Page 34 of Claimed By the Alien Prince
The throne room feels cavernous,shadows clinging to the walls like dark memories. I pace the polished floor, each step echoing my anxiety. Hours slip away, and with every passing minute, my impatience grows heavier, a weight I can’t shake. I try to force myself to sit on the throne, but the moment I do, restlessness surges through me like a wildfire.
I spring back up and resume my frantic pacing. The gilded decorations blur around me—symbols of power that feel utterly meaningless right now. All that matters is Carys.
The doors swing open with a creak, and Aran’tha steps inside, her expression unreadable.
“Carys?” I ask, my voice tinged with hope.
She shakes her head slowly. “No sign yet, cousin. But soon, I’m sure.”
A sharp breath escapes me as dread coils in my gut. “If anyone has harmed a single hair on her head…” The thought freezes in my throat; it’s too painful to contemplate.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Aran’tha reassures me, though her eyes betray her own uncertainty.
I want to argue; I want to shout that she can’t possibly know that. Instead, I nod curtly and attempt to swallow down the tightness in my chest.
“Zevran,” she tries again gently, “you should eat something.” She gestures toward a platter of food set aside on a low table.
“I have no appetite.” The words snap out before I can temper them with kindness.
“Your strength matters too,” she insists softly.
But what good is strength without Carys? I ignore her plea and return to pacing once more.
Minutes stretch into eternity until the heavy doors swing open again. Guards shove Oswin forward like a rag doll—his small frame stumbling against their grip.
“What is this?” I demand, fury flaring as they drag him into the room by his arm. “Why are you dragging my brother?”
“The young prince was seen helping the human escape, Your Highness,” one guard reports flatly.
Oswin glares defiantly at the guards but holds my gaze. “I wasn’t going to let them hurt her!” His voice shakes with indignation.
My heart races at his words; anger wrestles with an unfamiliar sense of pride at his fierce loyalty. “You helped her escape?”
“I did what needed to be done.” His eyes burn with conviction as he speaks.
“I don’t want her hurt, Oswin,” I say slowly, allowing some softness into my tone. “But she’s in danger out there.”
He takes a breath as if steeling himself against some unseen force. “I know.”
“Then tell me where she went.” My voice lowers to an urgent whisper.
He glances nervously at the guards but finds his courage once more as he meets my gaze directly. “North,” he mutters fiercely. “Toward the marsh and as far away from this place as she can get so the guards won't find her.”
My heart thuds hard in response—she can't have gotten far.
“I will find her first,” I vow silently, each word solidifying within me like iron beneath heat and pressure.
“Your Highness?” One of the guards steps forward hesitantly.
“Release him.” My voice cuts through the air like steel slicing flesh; they obey without question.
Oswin stumbles free of their grasp and moves closer, emboldened now that he’s no longer being manhandled by those thuggish hands. “What will you do?”
I don’t answer immediately as thoughts race through my mind—a whirlwind of determination mixed with desperation.
“You’ll come back for me when you find her?” he asks quietly.
“Stay here,” I reply sharply before stepping past him toward the door leading outside. My heart pounds in sync with each footfall; anticipation rushes through me like adrenaline flooding through veins ready for battle.
