[Lavinia's POV—Imperial Balcony—Continuation]
The night did not answer.
Neither did he.
For a heartbeat—just one—I wondered if I had gone too far. If the crown had slipped. If the princess had spoken when she should have remained silent.
Haldor's breath hitched.
Once.
Twice.
But he didn't move an inch. The silence stretched—heavy and terrifying.
Gods… I'm such an idiot. How could I ask something like that?
I swallowed, heat creeping up my neck, my fingers loosening from his uniform as I prepared to step back—
—WHOOSH.
The world shifted.
"Huh—?"
Suddenly, his grip tightened around my waist—firm, steady, unmistakably real. I gasped as the distance of an inch between us vanished, my breath catching when I felt his chest against mine, his warmth surrounding me like a shield.
He leaned down just enough that I could feel his breath on my lips.
"Can I…" he asked, voice rough and unsteady in a way I had never heard before, "…really?"
I looked up at him.
And froze.
