Page 39 of Defying the Crown
I follow his lead, surprised when the sugar dissolves instantly on my tongue. "It's just... gone! How do they make this?"
Daniel laughs, the sound warming me from the inside. "You're like an alien discovering Earth for the first time."
We wander past game booths where people throw balls at bottles and toss rings onto pegs. A carousel spins nearby, children laughing as painted horses bob up and down. Everything feels wonderfully ordinary and extraordinary at the same time.
"Look," Daniel points toward the massive Wonder Wheel dominating the skyline. "We have to ride that."
I nod, though a flutter of nervousness passes through me. In Denmark, I always have security protocols, risk assessments. Here, I'm just a man on a date, about to trust my safety to a massive spinning wheel that's probably older than my father.
Daniel notices my hesitation. "Hey, we don't have to if you don't want to."
I straighten my shoulders. "No, I want to experience everything. Lead the way."
As we join the queue, I can't help wondering what Erik would think seeing me here. I'd manage to convince him and my security detail to stay behind at the hotel, promising to be on my best behaviour. Meanwhile I'm the Crown Prince of Denmark, standing in line for a carnival ride, fingers sticky with cotton candy, without a care in the world beyond the beautiful man beside me.
The line for the Wonder Wheel moves steadily forward, and I find myself studying the massive structure with both awe and trepidation. Its steel frame reaches toward the sky, swinging cars dangling from its circumference.
"Is this safe?" I ask, immediately regretting how sheltered I sound.
Daniel chuckles. "Totally. This thing's been running since 1920. It's survived wars, storms, everything. Classic New York landmark."
"So it's very old, that's what you're saying," I deadpan, but squeeze his hand to show I'm joking.
We climb aboard one of the blue cars that Daniel explains are the "swinging" ones. As we ascend, the car sways gently, offering breathtaking views of the beach, boardwalk, and sprawling city beyond.
"This is magnificent," I breathe, taking in the panorama. The vastness of the ocean stretches to the horizon on one side, while New York's concrete jungle rises on the other. It's a perspective I've never seen before—not from royal helicopters, not from diplomatic viewpoints carefully curated for state visits.
When our car pauses at the top, I turn to Daniel. "Don't you have work today? It's Monday, isn't it?"
A mischievous grin spreads across his face. "Called in sick."
"You did? For me?"
"Of course for you." Daniel straightens in his seat, clears his throat, and adopts a pitiful, croaking voice. "Hi Cassandra? It's Daniel. I'm so sorrycough coughbut I seem to have caught somethingsniffleand I don't think I'll make it in today."
He clutches his stomach dramatically, hunching over. "Yes, ma'am, I know the Taylor account needs processingwheezebut I'm afraid I might be contagious. Wouldn't want to infect the whole office. I think it might be strep."
Daniel finishes with a theatrical sneeze and returns to his normal voice. "She totally knew I was faking, but what could she do?"
Something warm unfurls in my chest. No one has ever skipped responsibilities for me before. People rearrange entire schedules to accommodate my royal duties, but no one has ever simply chosen to be with me over their obligations.
"You risked the wrath of your tyrant boss for me?"
"Worth it," Daniel says simply, his eyes meeting mine. "Every second."
I lean forward, bridging the small gap between us in our swinging car atop the Wonder Wheel. My lips find Daniel's, soft and warm against mine. This isn't just a kiss—it's everything I can't say with words: how much this ordinary day means to someone who's never known ordinary, how his simple act of calling in sick for me touches something profound in my royal, regimented heart.
My fingers brush his cheek as I deepen the kiss, trying to pour every ounce of gratitude and wonder into this moment. The car sways gently beneath us, suspended between earth and sky, just as I'm suspended between two worlds—the crown prince and just Harald, the man who gets to experience cotton candy and Ferris wheels and playing hooky on a Monday.
When we finally part Daniel's eyes are bright, his cheeks flushed and his lips puffy. The wind tousles his dark hair, and behind him stretches the vast Atlantic—the same oceanthat connects his home to mine, though he doesn't yet know how far that distance truly is.
"What was that for?" he asks, his voice slightly breathless.
"For being the first person who's ever chosen just... me." The words come out more vulnerable than I intended. "Not for duty or obligation or appearances. Just me."
Daniel's expression softens. He takes my hand, running his thumb across my knuckles. "Well, get used to it. I'd choose you over spreadsheets and Cassandra's jowly disapproval any day."
I laugh, the sound carried away by the sea breeze. For this perfect moment, I'm not thinking about the crown, the responsibilities waiting across the ocean, or the truth I still haven't told him. I'm just a man, kissing another man at the top of a Ferris wheel, feeling more alive than I have in years.
