Page 40 of Defying the Crown
I step off the Wonder Wheel with Daniel, our fingers interlaced, feeling lighter than I've felt in years. The midway stretches before us, a gauntlet of carnival games with barkers calling out to passersby.
"Step right up, test your skill! Three balls for five dollars!"
Daniel tugs me toward a booth where milk bottles are stacked in pyramids. The attendant, a man with weathered skin and a faded Coney Island cap, grins at us.
"Wanna win something for your boyfriend?" he asks, nodding toward the oversized plush animals hanging from the ceiling.
I feel a pleasant warmth spread through me at the word "boyfriend." Is that what we are now? The thought makes me stand a little taller.
"I'll try," I say, pulling out my wallet.
Daniel leans close, his breath tickling my ear. "These games are totally rigged, you know."
"Are they?" I hand over a five-dollar bill. "We don't have these exact games in Denmark."
The attendant passes me three baseballs. They feel heavier than they look.
"Just knock down all the bottles in one throw," he explains, gesturing toward the stack. "Simple as that."
I weigh the ball in my hand, studying the pyramid. In reality, I've had some training in various sports—part of my royal education—but never specifically in knocking down milk bottles at carnivals.
My first throwmisses completely.
Daniel bursts out laughing. "That was... spectacularly bad."
I feel my cheeks flush. "I'm just warming up."
The second ball clips the edge of the pyramid, sending one bottle wobbling but not falling.
"Close!" the attendant encourages, though his expression suggests he's seen this play out thousands of times.
I take a breath, focusing on the center of the bottom row. The ball leaves my hand in a clean arc and—
CRASH!
The entire pyramid collapses, bottles scattering across the back of the booth.
"We have a winner!" the attendant announces, sounding genuinely surprised.
Daniel's mouth drops open. "How did you—"
"Lucky throw," I shrug, unable to hide my grin.
"Which prize do you want?" the attendant asks, pointing to the hanging plush animals.
I turn to Daniel. "You choose."
Daniel points to a ridiculously fluffy blue penguin with oversized eyes. The attendant unhooks it and hands it to me, and I present it to Daniel with a small bow.
"Your penguin, sir."
Daniel hugs it to his chest, his eyes bright. "I shall name him Harald Junior."
I laugh, imagining what my father would say about my namesake being a carnival penguin. "An honor I don't deserve."
The afternoon sun beats down on the boardwalk as Daniel and I stroll past souvenir shops and food stands. The weight of his hand in mine feels right, like something I've been missing my whole life. We pass a group of teenagers playing music from a portable speaker, and Daniel starts bobbing his head to the beat.
"Dance with me," he says suddenly, pulling me toward the makeshift dance floor where a few other couples are swaying.
