Page 64 of Defying the Crown
A flight attendant approached with offers of champagne and snacks, but her words washed over me like white noise. Jayda handled everything, her protective presence shielding me from the need to respond.
As the jet took off, I pressed my forehead against the cool window, watching New York disappear beneath the clouds. Somewhere across the ocean, Harald was lying in a hospital bed because of me. Or was it because of his lies? The thoughts swirled together until they became indistinguishable, a tempest of worry and hurt that consumed everything else.
I don't know how long I've been staring out this window. Time stretches and compresses like an elastic, measured only by the steady thrum of the engines and Jayda's occasional gentle touches on my arm.
"Here." Jayda presses a bottle of water into my hands. "You need to drink something."
I lift the bottle mechanically to my lips, the water tasteless as it slides down my throat. My reflection in the window catches my eye—dark circles under hollow eyes, skin sallow against the darkness beyond the glass. I look almost as bad as Harald did in that photo.
Harald. My chest tightens at the thought of him. Five weeks of silence between us, and now this. Now he's lying in a hospital bed, refusing food, barely conscious. And here I am, racing across an ocean because his sister showed up at my door with pictures that made me feel terrified.
"You should try to sleep," Jayda murmurs, draping a cashmere blanket over my shoulders. The soft fabric probably costs more than my monthly rent, but luxury means nothing when my mind keeps circling back to Harald's vacant eyes in that hospital photo.
"I can't." My voice cracks. It's the first thing I've said since we boarded.
"I know, babe." Jayda squeezes my hand. "But we've got eight hours until Copenhagen, and you're going to need your strength."
Copenhagen. The word alone sends a fresh wave of anxiety through me. What will I even say to him? 'Sorry I ghosted you after finding out you were secretly a prince, but could you please start eating again?' The absurdity of it all hits me, and I might have laughed if I wasn't so scared.
Across the aisle, I catch Ella watching me with concern in her eyes. She looks away quickly, tapping something on her phone, probably handling whatever royal crisis our impending arrival will cause.
I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders and close my eyes, not to sleep but to escape the pitying looks and the weight of what waits for us in Denmark. But even in darkness, I can't escape the image of Harald in that hospital bed, or the crushing guilt that maybe, just maybe, I'm partly responsible for putting him there.
The flight attendant approaches again, this time with a tray of food that makes my stomach turn. Jayda intercepts her before she can reach me, murmuring something I can't quite catch. I'm grateful—the thought of eating anything right now seems impossible.
"Daniel." Ella's voice startles me. I hadn't noticed her move to the seat across from us. "The doctors say he asks for you, when he's lucid enough to speak."
My throat constricts. I stare at my hands, unable to meet her gaze. "How long has he been...?" I can't finish the question.
"Two weeks since he stopped eating entirely." Her voice wavers slightly. "The medical team had to intervene three days ago when he tried to—" She breaks off, composing herself. "We almost lost him. They've put him into a medical coma and have him on feeding tubes now."
Jayda's hand finds mine again, squeezing tight. I'm glad she's here; I don't think I could handle this alone.
"Your Highness," a man in a dark suit—one of the security detail, I think—approaches Ella with a tablet. "The Prime Minister is requesting an update."
Ella sighs, rising from her seat. "Excuse me," she says, but pauses before leaving. "Daniel... thank you for coming. I know this isn't easy."
Easy? Nothing about this is easy. Not the way my heart feels like it's being squeezed in a vice, not the guilt churning in my stomach, not the memory of Harald's last text message that I never answered. I close my eyes again, but the words are burned into my memory:"I don't expect forgiveness, but I wanted you to know: Jeg elsker dig. I love you. Always."
"Hey." Jayda's voice is soft. "You're shaking."
Am I? I look down at my hands and realize she's right. The tremors have gotten worse since we took off.
"What if—" My voice breaks. I swallow hard and try again. "What if we're too late?"
"We won't be," Jayda says firmly. "That stubborn prince of yours has held on this long. He's waiting for you."
I lean my head against her shoulder, letting her steady presence anchor me as the jet carries us through the night. Somewhere ahead, beyond the darkness outside my window, Denmark waits. And Harald.
God, Harald. Please hold on. I'm coming.
Chapter 26
Daniel
As I step into the stark, sterile environment of the hospital, the oppressive air weighs heavily on my chest. The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting a harsh glare on the tiled floors that gleam from too-frequent cleaning. The smell of antiseptic lingers, mixing with the faint scent of flowers from a discarded bouquet.
With each step I take, my heart races, a mix of anxiety and dread pooling in my stomach. What will I find beyond the well-polished reception desk? Will I still see that familiar warmth and spark in Harald's eyes, or will this place be the end of everything we could have built together? The thought strikes me across the face, cold and unyielding reality suddenly rearing its ugly head.
