Page 51 of Claimed By the Alien Prince
I pull Carys close, feeling her warmth seep into me like sunlight breaking through the canopy. She leans her head against my chest, and for a moment, the chaos of court recedes.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her breath warm against my skin.
“I mean every word,” I reply, gripping her tighter. “You never asked for this—never asked to be my mate or to be caught in the middle of these political storms.”
She shifts slightly, looking up at me with those bright amber eyes that pierce through the layers of tension coiling around us. I see confusion mingled with something softer, something deeper.
“But I can’t go another day without you. Ever again.”
Surprising me entirely, she meets my gaze and says firmly, “Neither could I.”
Her words wash over me like a refreshing rain after a long drought. I lean down, pressing my lips to her forehead, and forthat fleeting moment, we exist outside of our roles—outside of everything threatening to tear us apart.
“How did you know I left my room the night the envoy died?” she asks softly, pulling back just enough to look at me directly.
I search her eyes, brows furrowing at the change in topic.
“Aran’tha promised not to say anything,” she adds, an edge of uncertainty creeping into her voice.
My expression darkens further as the pieces of this perplexing puzzle begin to click into place, forming an unsettling picture that I had not wanted to confront. “Aran’tha knew?”
The question spills out before I can contain it, each word laced with a growing sense of betrayal. The very idea of my trusted advisor holding secrets from me twists something tight and uncomfortable in the pit of my stomach.
Carys's brow furrows in confusion as she processes my reaction, her bright amber eyes searching mine for clarity. “What do you mean?” she asks, her voice edged with concern. The way she looks at me, an earnest inquiry wrapped in uncertainty, only deepens my turmoil.
I step back slightly, creating a distance that feels necessary as I search her face for answers that seem just out of reach. The trust I had placed in Aran’tha now feels like a gaping wound—raw and exposed—one that may have been festering for longer than I had realized. Aran’tha would not betray me lightly; she understands the intricate web of court politics better than anyone I know. But this? This feels different, almost personal.
The implications thrum through my mind like a discordant melody, each note striking a nerve. I can’t shake the feeling of being ensnared in a trap set by someone I thought I could rely on.
“I see,” I murmur more to myself than to her, as the weight of realization settles in heavy and cold, pressing down on my chest.
My cousin has always been shrewd; she plays this game of court intrigue with such deftness that it becomes all too easy to overlook her motives at times. If she knows about Carys’s escape, then the stakes have become dangerously high. The thought sends a chill through me, and I find myself wondering what else she might be hiding, what other secrets linger in the shadows of our tangled lives.
“Zevran?” Carys’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.
I look down at her; concern flickers across her features.
CHAPTER 41
CARYS
Iwatch Zevran stride toward his mother, his posture taut, voice low. Even from here, I can see the way his shoulders tense. He looks shaken—like a tree in a storm, bending but not breaking.
Did I say something wrong? My heart races, anxiety spiraling as I try to make sense of the shifting dynamics around us. Is he angry with me again? Just when I thought we were on the same page, everything seems to teeter on the edge.
I turn away from their hushed conversation, feeling small in this grand hall surrounded by Kiphian decor and regal displays. Seeking distraction, I wander to the nearest window and peer out into the vibrant expanse of Verus below.
The treetop kingdom stretches like an intricate tapestry, woven together by nature and artistry. Canopies glow softly with bioluminescence while orbs glide gracefully between platforms high above the forest floor. Yet beneath this beauty lies a murky uncertainty.
What do they think of me out there? Do they know who I am? A human among Kiphians—a scientist turned unwitting pawn in a game of political intrigue.
Do they whisper about me? Are my actions already part of their tales? The notion sends a chill down my spine. The man who will someday be their king has mated with a human—and that carries weight beyond anything I can comprehend.
I imagine eyes narrowing at my presence in their royal halls, sneers hidden behind polite smiles as they contemplate what my existence means for their culture—an outsider who dares tread on sacred ground. Will they hate me for it? Will they see me as an invader rather than a guest?
I glance back at Zevran, still deep in conversation with his mother. The tension in the room wraps around me like a suffocating vine. As I wrestle with my thoughts, Aran’tha approaches, her movements fluid and purposeful. Her eyes hold a mix of calculation and something softer.
“You’re doing well,” she says, her voice low enough to keep the conversation private, almost conspiratorial. The softness of her tone contrasts sharply with the tension that lingers in the air, like a taut string ready to snap. “All this will blow over eventually; it’s just a matter of time.”
