Page 70 of Defying the Crown
I realize with surprise that for the first time since arriving in Denmark, I slept through the night without a single terror. "None," I admit.
"As I suspected." She settles into the chair I usually occupy. "Physical proximity can be incredibly therapeutic for trauma recovery. For both parties," she adds meaningfully.
Harald's thumb traces circles on my shoulder. "Does this mean—"
"I'll speak with the head nurse about adjusting the overnight policies," Ingrid says. "Now, shall we discuss your physical therapy schedule for today? The weights room has been cleared for your use this morning."
Harald practically vibrates with excitement next to me. "Really? No more tiny hand weights?"
"Really," she confirms. "Though I expect you both to respect the limits we've set." Her stern gaze fixes on me. "That means you're in charge of making sure His Highness doesn't overdo it."
"Yes, ma'am," I say, already knowing I'll have my hands full keeping Harald from pushing too hard.
I shift uncomfortably in the bed as Ingrid leans over and picks up Harald's latest test results, her expression brightening as she flips through the charts.
"Your recoveryrate is truly remarkable, Harald" she says. "At this pace, I believe we can discharge you by the end of the week."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. End of the week. My throat tightens.
"That's wonderful news," Harald beams, but I can't seem to match his enthusiasm.
"Of course," Ingrid continues, "there will be a follow-up regimen and regular check-ins, but you can continue your recovery at the palace."
The palace. Royal duties. Press conferences. Photographers. The reality I've been avoiding while safely tucked away in this hospital bubble crashes down around me.
"Daniel?" Harald's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. "You've gone pale."
I try to smile but it feels more like a grimace. "Just... processing."
Ingrid gives me a knowing look. "I'll leave you two to discuss. Remember, physical therapy in twenty minutes."
As she closes the door behind her, Harald leans over and wraps me up tightly in his warm arms. His movements are fluid now, nothing like the frail man I first saw in this room.
"What's happening in that head of yours?" he asks, nuzzling his face into my hair.
"Everything's about to change," I whisper. "Once we leave here, it's not just us anymore. It's... everything else. The press, your father, your responsibilities—"
"Hey," Harald interrupts. "Look at me."
I force myself to meet his eyes.
"We almost lost each other," he says. "I'm not going through that again. Whatever comes next, we face it together."
Before I can respond, he leans down and captures my lips in a kiss that steals my breath. It's not the gentle kisses we've shared during his recovery—this is hungry and determined, his fingers threading through my hair as he pulls me closer.
When we finally break apart, he rests his forehead against mine. "Nothing can split us up now," he whispers. "Nothing."
"Nothing," I echo against his lips, my heart drumming a frantic rhythm in my chest.
I lean in for more, our kisses quickly shifting from tender to desperate. His fingers tangle in my hairas mine slip beneath his hospital gown to find the warm skin underneath. It's been weeks since we've touched like this, not since we were in New York, but my body remembers exactly how we fit together, like we were designed as two halves of the same whole. The familiar electricity sparks between us, making my skin tingle wherever we connect. My heart pounds against my ribs as I trace the planes of his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse beneath my fingertips. Even with the lingering scent of antiseptic in the air, he still smells like himself - that intoxicating mix of cologne and something uniquely him that makes my head spin. Every brush of his lips against mine feels like coming home after being lost for far too long.
Harald pulls me closer, his strength returning in ways that make my breath catch. His mouth trails down my neck, finding that spot just below my ear that makes me shiver.
"Missed this," he murmurs against my skin. "Missed you."
"We shouldn't," I gasp halfheartedly, even as my hands betray my words, exploring the planes of his chest. "You're still recovering."
He laughs against my collarbone, the vibration sending sparks through my body. "Pretty sure this counts as physical therapy."
