Chapter 3

The air in the ice rink still tasted of cold metal and sweet vanilla, a bizarre, intoxicating cocktail that clung to my skin long after we had left the boards. The gala was winding down, the chatter of the elite fading into a low, polite hum as staff began the slow process of clearing the room. I had retreated to the lounge area, a warm, plush sanctuary separated from the biting chill of the ice by heavy velvet drapes. The space was decorated for the holidays, though the extravagance here was muted compared to the main hall. Strings of warm, golden fairy lights were draped loosely over the back of a velvet chaise lounge, casting a soft, amber glow over the scattered remnants of the evening’s champagne flutes. I sat there, shivering slightly, though it wasn’t entirely from the cold. My thighs still ached from the awkward, wide-legged stance I had maintained while trying to keep my balance on the ice, and my calves burned with the dull, throbbing fatigue of muscle failure. I had tried to be graceful, to be the perfect daughter for the occasion, but I had stumbled twice, and once, more embarrassingly, I had fallen entirely.