Page 37 of Claimed By the Alien Prince
“She's a human!” one elder bellows, spittle flying as he jabs his finger at me. “What do we gain by keeping her? She’ll only bring ruin!”
“Silence!” My voice reverberates off the walls, cutting through the clamor like a blade.
The sudden quiet is palpable, a hush that wraps around us all. I breathe deeply, feeling the tension radiate from every corner of the chamber.
“I’ll go after her,” I declare, locking eyes with each member present, daring them to challenge me.
Gasps echo off the walls. Some nobles exchange horrified glances, others murmur disapproval, and a few even whisper my name like it’s some sort of curse. I ignore them all, focusing on the fact that they fail to understand the urgency of this situation.
“She’s a threat!” another noble shouts. “You can’t risk your life for her!”
“She poses no threat,” I snap back. “She’s frightened and alone in an alien world—one where every shadow could be hostile.”
“But she’s escaped!” someone counters, their voice laced with incredulity.
“And what do you propose we do?” I counter fiercely. “Let her wander among those who would see her harmed? Or worse?”
The Queen watches silently from her throne, regal and poised amidst the chaos. Her expression is unreadable; I can’t tell if she agrees or disapproves of my intent.
Then she nods—just once—but it feels monumental in its weight. A silent acknowledgment of my authority to act.
I turn on my heel and stride out of the chamber before they can formulate any more arguments against my decision. Each step pulses with urgency as I head toward my study.
The guards stationed along the corridor straighten up as I approach, their expressions shifting from passive observation to keen attention.
“Gather supplies and a mount,” I order without breaking stride. “I'm leaving as soon as it's ready.”
As I enter my study, the familiar scent of wood and ink grounds me momentarily—a reminder of the countless hours spent here deliberating over court matters that now feel trivial compared to Carys’s safety.
I grab a map of Verus spread across my desk, fingers tracing routes leading away from the palace and into unfamiliar territory where danger lurks in every shadowed corner.
“Your Highness.” Aran’tha slips into the room behind me, concern etched across her face. “Are you sure this is wise? You know how volatile things are right now.”
“Carys needs me,” I reply curtly without looking up from the map. The certainty in my voice surprises even me; it reverberates with clarity against all doubts creeping into my mind.
“The court won’t take kindly to this impulsive move.” Her voice lowers slightly as if speaking too loudly might shatter this fragile resolve I've built around myself.
“I don’t care what they think,” I say flatly, folding the map away with precision. “If they want bloodshed over misunderstandings, let them try without me.”
She exhales sharply but doesn’t argue further; instead she shifts slightly closer to peer at my plans laid out before us.
“Have you thought about what will happen if you find her?” she asks cautiously.
“Yes,” I respond with finality. “I’m bringing her back.”
With determination igniting within me like wildfire through dry brush, I prepare for whatever awaits beyond these walls—a confrontation with not only fate but also perhaps something deeper than mere duty: connection, bond… jalshagar.
CHAPTER 29
CARYS
Ipush deeper into the swampy lowland, boots—clearly meant for fashion and not protection—squelching in the muck. Each step sends a splatter of murky water up my shins, and I swear at the roots snaking beneath the surface, scratching my legs. This isn’t exactly how I pictured exploring Verus—more like a scene from some bad horror flick.
“Why can't I just be waterproof too?” I glare at Todd as he hovers just above the surface, his little green sensor eye blinking innocently. “You get to fly around while I’m stuck wading through this nightmare.”
He tilts slightly, his motor whirring as he shifts to avoid a low-hanging vine.
“Oh, look at you! All shiny and dry while I’m practically drowning here.” I gesture wildly with my free hand, cradling my data tablet with the other. “You should be grateful you’re just a glorified tin can. No scrapes or bruises for you!”
