Page 112 of Ice Princesses
I freeze.
Not visibly. Not enough for anyone watching to notice.
But inside my body, everything comes to a screeching halt.
I turn my head slightly, slow enough for it to feel intentional.
“For what?” I ask, dumbfounded.
John smiles, completely unaware. “Word is you’re stepping into a bigger role soon. With Armand Paulsen retiring from his position as president of the skating union, effective immediately… There’s talk, Princess.”
Not surprise. Recognition.
Of course. Of course they would do this here.
Now. On this stage.
I keep my expression neutral and controlled, just the way I was taught by my mother. “I think people like to speculate,” I say evenly, my hands still folded neatly on my lap. I smile. “Everyone loves a little gossip.”
Nina is watching me closely now, blinking rapidly, and then she stills completely, her mouth pressing into a thin line so reminiscent of our mother, calculating the fallout.
John laughs lightly. “Well, if it happens, you heard it here first, folks.”
I don’t respond. Because if I do, it won’t be the version of me who belongs in this chair.
The red light flickers off.
And just like that, I’m done pretending.
CHAPTER 39
CECILIA
The scores takea while to come in.
Long enough for the adrenaline to give way to a heavier pull low in my chest. It refuses to move even when everything else does.
Rodrigo is still breathing hard next to me, his hands gripping the edge of his knees, eyes fixed on the screen and trying to will the numbers into something specific if he stares long enough.
“Hey,” I murmur, leaning slightly towards him. “Breathe.”
He nods, quick, acknowledging my words but not fully processing them. I let my hand settle briefly against his back, grounding him, before I move it to his shoulder.
Sandra shifts on my other side, already watching the protocol and calculating placements, deductions, everything that matters now that the skate is over.
I don’t. Not really. Because I know this was the best he’s ever done.
The numbers confirm it a second later.
Rodrigo exhales sharply, something between a laugh and disbelief, and then he’s turning to me, grabbing onto my arm like he needs to anchor himself to something real.
“You did that,” I tell him, because he did. Because this belongs entirely to him.
He shakes his head immediately. “No, Ceci. We?—”
“No,” I cut in, softer this time. “You.”
Sandra huffs out a quiet breath next to us. “You can argue about it later. For now, take the score, Rodri.”
