Page 49 of Claimed By the Alien Prince
Carys lets out a soft gasp that sends sparks racing down my spine—a reminder of our bond that still crackles beneath our skin like electricity waiting to ignite. I trail kisses along the curve of her collarbone before pulling back slightly to meet those vibrant eyes once more.
“Delusional or not,” I murmur against her ear, “I think you might be underestimating how stunning you are.”
She shivers at my words; it’s intoxicating how much power lies in this shared intimacy. Her cheeks flush—a glorious pinkhue spreading across that smooth skin—and it makes me want to lose myself even deeper in this moment.
“Don’t we have somewhere to be?” Carys teases, her voice light and playful, but the weight of my responsibilities presses heavily on my chest.
I sigh, straightening up and shaking off the remnants of that moment. My duty looms like a shadow over us.
“Are you sure you want to come?” I offer one last chance for her to back out, to retreat into the safety of my chambers while I handle this mess alone. It’s a tempting thought—protecting her from the chaos that’s about to unfold.
She shakes her head, determination sparking in those amber eyes. “I want to be by your side.”
Her refusal sends warmth through me, but I can’t ignore the danger swirling in the air around us. I nod reluctantly and extend my arm. She loops her hand through it with a confidence that makes my heart race despite the gravity of our situation.
We walk down the hallway, each step echoing like a drumbeat in my ears.
“What’s your plan?” she asks, glancing up at me with curiosity shining bright in those expressive eyes.
I hesitate, guilt pooling in my gut. “To be honest? I don’t really know yet.” My voice is laced with frustration as I grip her hand tighter. “But I won’t stop until I find the culprit who dared to poison that envoy and point their finger at you.” The urgency pulses through me; every second counts.
Carys nods slowly, digesting my words. “I trust you,” she says simply.
Those three words wrap around me, fighting against the chill of uncertainty that grips my spine. Trust is a precious commodity in this court—a dangerous gamble—and yet here she is, laying hers at my feet without hesitation.
As we approach the throne room, whispers swirl around us like a tempest. The courtiers—those who wield power and influence—wait inside with their judgments already forming behind their poised façades.
I push open the grand doors to the throne room, and the sound of the hinges creaking echoes ominously through the vast space, heightening my heart rate to a relentless drumbeat of anxiety. The air thickens with palpable tension as the court officials, once engaged in their idle chatter, abruptly halt their conversations, abruptly shifting their attention to us. I step inside, Carys by my side, her presence both grounding and electric, a strange juxtaposition that somehow steadies me even as it sends jolts of energy coursing through my veins.
The whispers begin almost immediately—quick, darting murmurs that skitter across the polished marble floor like errant shadows fleeing the light. I can’t help but steal a glance at the faces surrounding us, each one a mask painted with a blend of curiosity, disdain, or outright contempt.
They’ve seen me with her; every rumor is confirmed. A human—a species they deem inferior—standing beside their prince, their eyes glinting with a mix of disbelief and derision, as if they cannot fathom how I could choose to associate with someone so far beneath them in their rigid hierarchy.
But I refuse to dwell on their judgment; I can’t afford to. I stride forward with purpose, each step a defiance against the prying eyes and gossiping mouths that threaten to drown me in their whispers. My focus remains fixed on the throne at the end of the hall, where my mother sits, regal and composed, a pillar of authority that commands respect.
Her presence is both a comfort and a reminder of the weight of my responsibilities. The intricate patterns of her gown shimmer in the muted light, and I can see her eyes narrowing slightly as she takes in the sight of us. I steel myself for theconfrontation ahead, knowing that every word I utter here could either fortify my position or unravel everything I’ve worked for.
As I ascend the steps leading up to her throne, she narrows her gaze at me, icy disapproval radiating from her like a winter chill. “You dare summon your Queen?” Her voice booms across the chamber, cutting through the tension like a knife.
I meet her gaze with unyielding resolve. “You’ll want to hear this.”
With one sweeping motion, I turn back toward the gathered court and call for attention. The room falls silent, every eye now trained on me, anticipation hanging in the air like a noose.
“There’s a traitor in this room,” I declare, my voice steady and commanding. “And no one leaves until I find them.”
CHAPTER 39
CARYS
The atmosphere shifts, thickening with unease as every eye in the room turns toward me. Tension coils in my belly like a viper ready to strike.
What am I doing here? I should’ve stayed in my quarters, buried myself in my research. But now I’m standing beside Zevran, a prince who has declared war on whatever faint semblance of normalcy I thought I could cling to. Some faces show surprise, others sharpen into narrow slits of accusation, their judgment palpable and suffocating.
This was never supposed to happen. My purpose here was simple: study the flora and fauna of Verus, log my findings, and return to the CRC with groundbreaking data. Just a botanist chasing plants—nothing more. But here I am, entangled in court politics that could cost me my life.
My thoughts spiral downward. I can’t breathe under the weight of their gazes. They see me as an intruder, an unwanted blight among their sacred trees—a parasite clinging to their roots.
Panic wells up inside me like rising water threatening to overflow. My pulse quickens as whispers flit through the crowd like dark wings; they must think I'm guilty, too.
