Page 77 of Defying the Crown

"Your sister is terrifying," I say fondly, thinking of how quickly Ella became my fierce protector. Her fiery personality packed into that petite frame is something to behold. "Did you see her face when that reporter asked if I was a 'gold digger'? I swear the temperature dropped ten degrees with just one look from her."

Harald's laugh echoes through his chest against my back, the vibration warm and comforting as the evening air cools around us. "I thought the poor man was going to spontaneously combust when she reminded him how you saved my life while others worried about saving face. That's Ella for you—five-foot-three of pure energy and spite when someone threatens people she cares about. She's adopted you into the fold rather quickly, you know. I haven't seen her this protective of anyone besides me since we were children."

The memory of those hospital days hits me suddenly—white walls and antiseptic smells, the beeping machines and Harald's too-pale face against starched pillows—and I feel the weight of everything that's happened settle in my chest like a stone. My breath catches slightly as reality washes over me in waves.

"It's really happening, isn't it? All of this... it's real." My voice comes out softer than intended, tinged with wonder and a hint of lingering disbelief.

"Having second thoughts?" Harald tries to sound casual, but I hear the fear underneath, the slight tremor in his voice betraying the vulnerability he rarely shows to anyone else. His fingers tense almost imperceptibly against my back.

"Hey." I turn in his arms, shifting my weight to straddle his lap properly, my knees pressing into the cushions on either side of his thighs. I reach up to cup his face, making sure he's looking directly into my eyes when I speak. "I watched you almost die because you thought you had to choose between duty and love. Those were the worst days of my life, sitting there wondering if I'd ever see your eyes open again. I'm not going anywhere, Harald. Never again." I stroke my thumb across his cheekbone, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips.

He pulls me closer until our foreheads touch, his breath warm against my lips. The scent of his cologne—something expensive and subtle that I've come to associate with safety—wraps around me like an embrace.

"Even though being with me means cameras and protocols and a whole country watching our every move?" His voice wavers slightly.

"Even though," I confirm, running my fingers along the nape of his neck where his hair curls softly against my skin. I feel a swell of certainty in my chest, solid and unshakeable. Then I grin, trying to lighten the moment that threatens to drown us both in emotion. "Besides, according to Twitter, I'm already basically a princess. You should see the fan accounts—they've got our wedding planned and everything."

"Prince Consort," he corrects automatically, his politician's precision breaking through even now. Then he freezes, eyes widening as he realizes what he's said—the future he's just inadvertently acknowledged. A flush creeps up his neck, and I can feel his heartbeat quicken beneath my palm.

My heart skips. "Harald..."

"Not today," he whispers against my lips. "But soon. Very soon."

I answer him with a kiss that feels like coming home.