Chapter 87 - The Weight of the New Flag

​The final notes of the cello faded into the university rink's gélido air, leaving only the echo of Bek's measured panting in the center of the oval. The brunette braked to a sudden halt, kicking up a small trail of frost with his left blade. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, feeling a warm vibration in his chest that had nothing to do with physical exertion. He had just completed the entire choreographic sequence of his free program, and though his right ankle still protested with a subtle pinch upon every landing, the fluidity of his movements bore no remaining trace of the oppressive chains of St. Petersburg.