Page 69 of Defying the Crown
Harald sighs dramatically but lets me guide him back to his room. "You two are worse than Erik with your fussing."
"Speaking of Erik," I help Harald settle onto the bed, my hands lingering perhaps a moment longer than necessary on his shoulders as I ease him down against the pillows. I can feel the tension in his muscles, the stubborn pride giving way to exhaustion. "He called earlier. Something about the press getting restless about your condition? Apparently, they're circling like sharks, demanding updates and spinning their own theories. You know how they get when there's a vacuum of information."
"Let them wait." Harald catches my hand, and a warm current races up my arm at his touch. His fingers intertwine with mine—strong yet gentle—as he pulls me down to sit beside him on the bed. The mattress dips slightly beneath our combined weight, bringing us closer together. His eyes hold mine, soft yet determined, with a vulnerability that makes my chest ache. "I'm not ready to share you with the world just yet."
The intimacy in his voice wraps around me like a blanket. I'm suddenly aware of how close we are, our thighs pressed together, his thumb absently stroking the back of my hand. Something in the way he says "the world" reminds me that his world is different from mine—bigger, more complex—though I don't yet understand just how different. All I know is that right here, in this quietmoment away from whatever storm is brewing outside this room, I feel like I matter to him in a way I haven't mattered to anyone in a long time.
"Harald..."
"I know, I know. Royal duties and all that." He traces patterns on my palm, each swirl of his fingertip sending little electric currents up my arm. His touch is gentle but deliberate, like he's writing promises into my skin. "But right now, in this room, I just want to be Harald. Your Harald."
"Always my Harald," I whisper, the words catching slightly in my throat. Something about saying it aloud makes it feel both terrifying and true, like I'm making a vow I never expected to make to anyone again—especially not to someone like him. The smile he gives me in return is radiant, transforming his entire face, crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that makes my chest ache. It's brighter than any crown, more valuable than any royal treasure, and it's meant just for me. In this moment, the gap between our worlds doesn't seem so vast after all.
Chapter 28
Daniel
"Bad one?" Harald's voice cuts through the darkness, and I realize I must have cried out in my sleep again. The hospital room is dim, lit only by the soft glow of monitors and the city lights beyond the window.
"I'm fine," I mumble, trying to slow my racing heart. The nightmare clings to me like cobwebs—Harald's body growing cold under my hands, the flatline sound echoing through empty corridors. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the images away, but they linger at the edges of my consciousness like unwelcome ghosts. My t-shirt sticks to my back, damp with cold sweat, and I can taste the metallic tang of fear in my mouth. These dreams have been haunting me for weeks now, each one more vivid than the last, leaving me gasping for breath in the darkness. I don't want to lose him—can't lose him—not when I've only just got him back again.
"Daniel." He shifts in the bed, making room. "Come here."
"You need your rest—"
"I need you to stop having nightmares alone in that chair." His voice is firm but gentle. "Come here."
I hesitate, my fingers trembling slightly as they clutch the edge of the hospital bed. I hoist myself up onto the narrow mattress, trying not to jostle Harald'sstill form too much as I settle beside him.
As I lie down, his body radiates warmth against mine, a stark contrast to the gaunt figure that torments me in my nightmares. Harald's hand finds mine in the darkness, his skin smooth and cool against my fevered palm. Gently but insistently, he guides my hand to rest on his chest, where it can feel the steady thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat pulsing beneath my fingertips.
The rhythm is reassuringly normal—strong and even—and it soothes some of the anxiety still roiling in my gut after that disturbing dream. Beneath Harald's pajama top, I can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes deeply and evenly. His other arm comes around me then, pulling me closer into the solid heat of his embrace.
"I'm here," he murmurs softly against my ear, his voice low and soothing in its gentle cadence. "You're safe now."
"I almost lost you," I whisper into the darkness. "If Ella hadn't come... if we'd been even a day later..."
"But you didn't. You came." His arms tighten around me. "You saved me."
"You saved yourself," I correct him, my voice catching slightly as the memory resurfaces with painful clarity. "I just... I can't stop seeing you in that bed, with all the tubes..." My fingers twist nervously in the fabric of his pajama top as the hospital room flashes before my eyes—the sickly pallor of his skin against the sterile white sheets, the rhythmic beeping of machines, the transparent tubes snaking from his arms to hanging bags of fluid. Even now, the image haunts me with its fragility, how close I came to losing him.
"Then look at me now instead." He tilts my chin up until our eyes meet. Even in the dim light, I can see how far he's come. His face has filled out, healthy and handsome again, with those high cheekbones and that subtle cleft in his chin that I love to trace with my thumb. When he flexes his arm around me, I feel the returned strength in his muscles, solid and reassuring against my body—nothing like the frightening weakness I'd felt when I'd held his hand before. "I'm right here, kæreste. Very much alive." His Danish endearment washes over me like a warm blanket, familiar and soothing in ways I never thought a foreign word could be.
"Promise me," I say, hating how my voice breaks. "Promise me you'll never..."
"I promise." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "No more running away. No more giving up. You and me, we face everything together from now on."
I let out a shaky breath and settle against him, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. It's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.
A soft knock at the door makes me jolt awake. Ingrid stands in the doorway, one eyebrow raised at finding me tangled up with Harald in his hospital bed.
"Good morning," she says mildly. "I trust you both slept well?"
I feel my face heat as I scramble to sit up, but Harald's hand on my arm keeps me in place.
"Best sleep in weeks, actually," Harald tells her, and I hear the challenge in his voice. He's daring her to comment on us sharing a hospital bed.
"Interesting." She makes a note in her ever-present notebook. "And the nightmares, Daniel?"
