Page 68 of Defying the Crown
"I'm right here, you know," he protests, but lets me guide him down the steps with exaggerated care.
"And getting stronger every day," Ingrid notes, her gaze moving between us. "Though perhaps that's as much about the motivation as the exercise."
I feel my cheeks warm, but can't deny how Harald seems to try harder when I'm here. Just as I can't sleep unless I'm in the room with him, listening to his steady breathing, reassuring myself that his heart monitor keeps its regular rhythm.
"Speaking of which," Ingrid continues, "Daniel, I'd like to discuss those night terrors you've been having. Perhaps we could schedule—"
"I'm fine," I interrupt, though Harald's hand tightens on mine. "They're just dreams."
"Daniel." Harald's voice is soft but firm. "You barely slept last night. I heard you crying out."
The concern in his voice makes my throat tight. Here he is, the one who nearly... who was in the hospital bed, and he's worried about me? I try to deflect with a shrug, but Harald isn't having it.
"If I have to talk to Ingrid, so do you," he says, using what I've come to think of as his prince voice. "We heal together, remember?"
Over the next few days, Harald's determination becomes almost unstoppable. Each morning, I find him already awake, doing the exercises the physiotherapist prescribed. The hospital gown has been replaced with proper workout clothes—a concession from his doctors after he complained enough times.
"You're staring again," Harald says, not pausing his arm curls with the small hand weights. A sheen of sweat makes his skin glow in the morning light filtering through the hospital windows.
"Can you blame me?" I settle into my usual chair, coffee in hand. "A week ago you could barely lift a spoon, and now look at you."
His chest, which had grown so frighteningly hollow, is starting to fill out again. The doctors are pleased with his progress, though I still catch them watching him carefully during their rounds. The heart monitors remain, a constant reminder of how close we came to—no. I push the thought away.
"Earth to Daniel." Harald's voice pulls me back. He's set down the weights and is studying me with that worried look I hate causing. "Where did you go just now?"
"Nowhere." I force a smile. "Just thinking about how handsome you're looking."
"Liar." He beckons me closer. When I reach his side, he takes my hand and places it over his heart. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, I can feel its strong, steady rhythm. "Feel that? Still beating. Still here."
I let out a shaky breath. "I know. I just—"
"I know." He pulls me down until our foreheads touch. "But I'm getting stronger every day. Thanks to you."
"Pretty sure that's thanks to your stubbornness and the medical team," I murmur.
"No." His hand cups my cheek. "Having you here... it gives me something to fight for. Someone to come back to."
Before I can respond, his physiotherapist arrives with a new set of resistance bands, and Harald's face lights up like it's Christmas morning. I settle back in my chair, watching as he tackles each new exercise with the same determination he showed on those first stairs.
The prince might be coming back to his full strength, but I'm the one who feels stronger just by being here with him.
"Look who's strutting," I tease as Harald completes another lap of the hospital wing without any support. His gait is steady now, confident, though I still hover nearby—just in case.
"Jealous of my catwalk?" He strikes an exaggerated pose that makes a passing nurse giggle. The sound of his laughter—real, full-bodied laughter—still makes my heart skip. Three weeks ago, I wasn't sure I'd ever hear it again.
"Show-off," I mutter, but can't hide my smile.
The physical changes are remarkable. His shoulders have filled out, his arms regaining their definition after weeks of proper meals and gradually increasing exercise. The hollow look in his cheeks has been replaced by healthy colour that makes his blue eyes seem even brighter, like someone switched on lights behind them. His clothes—proper clothes now, not just those depressing hospital gowns—fit him properly again, the soft grey henley hugging his chest in ways that I'm trying not to notice too obviously. It's like watching a wilted plant come back to life after watering, each day bringing back more of the Harald I first met, though something new and resilient has taken root in him too.
Ingrid appears at the end of the corridor, watching our progress with her usual thoughtful expression. "Impressive improvement, Your Highness. Though perhaps we should discuss your tendency to overexert yourself?"
"I feel fine," Harald protests, but I catch the slight tremor in his legs.
"Bed," I announce, brooking no argument. "You've done enough for today."
"But—"
"Doctor's orders," Ingrid backs me up, though I catch the slight quirk of her lips. "And I believe your rather protective boyfriend's orders as well."
