Page 8 of Chasing Gold, Catching Her

Pike’s clapping followed each element, before and after, and Alisa and Lev, like conditioned athletes, had long developed a reflex to it, responding instantly to every cue without hesitation.

All that remained was the pair spin, the final element that required them to show different positions within one continuous rotation.

Lev crouched slightly and took Alisa firmly by the waist and hip, guiding her into the spin, opening her body into a graceful position, almost like a flying line, her back arched cleanly, her arms extended outward at shoulder level, her head falling back as she rotated, and for a moment it looked effortless, as if gravity had no hold on her at all.

As they exited the spin, they changed direction sharply, moving into another variation, their bodies lowering together as they held onto each other, rotating closer to the ice this time, almost touching it, maintaining control while staying low, which made the movement look even more difficult.

Then, without breaking the flow, Lev lifted her again, this time raising her up through a standing position and carrying her through the air in a series of smooth, slightly shifting turns, while Alisa extended her arms outward and let her body follow the motion, rotating with him before he carefully brought her back down to the ice.

After that came the step sequence, a series of connected movements across the ice that tested their precision and synchronization more than anything else. Skating in close hold, with her back to Lev, Alisa guided the direction, which was unusual, since the man usually led, but here she controlled the path, and it was one of her favorite parts of the program.

They moved across the ice in intricate patterns, changing edges, turning and stepping in perfect rhythm, their blades cutting clean lines into the surface, and by this point there was almost no strength left in their bodies after all the jumps and lifts, but they still had to finish the program with control and elegance.

On the final sequence, they rotated together once more, staying close, their hands joined, and then came the ending, where Alisa bent backward deeply, her arms dropping down in a soft arc, while Lev leaned toward her as if to kiss her, pausing just enough to hold the moment, before lightly touching her cheek as she rose again.

“Well done! Well done!” the coach repeated, clapping sharply.

They both exhaled heavily, almost at the same time, smiles breaking through the exhaustion, because today’s training had gone as well as it possibly could, and with only a few days left before the championship, everything was beginning to fall into place.

Chapter 3

Two days before the Nordic Ice Trophy competition

Alisa was dreaming that she was practicing single jumps… alone… lutz, lutz, lutz, quadruple lutz, like a mantra repeating in her mind, again and again, entering the jump over and over again, because it was one of the most difficult ones in figure skating. Taking off and landing on the same foot, and even rotating in the opposite direction from most other jumps, and she had been working on it for years, yet she had never performed a lutz in a pair with Lev, it had always remained something of her own, part of her individual training, something she faced alone.

And in the dream, she was alone on the ice.

The stands were dark, completely empty, and only a single spotlight followed her, isolating her in the vast space, while the blades of her skates cut across the ice, collecting fine shards that scratched softly with every movement, every step, every landing echoing loudly through the entire arena, as if the rink itself was listening to her.

Music was playing, bright and vivid, but nothing could drown out the sound of her own heartbeat, not even the loud jazz flowing from invisible speakers.

She had never skated to jazz before, and that was what felt so strange in the dream, but at the same time it felt right, almost comforting, as if she were floating above the ice, rising higher with every jump, carried by something light and unfamiliar, while the rhythm wrapped around her, warming something inside her that usually remained frozen.

The music slowly faded, but she did not stop.

She kept jumping.

Again and again and again, repeating the same motion, the same takeoff, the same rotation, the same landing, over and over without pause, as if she could not break free from it, as if the jump itself had taken control of her body, and she continued, faster, sharper, more desperate, until her breath caught somewhere in her chest—

—and she woke up.

She sat upright in bed, clutching the blanket tightly in her fists, trying to steady her breathing, as if she had just finished another intense training session inside the dream, as if her body had not rested at all.

After a moment, she swore quietly under her breath, already knowing that sleep would not come back.

Alisa got out of bed and went to the bathroom, turning on the water as hot as she could, not even bothering to switch on the light, and stood under the stream in complete darkness, eyes closed, letting the heat and steam fill her lungs, trying to ground herself in something real.

She did not notice how much time passed.

When the alarm finally rang from the bedroom, she stepped out of the shower, wrapped herself in a warm white hotel towel, and sat down on the bed, staring into the darkness beyond the window, where even the sun had not yet risen.

But she was already awake.

* * *

They arrived at training ahead of everyone, right at 5:30 again. The coach had said that this session would be the toughest, a morning run meant to push them to the absolute limit, and then a rest day would follow before the competition, so it was crucial to give everything now. That’s why they were here before anyone else. The ice stretched out before them, completely untouched, not a single scratch from blades. Alisa stepped onto it, letting the skates carry her through a warm-up lap, feeling the familiar glide beneath her.

Lev was still speaking with the coach, but Alisa was already lost in her own world, skating simply to feel, to get her blood moving, surrounded by silence except for the sound of blades slicing the ice and her steady breaths. The icy air filled her lungs, and the black training dress she wore flowed beneath her Russian national team sweatshirt. She adored that dress, not for its material of course, not for its cost, but because her grandmother had made it for her before she passed away. Every seam, every pattern, every inch had been crafted by her hands, perfectly tailored to Alisa’s style.