Chapter 4 The Prince and the Nobody

ADELINE POV

“Not just that,” Mira continues, “He’s the youngest player on Reignfrost’s National Hockey Team.” 

I want the ice to split open and swallow me whole. 

Heat rushes straight into my face. “Your Highness,” I blurt out. “I—I didn’t mean—I thought you were—I mean, you weren’t wearing a crown, and I just—”

“Stop talking,” Rime snaps. 

His expression doesn’t change, but the way his eyes crinkle at the corners makes me think he’s enjoying this. Which is worse.

“You thought I was a random player,” he says. 

“I thought you were a very tall random player,” I correct, then immediately want to punch myself. “Who was standing alone. And seemed... approachable.”

He tilts his head, so controlled I suddenly understand why everyone straightened when he entered earlier. He makes the air feel heavier. 

Rime goes unusually still inside me. Not frightened. Just alert, the way she gets around wolves whose presence fills a room before they even speak. 

“That’s okay. I’m Nicholas. And you’re Adeline, right?” His gaze drops briefly toward the rink behind me. “Your acceleration was impressive.”

My mouth opens. “You... noticed that?” 

He nods. “That was good hockey.”

Something warm and terrifying blooms in my chest. 

For years, every good thing I did on the ice somehow came with an explanation for why it didn’t count. I was reckless. I got lucky. The other player was slower. It wouldn’t work against someone with a real miracle.

But I know what happened out there. I trusted my edge. I scored. Someone is looking at what I actually did instead of everything they think I’m missing.

I don’t realize I’m smiling until I feel the ache in my cheeks.

“Thank you,” I say.

Dad, my stepmother, and Sloanne are walking toward us. Dad’s expression turns the warmth in my chest to ice. Sloanne links her arm through his like she’s his daughter and I’m just… someone who stole a stick. 

Dad stops in front of us. 

“Your Highness.” He dips his head. 

“Your daughter skated well.” Nicholas glances at me, then back at Dad. “She has good instincts.” 

My eyes flick to Dad before I can stop myself.  

It’s pathetic how badly I want him to look at me differently now. Just once. Like maybe Nicholas saying it makes it real in a way me begging never could.

A royal guard approaches. “Your Highness.” 

Nicholas turns toward the King waiting near the exit, then looks back at me.  “I have to go. You can keep it.”

I blink. “The Crown Stick?” 

“It chose you.” His eyes return to me one last time. “I hope I see you at Crown Training Camp. Good luck, Adeline.” 

Nicholas turns and heads toward the King. I watch him go, still gripping the Crown Stick against my chest, until Dad’s voice drags me back. “Adeline.” 

“Dad.” My throat is tight. “I know you said I was done, but I had to try. And I know you’re mad, but please, just listen—”

“Inside.” He jerks his head toward the tunnel leading to the locker rooms. “Now.”

Sloanne smiles at me. It’s a small, soft thing, and anyone looking would think she’s being kind. But I see the glint in her eyes.

I skate into the empty tunnel without another word and don’t stop until the corridor widens beyond the rink’s light. 

Dad stands with his arms crossed, the lines around his mouth deeper than I remember. Sloanne hovers behind him, looking appropriately concerned. Perfect daughter. Perfect miracle. Perfect everything.

“I told you hockey was finished,” Dad says. “And yet you came here tonight. In front of the entire pack and the King.” His voice rises, just enough that I flinch. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for me?”

For one stupid second, I thought he might be proud.  

“But I scored.” My voice shakes, but I don’t stop. “I pulled the Crown Stick out of the moonstone. Something no one has done in generations.” 

“That’s enough,” Dad says.

"Why isn't this enough?" My voice comes out sharp. Desperate. "I know I don't have a miracle, but I was good out there. I—”

"YOU EMBARRASSED YOURSELF!" The shout echoes off the tunnel walls. I stumble back a step, more from shock than fear. Dad has never yelled at me like this. "Do you know what it's like watching your daughter throw away every opportunity I've given her for a dream that won't come true?"

"Hockey isn't a dream," I whisper, blinking against the wetness in my eyes.  "It's the only thing I've ever wanted." 

"And what happens next week? When you're, an omega, injured again and there's no miracle to save you?” He shakes his head. "You'll have nothing. You'll be nothing."

“We are not weak,” Rime snarls.

My eyes burn. Maybe that’s what he already thinks I am. I swallow against the ache in my throat. Don’t cry, Adeline. Don’t—

"And if your little stunt tonight makes Sloanne fail to qualify for Crown Training Camp, I won't forgive you. Do you understand me? I won't forgive you."

The words hit harder than the shout. Harder than anything he's ever said to me.

I open my mouth then close it. There's nothing I can say.

Footsteps echo behind him. Mira comes down the tunnel, flanked by Kellan, Asher, Nolan, and Beckett. The pack's golden circle. The last people I want to see.

Mira catches my eye. 

"There you are!" she says it loud enough that Dad and Sloanne both turn. "We've been looking everywhere for you.”

Kellan steps forward. I brace for mockery. “That sprint was insane. I've never seen anyone move that fast.”

“She had you beat, then you just... surged,” Asher adds. “Like a pro.”

“Your edges need polish,” Nolan says. “But your read is ridiculous. Where'd you learn that?”

Beckett whistles. “And the Crown Stick. I thought that was a myth.”

I’ve watched people find Sloanne first in every room.  Tonight, they came looking for me.

"Oh, hey Sloanne," Kellan says. "You were good too. Second place is still impressive."

Sloanne goes still, her fingers whitening around Dad’s arm. 

I should feel victorious.  

Instead, my stomach twists. Praise for me always becomes punishment later.

They move on. Mira squeezes my shoulder as she passes. “Find me later,” she whispers. Then it’s just me and my family again. 

“We should go,” Dad looks at me. “You’ll have to find your own way home, Adeline. Sloanne needs to get checked by the medics. She’s been training hard these past few days.” 

My legs are still trembling from the assessment. My palms are blistered beneath borrowed gloves.  

I wonder if he noticed any of that.

Dad turns to Sloanne, and his expression softens almost immediately. “Come on. Let’s go.” 

My stepmother steps forward. Her smile is gentle. "Adeline, dear," she says. "We're so proud of you tonight. But you have to understand. Sloanne has worked so hard. If your performance affects her chances at Crown Training Camp, well." She sighs. "Your father would be devastated. We all would."

They walk away. None of them look back. I watch Dad put a hand at Sloanne’s back as they leave.  He used to do that with me when I was little.

The arena is emptying. Players leave with their families—parents ruffling hair, coaches clapping shoulders, siblings shoving each other toward the exits.

For a second, I let myself watch them. Then I look away first.

“We can get home ourselves,” Rime says quietly.

“Yeah,” I murmur, even though she’s the only one who can hear me. “We can.”

First, I have to return my borrowed gear—

"Why are you avoiding me?" 

Every muscle in my body goes still. 

Rime lifts her head inside me. “Mate.”

I turn. 

Reid is standing at the mouth of the tunnel.