My Ice Prince

I jumped out of bed and started rummaging through my wardrobe for something to wear tomorrow, so I picked out black jeans, a long pale blue jumper, and brown boots for my feet. I liked choosing outfits, but I hadn't bought any new clothes when I moved to Oxford: I didn't see any point in it, as I'd never worn half my wardrobe, and I'd only brought a lot of clothes for nothing.

Mary got back around nine o'clock in the evening, and I immediately shared my happy news with her.

– Do you want me to ring Harry? He'll take you to London» Mary offered.

«No way!» – I thought with horror.

– Thanks for the offer, but I want to take the bus» I said, afraid that Harry would start flirting again.

Mary didn't persuade me, but suggested we watch another film, and I agreed, putting off reading Chateaubriand for a day or two. We watched the film until one o'clock in the morning, a snotty melodrama (surprisingly, for all my emotionalism, I didn't like to watch melodramas), and then Mary went to bed. I yawned too, said goodnight, and locked myself in my room, impatient for the morning to come.

The fact that I had to go to London saved me the threat of wearing Mary's pajama and shortened my run by twenty minutes, then I showered, changed, got on my bike and rode to the bus station. My coat, the one Mary had worn yesterday, was hanging at home: I couldn't ride in it because it smelt of her, so I put on a light leather jacket, although I could tell from the hats people were wearing that it was quite cold today. When I got to the bus station and hitched my bike to a post, I bought a ticket to London, got on the bus, and fifteen minutes later I was on my way to meet my sister. I was sitting by the window listening to music, and a schoolboy of about twelve was sitting next to me, looking at me every now and then , and I smiled back at him. Soon the guy fell asleep, snuggled up to me, but that amused me.

The time dragged on slowly, and I was literally glued to the window, looking out at the views: it was a deep English autumn, and in half a month it would be winter. The nature was beautiful: the bare trees that had dropped their leaves like foundlings to the ground were mysterious and frowning, as were the heavy grey clouds in the sky. This dreary grey landscape did not subdue my eyes: its slight sadness only delighted me. It was no longer the beauty I had seen in England at the begi

In London, taking hints from passers-by, I reached Big Ben, but Mariszka was not yet there. While I was waiting for her, a nasty little rain, which I disliked so much, began to fall, and my loose, twisted hair lost its volume and turned into a loofah. But despite the weather, my mood was su

«She's late for something» I thought as I looked at my smartphone screen. It was already ten o'clock and twelve minutes. Finally, a couple of minutes later, a black sports car with tinted windows drove up to me, and out of it, with an umbrella in her hands, came Mariszka, as usual, delicate and dazzlingly beautiful: in my opinion, of us three sisters, she was the most perfect and elegant. She was my ideal woman.

I threw myself on her neck.

– Misha! You've blossomed in freedom! – said my sister, looking me over with an appraising glance. – And what a marvellously awful nail polish you have! But you're wet! Where's your umbrella in this beautiful weather?

– It wasn't raining when I drove in» I explained, and slipped under her umbrella. – But I hope you'll keep me warm. I like my nail polish, and I painted my nails especially for you!

– Red nail polish? – gri

But it seemed to me that she didn't want to smile at all: she must have been in a bad mood, but I didn't care, for I was terribly glad to see Mariszka.

We walked around the town, and my sister asked me about my studies, what I was doing, how I was spending my time, who I was talking to, and I told her all the same things I had told my mother. I knew that if Mariszka found out that I was living with Mary, she would get angry or, worse, teach me about life, so, according to the official version, I lived in seclusion, did not communicate with anyone, but watched people and their behaviour. And when my sister asked me, «Have you met Frederik Haraldson» I said, «No. Not once.»

– How is Markus? – I asked, because I knew everything about Mariszka, but almost nothing about her husband.

– 'He's fine,' Mariszka replied briefly.

'Is that all she can say? «It's fine?» – I was surprised at such secrecy.

– 'And Cedric?

– 'He's gone to Russia. And please don't mention him to Markus» she said. Her face became stern and aloof.

– Gone? But you said he had to study at Charles University! – I was astonished at the news: Cédric had dropped out and left?

– Yes, but he changed his mind. Did you hear me? Don't talk about him in front of my husband! Markus is suffering a lot because of his brother's absence. – Mariska's voice was still harsh, but the aloofness on her face was replaced by resentment.

– Since you ask, I won't. It's just weird: Cedric seemed so fixed to me. – I shrugged.

– Fixed! – A mocking smile appeared on my sister's lips. – Okay, let's not talk about that.

– Good.

Mariszka's behaviour discouraged me. I was confused: What had happened to Cedric, or what had he done to make my sister so angry at the mention of him?

We walked on in silence. I didn't know how to break our silence, so I just stared around me. I was embarrassed to be walking next to my favourite sister, but I felt bad and ashamed that my words had led to two close blood relatives with nothing to talk about.

– What about Maria? Did she call you? – Mariszka suddenly broke our silence.

I was glad that she at least asked about something, and that now I could chat carelessly, just to avoid listening to our grave silence.

– Yes, recently. She's in Ottawa now, part-time photographer. Do you know who she's been shooting recently? Some celebrity! Can you believe it? – I tried to say it cheerfully, but all I got was a hysterical squeal.

– Who was it? – My sister asked, pulling a big touchscreen phone out of her purse.

– I don't know who exactly, but I'm sure she's very famous… In Canada» I replied, glancing at what she was doing.

Mariszka started fiddling with her phone, and I turned my head away, pretending like I didn't care that she preferred her big brick phone to talking to her sister.

– How do you fit it in your bag? – I muttered to myself.

– It's very useful, by the way» Mariszka said, and put the phone back in her bag. – Sorry, that was Markus: he texted that he was waiting for us at the restaurant. Let's go to him.

I was surprised at the haste, because we'd only been walking for an hour, but I kept silent: it must have been the plan.

We caught a taxi to the fancy restaurant where Markus met us, and I thought once again that he and my sister were the most beautiful couple in the world, and I remembered that Cedric was nothing like his brother. But my sister's insistence immediately echoed in my mind, and I decided to keep my mouth shut.

Markus and I hugged, and he led us inside the restaurant, but to my amazement, we passed a beautiful hall, went down a dark staircase somewhere, and ended up in the basement, where there was a small but swanky restaurant, and sat down at a table. There were only the three of us in the room.

A waiter appeared next to us. A vampire.

– Three glasses and a bottle of the freshest» Markus told him.

He brought three large wine glasses and a beautiful bottle labelled 'New England'. I had never been to a place like this before, but I understood perfectly: there was fresh blood in the bottle.