’t matter.
I nod sharply and together we surge forward into the light beyond, leaving behind everything—Zevran included—and stepping into uncertainty.
CHAPTER 26
ZEVRAN
Istride 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, urgencyspilling 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.
