Page 16 of Ice Princesses
“They’re in the corners,” I continue. “The teams without matching jackets. The skaters who split ice time betweenthree different rinks because it’s cheaper. The coaches standing at the boards for hours, patching together training with whatever they can get so that their athletes can stay on the ice.”
Armand listens without interrupting.
When I finish, he exhales through his nose.
“The federations invest in stability,” he says. “Not experiments, Princess.”
I push my sleeves up my forearms.
“I can understand that,” I reply. “But talent doesn’t always come from stable places.”
“That may well be true,” he replies calmly. “But the association answers to donors, broadcasters, national committees. Stability is what keeps the sport functioning.”
Functioning.
My gaze drifts back up to the rafters for a second.
Pierce. Pierce. Pierce.
“Functioning for who?” I ask.
Armand doesn’t answer right away. Instead he glances towards the rink entrance as if checking the time.
“Isabella,” he adds gently. “You should take a moment and understand the optics.”
The optics of what? Supporting athletes who deserve it? Giving someone a chance who might actually change the sport if they had the resources? The argument builds behind my teeth, loud and useless. I swallow it down. Armand doesn’t get to decide whether Ascend exists. Maybe it will fail. At least I’ll know I tried.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He studies my face for a moment longer, decidingwhether to push further. Then he steps back from the boards.
“I hope your summer is productive,” he says.
I watch him walk towards the exit doors, his footsteps echoing softly through the empty building. The door closes behind him with a dull metallic thud that reverberates through the rink and disappears into the ceiling.
For a few seconds, I don’t move.
The cold has worked its way fully into my legs now, settling in the muscles the way it used to before early morning practices when I was sixteen and convinced that if I just stayed on the ice long enough, the jumps would eventually listen to me.
I push off the boards and glide slowly around the perimeter. Nothing fancy. Just long, easy strokes that carry me from one end of the rink to the other. My edges cut shallow arcs across the untouched ice, the sound steady and familiar under my blades.
The cold settles into my lungs. This used to be the only place where my brain could go totally quiet. Right here in the dark, before anyone could interrupt me.
Now, it mostly gives me space to think things through.
“Izzy.” Nina’s voice carries easily across the ice.
I slow to a stop. She’s standing just inside the boards with a coffee in one hand and her phone in the other. She has an oversized Lake Jasper crewneck on, something I’m sure she shoplifted from the gift shop at the rink almost a decade ago.
“You’re late.”
“The rink doesn’t open until six.”
She rolls her eyes and steps through the gate. Unlike me, she’s in her canvas sneakers, which means the second she takes two careful steps onto the ice, she immediately loses whatever fragile sense of balance she thought she had.
“Jesus—”
She flails once, regains herself, and then glares at me like this is somehow my fault.
