Chapter 3 All Eyes on Me
ADELINE POV
If Reid scented his mate tonight, I hope it isn’t me.
Sloanne stands beside Reid and the others, clutching his arm. They look born to own the ice. Reid, however, is looking straight at me.
Rime shifts restlessly. “Mate.”
No. I can’t scent anything until I turn nineteen next Saturday. Rime has to be wrong.
“Then why are we avoiding him?”
Because nothing good happens when Sloanne thinks I have something she wants. She hates being outshined.
Home will be hell. But if I pass tonight, I get invited to Crown Training Camp, away from home, where I can just play hockey.
“Since when do you have a fucking miracle? How dare you hide it from me?” Mira’s voice explodes through our link. She’s ahead, glaring back at me.
“I don’t have a miracle.”
“Addie. You just ripped the Crown Stick out of a moonstone that’s held it for generations.”
“I have no idea what happened.” I tighten my grip and smile. “But hey, at least now I have a stick.”
“First assessment,” the official calls. “Skating control. Show your best speed, edge work, stopping, and transitions. Your scores will be combined with the remaining assessments.”
Players move to the starting marks. Sloanne goes first and launches at the whistle.
I hate admitting it, but Sloanne is good. She carves clean lines through the cones, then stops sharply enough to spray ice against the boards. Her miracle, Ice Edge, flashes pale silver-blue beneath her blades, shaping the ice so she can cut at angles no ordinary skater could hold.
Cheers rise from the stands. Dad stands and smiles proudly. Even an official nods. “Excellent control, Sloanne.”
Sloanne pushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear like she expected nothing less.
The scoreboard flashes her result. 1. SLOANNE WESTCOTT
My throat tightens. This is what years of being allowed to play looks like.
“Adeline Monroe.”
I push forward. I may not be as polished as Sloanne, but I’ve practiced these turns in secret hundreds of times. I can do this.
My first two turns are clean. I cut through the cones faster than I expected, losing only a fraction of speed on the final transition before driving through the finish.
The official writes without smiling.
Mira flashes me a thumbs-up. “You’re fine.”
The next two assessments are rougher. The Crown Stick handles differently from anything I’ve used, and I keep overcorrecting. I fumble the puck twice, and the stick nearly slips from my hands during a turn. During shooting, Sloanne hits all five targets. I hit four. Several players still outscore me.
I can’t tell if pulling the Crown Stick saved my chance or ruined it.
The official calls the final assessment.
“Reaction sprint. Two players at a time. Follow the puck. First player to gain control and cross the scoring line takes the higher score.”
Sloanne steps forward beside me smiling. “We finally get to play together.”
I grip the Crown Stick tighter. The puck launcher sits between us. Neither of us knows where it’ll fire.
The whistle blows.
The puck shoots left. Sloanne moves first and reaches it before I’m halfway there. The next goes right. She beats me again.
Sloanne smiles as we reset. “You should’ve stayed home, Addie. Wolves without miracles don’t belong on the ice.”
“Prove her wrong,” Rime growls.
The third whistle blows.
The puck shoots, clips the barrier, and changes direction.
I move.
One second Sloanne’s ahead of me. Then I surge past her. Wind tears past my face as I reach the puck first and hook it onto my blade.
I nearly crash into the boards because I’m moving too fast.
The whistle blows a second later as the officials immediately turn toward the timing screen. Their expressions change. “That’s the fastest acceleration recorded tonight.”
Sloanne has gone completely still.
Mira screams through our link. “I FUCKING KNEW IT!”
“One more run,” the official says. “I want to verify the time.”
Sloanne is already moving back toward the starting line. Whatever shock was on her face disappears beneath determination, like she can erase what just happened if she beats me badly enough this time.
My heart is still hammering. I was waiting for Sloanne to move first because I assumed she would always be faster. Now I know I can catch her.
At the whistle, Sloanne launches hard enough that Ice Edge flashes beneath her skates. She cuts across me, forcing me wide. Instinct tells me to slow down, but I don’t.
I push harder. Fighting her for the inside line will only slow me down. I take the wider one instead, still closing the distance between us. Sloanne glances over her shoulder. Her eyes widen. I pass her. I reach the puck first and carry it over the scoring line. Sloanne stops so sharply that ice sprays across the surface.
The murmurs around the rink explode at once.
“Did she just outrun Sloanne?”
“Nobody here has ever beaten Sloanne’s speed.”
“Who even is she?”
The official checks the timer. “Same result. Record it.”
The Reaction Sprint ranking updates.
1. ADELINE MONROE
2. SLOANNE WESTCOTT
My breath catches. I’ve never seen my name above Sloanne’s before.
I look toward the stands, expecting Dad to be smiling the way he did for Sloanne. I want him to look proud of me too. But his smile is gone, and he’s staring at me with the same expression he wore the day he told me I was done with hockey.
My stomach sinks. I’m definitely in trouble.
The next players take their turns, and they’re really good. Instead of making me nervous, watching them makes me want to learn everything they know and to get better.
The final whistle blows, and the officials begin collecting their score sheets. My legs ache and I still don’t want the selection to end. Players begin drifting off the ice when I notice Reid coming straight toward me.
My pulse jumps. Rime surges forward. “Mate.”
Sloanne notices too. Whatever relief I felt after the selection disappears immediately.
I scan the players nearby. Mira’s across the rink, too far to reach before Reid catches me. Kellan, Asher, Nolan, Beckett—absolutely not. Anyone Reid knows is useless.
Then I spot someone standing alone nearby.
He’s tall, dark-haired, and outside Reid’s circle.
I skate straight toward him. “Hey.”
He turns to me, one brow lifting slightly. “Hello.”
“So... how did you do? What rank did you get?” I ask and pretend this is completely normal.
His expression shifts, but I can’t tell whether he’s confused or amused. “I wasn’t ranked.”
“Oh.” I glance back. Reid’s still coming. “Then what position do you play?”
“What the fuck are you doing? Do you even know who you’re talking to?” Mira links me.
“No. Who?” I link back.
“THAT’S NICHOLAS REIGNFROST.” Mira screams. “THE CROWN PRINCE OF REIGNFROST.”
My stomach drops. I heard the official announce the King and Crown Prince earlier, but between the Crown Stick and Reid trying to link me, I barely got a look at them.
I must look horrified because Nicholas’s expression shifts slightly. The corner of his mouth lifts.
“Still want to know what position I play?”
Hockey Notes
[Edge: The inner or outer side of a skate blade used to turn, stop, and control direction on the ice.]
