Page 22 of Gifted to the Alien Prince

“What’s going on?” My voice came out steadier than I felt. “Why are you just arriving now?”

Akora’s eyes met mine. “Lucian is missing.” Her voice was thin with worry. “We’ve searched the grounds. There’s no trace of him.”

A cold knot formed in my gut. My brother’s absence hung like a threat in the air. How long had he been gone? What danger might he have wandered into?

Cryostrum appeared at Akora’s side, his usually unshakeable demeanor frayed. “We’ve checked the palace perimeter and the forest’s edge. He’s not there.” His jaw clenched.

My mind raced. Lucian had a way of finding trouble, but for this to occur during the solstice, a time meant for celebration, felt different. “I’ll find him.”

I turned on my heel, my decision clear. Two of my most trusted guards, Saren and Miko, were nearby, having arrived with the queen’s entourage. Their expressions were grim as they fell into step beside me.

I hesitated just for a moment, my thoughts darting back to Isa. I should wake her to tell her where I was going. But the thought of her waking to worry for Lucian, and maybe for me, gnawed at me.She’s safe here.That was what mattered.

I pushed the hesitation aside and strode toward the palace doors. The cold air pushed against my lungs as we stepped out into the forest.

A COUPLE HOURS PASSED, and all I could think about was my brother out in the elements, missing for half a day and night. The cold gnawed at my skin, an insistent reminder that even Glaciarian endurance had its limits.

Enrinu snorted, shaking the ice that had begun crystallizing on his antlers. I gave him a soothing pat on his neck. The animal was getting restless. We had to find Lucian before fatigue set in.

Each step we took deeper into the snow-draped forest felt heavier, the weight of time pressing down on my shoulders. Miko’s breath was a white puff of air as he paused and looked at me, the frustration evident on his face. “Your Highness, if I may suggest. Perhaps your talents could aid our search.”

I stiffened. It was a suggestion I hadn’t wanted to hear, one that pried open a door I thought I’d sealed long ago. My song. My voice. The gift that failed when it mattered most.

But Miko’s words weren’t the only ones that whispered in my mind.

It’s a gift, not just for you, but for anyone who hears it.Isa’s voice, soft and sure, wove through the cracks in my doubt. I could see the conviction in her eyes. She didn’t shy away from the sorrow my song held. She’d listened, understood, and even found hope in it.

I swallowed hard, the ghosts of my past battle clawing at the edges of my thoughts. What good was a song that couldn’t save lives? That couldn’t bring back the fallen?

But this wasn’t a battlefield. This was my brother. And I was done letting grief hold me captive.

“Perhaps you’re right,” I murmured, the decision crystallizing with each word. My heart pounded as if preparing for combat, but this was a different kind of fight, one to reclaim a part of myself, for Lucian’s sake.

I drew in a slow breath. My eyes drifted closed, and I searched within for the song that lay buried beneath layers of regret. The first notes trembled on my lips, hesitant and thin.

Then, something shifted. A deep ache unfurled in my chest, and the notes blossomed into a melody. The song rose, a thread of sound that wove through the silence. It was a tune of old bonds, of childhood promises made in the echoing halls of the palace. A song of brotherhood that went beyond titles and duty.

“Lucian,” I called, his name a part of the melody, a plea wrapped in music. The song was no longer just sound. It was a tether, a pulse that stretched through the forest, searching for an answering beat.

As the song expanded, I felt a ripple in the stillness. The energy around us shifted as if the forest itself listened. And then, faint and fragile, there it was: a resonance. A response.

I opened my eyes, the determination flaring within me. “Over there.” I pointed toward the north. The guards fell in beside me without hesitation, urging their frostgrazers forward with renewed hope.

The forest blurred around us as we pushed forward, branches brushing our coats. The song still lingered on my lips, refusing to fade.

Then I saw him, crumpled beside a cluster of ferns. His coat was damp and crusted with snow, his hair a spray of silver against dark stone. Panic clawed at me, but I forced it down and dropped to my knees beside him.

“Lucian.” My voice was rough, the melody gone, replaced by raw desperation.

His eyes opened, pale blue and glassy, but alive. Relief slammed into me. He was half-frozen, but he was breathing.

“Brother.” His voice was a weak rasp, but he managed a faint, lopsided smile. “Took you long enough.”

A laugh, part anguish, part relief, escaped me. Saren and Miko moved in swiftly, offering blankets.

My stubborn little brother refused them. “Am I a child in need of his comfort blankie? I think the hell not.”

“What the hell happened to you out here?” I demanded. “Everyone’s looking for you.”