Page 14 of Ice Princesses
“Yes,” she says, and her voice is flat, but her attention is real.
I keep it simple. “I’ll see you around,” I say.
Cecilia studies me, then turns to leave.
CHAPTER 5
ISABELLA
“Areyou planning to get up at some point, or should I call someone from facilities to scrape you off the ice?”
The voice carries across the rink before I see him.
I don’t move.
The ice has already worked its way past my clothes and into my spine, the cold spreading slowly through my shoulders and the back of my head where it presses against the surface. My breath leaves small clouds above me that dissolve into the dark rafters.
At five in the morning, the rink lights are still off.
Only the low security strips glow along the walls, faint and bluish, enough to outline the boards and the long shadows of the banners hanging overhead. My eyes have adjusted to the dark now. I can make out the shapes clearly—their long fabric edges barely stirring in the building’s quiet airflow.
Pierce.
Pierce.
Pierce.
My last name appears countless times above the ice in different decades of championship banners. My parents a handful of times. Me, double that amount.
It’s strange. When I was younger, I used to think the banners felt enormous. Heavy with meaning and the absolute proof that something about me mattered. ThatIhad made an impact somehow.
Now they just look like fabric.
“Princess.”
Armand’s voice again, closer this time.
I turn my head slightly, enough to see his silhouette right at the top of the steps. He’s wearing his uniform of power—dark coat, pressed slacks, polished shoes.
He looks transparently annoyed, which almost makes me laugh.
“I’m thinking,” I tell him.
He sighs softly, how people sigh when they think they are being patient. It reminds me of my coach growing up, when my body couldn’t bend how he wanted, even after thousands of repetitions and failed attempts.
“On the ice?”
“It helps.”
He considers that for a moment, then steps through the outer gate and onto the rubber flooring that lines the boards. His footsteps echo loudly in the empty rink.
“I was told you come here early,” he says. “I didn’t realize that meant before sunrise.”
I finally push myself upright and sit on the ice, palmsflat behind me.
The cold is sharper now that I’m moving.
“Force of habit, I guess.”
