Page 53 of Claimed By the Alien Prince
His warmth envelops me, grounding me amid this whirlwind of emotions and fear. But confusion tightens around my heartlike a vise. Why would Aran’tha want me dead? The question burns through my mind like wildfire.
Zevran shifts slightly, pulling back enough for me to meet his jade gaze. “She was angry,” he explains softly, words dripping with uncharacteristic vulnerability. “Angry that she was overlooked while she fought for every inch of respect at court.”
I blink at him, trying to absorb what he’s saying while glancing nervously at Aran’tha's still form lying on the floor.
“She wanted to manipulate things to her advantage,” he continues, frustration edging into his tone. “Cousin or not—she’s never been favored by our family.”
“So she thought killing me would somehow help her?” I ask incredulously.
“It was about power—about being underestimated.” His voice grows sharper as if recalling painful memories stirs something within him. “Aran’tha believed that poisoning the envoy would cause conflict between our two kingdoms enough that she would be needed. And you were her scapegoat.”
Disbelief surges through me as I shake my head slowly. “But I’m just a researcher...”
“Exactly.” His grip tightens around me like a shield against the world outside our bubble. “You don’t understand how they view outsiders here.”
I take a shaky breath and look away from him again, focusing on Aran’tha's body and what it means for us all now—the chaos erupting in this hall might not end here.
The whispers grow louder as courtiers circle around us like vultures eager for their next meal. My heart races with dread; how many people will pay for this? How many more lives are entwined in this political web?
“I need to leave,” I whisper urgently against Zevran’s shoulder.
“Not yet.” His voice is firm but gentle as he tilts my chin up so our eyes lock again. “We need to address this first—to quell the storm before it gets out of hand.”
I nod slowly despite the turmoil churning within me—the uncertainty of what lies ahead—and clutch onto him tighter than before. If only holding onto him could shield us from everything unraveling around us...
The weight of the moment presses down on me, thick and suffocating. I stand there, nestled against Zevran’s side, as he faces the court—a prince turned king in an instant, all because of a murder that feels like a shattering of glass in my heart.
“Anyone else aligned with Aran’tha will die without trial.” His voice booms through the hall, each word heavy with authority.
Murmurs ripple through the crowd like wind stirring fallen leaves, their gazes darting nervously around as if they expect shadows to leap out at them. I can almost hear their thoughts: who else among us could be plotting?
But I can’t shake the thought that Aran’tha's death might only fan the flames of danger. What if someone else takes her place? A new face in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to strike at me—the easy target. My heart races, fear clawing at my throat.
Then Zevran pulls me closer, solid and unwavering against the uncertainty swirling around us. “Carys is a member of the royal court,” he declares fiercely. “As my Jalshagar, she is to be considered the princess-consort. Any harm done to her is harm done to the crown. Punishable by death.”
A hush blankets the room; it’s a stillness so profound I can almost hear my pulse thrumming in my ears. The courtiers who once glared at me now regard me with something new—reverence? I blink up at them, bewildered by their sudden shift in demeanor. This isn’t what I signed up for when I stepped ontothis planet for research; I’m just a botanist caught in a web of politics.
Except… I'm not anymore. I'm mated to the prince. I may have came here for plants and research, another piece of the CRC. But I'm still here because of my bond, my… love. I can feel it in my bones; Zevran is my purpose now.
The Queen stands taller than ever, her expression inscrutable as she studies her son with a mix of pride and resignation. “It’s time.” Her voice cuts through the silence like a blade.
She removes her circlet—gold gleaming even in this dim light—and places it into Zevran’s hands. The act feels monumental, as though she’s not just relinquishing a crown but also centuries of tradition wrapped in duty and expectation.
Zevran looks down at the circlet resting in his palm before his gaze meets mine again. In this moment where power shifts between mother and son, all eyes are on us—on him—but somehow it feels like everything narrows down to just us two amidst chaos.
“What do we do now?” My voice trembles slightly; questions swirl inside me like leaves caught in an autumn storm.
He hesitates only for a moment before responding, determination igniting his eyes. “Now we show them strength.”
I swallow hard; strength has never been my forte. All those years studying flora back on Earth felt insignificant compared to this realm filled with politics and peril. Yet standing beside him now—his confidence wrapping around me—I feel emboldened despite my fear.
The murmurs rise again as people adjust to this new reality: Zevran ruling while I stand at his side—a foreigner suddenly thrust into royalty.
"You rule now," the Queen announces, gaze circling the room before it lands on me with a purpose. "Bothof you."
CHAPTER 43
ZEVRAN
