Chapter 117: The Little Strategist Beneath the Ashes
The stone courtyard was cool underfoot before dawn, but Eva stood ready.
Wind whipped through the yew trees at the perimeter as the morning sun bled slowly over the estate. Her gear was light and dark, fitted tightly to her limbs. No lace. No velvet. No silk. Only function.
She missed her ribbons. But she did not ask.
The new instructor arrived three days ago. Not Master Colgrave, who at least had the dignity of silence — this one, Colonel Halden, had eyes like flint and moved with the watchful grace of a man who had seen kingdoms rise and fall.
He had been with Parliament. With Command. With no one, and everyone. His words were spare. His tone, surgical. Eva was not told where her papa Reginald had found him — only that he had once advised the defence ministry and could take down a room of grown men without unbuttoning his cuffs.
He had called her "child" once. She had not flinched.
He had not used the word again.
She ran her drills. She scaled the ropes. She fought with wooden blades until her palms bruised beneath the wraps. Every breath scraped, but she never asked for mercy.
Then, when sweat soaked her back and the morning had broken clean, Colonel Halden laid a cloth - covered board between them — no pieces. Just black ink on folded paper. Each square held a name. Each name, a meaning.
"Today we play war," he said.
Eva sat quietly, her legs crossed beneath her, fingers curled in her lap. She did not ask questions. She only listened.
He called it "the paper game." It looked like chess, but it was something else entirely. Movement was imagined, not shown. Each turn had to be explained aloud. The board was a map. The map was a kingdom. The kingdom was hers to win or lose.
"This is the edge of the B•••••," he said. "This square controls oil routes. This one — n••••••• I•••••• — is storage and supply. You are the e•••••• e•••••. Begin."
Eva stared. Said nothing.
But inside, her mind caught fire.
The game became daily. Sometimes twice. At night, she replayed moves in her dreams. She changed them. Optimized them. The pieces never touched the board, but she knew where they stood. And though she never told him, she knew exactly what he was doing.
She was being trained to command. He disguised it with maps and metaphors, but she saw through the lines. This was strategy for soldiers.
She did not tell Papa she knew.
She did not tell anyone.
But in the quiet between exercises, when Colonel Halden turned his back to chart a move, Eva whispered to herself, "You cannot mold a storm without being burned."
Later that day, her hand still aching from drills, Eva sat nestled in her velvet armchair in the Langford private library, her legs tucked under her, her voice soft and pointed as she scrolled through real - time indices on a tablet nearly too large for her lap.
"Chevron underperformed projections," she murmured to Mère, who stood nearby thumbing through a vintage aviation ledger. "Time to shift the fund to lithium. The C•••••• project is yielding."
Vivienne sipped her elderflower wine. "And the M•••••••• fund?"
"Solid. But I don't like the management. Sloppy filing."
"And so?"
"Buy them."
Vivienne laughed softly and walked over, kissing the crown of Eva's head. "You would dismantle empires before tea."
Eva looked up at her, all lashes and marble solemnity. "Only for you and Ina."
They both turned as Mère entered with her tablet. "The B••••• mining shares are slipping. Political tension again."
Eva pointed to the map. "We'll move into I•••••• and G••••••••. Climate conditions are opening passageways that haven't existed for decades. If we're fast, we'll own access routes. I want the copper veins near S•••••••. Silent acquisitions."
Vivienne raised a brow. "You've been playing too many war games, cherie."
Eva leaned against her arm, a flash of mischief on her lips. "He thinks I'm not paying attention. But I am. I see everything."
Mère reached for her hand. "Do you still want the mine in N•••••?"
"Yes," Eva whispered. "It glitters in my dreams. Gold under frost. It will be the heart of our holdings."
"You'll need Parliament clearance for that," Vivienne said.
Eva only smiled. "Then we'll buy someone who has it."
When night came and the house softened with shadows, Eva curled up on the couch with her tablet in her lap and dialed her Maman.
The call connected.
Evelyn Ainsley, sharply dressed even in her kitchen, smiled warmly from the screen. "Mon trésor. There you are."
Eva's voice immediately brightened. "Maman!"
She held the screen with both hands, eyes wide and shining. "I miss you."
"I miss you too, baby. So very much."
Eva swallowed hard, fighting back tears. "I'm being strong like you said. I never complain, not even when I hate it."
"I know," Evelyn said, her voice softening. "You're my brave girl."
Eva nodded, then sat up straighter, pulling out a small sheet of paper. "I wrote something. A poem. In F•••••. Just for you."
She cleared her throat and recited:
Maman, étoile de mon matin
Lumière douce quand je suis chagrin
Tu es l'ombre dans mon sommeil
La chanson dans chaque réveil
Même loin, je te sens proche
Mon cœur t'appelle sans reproche
Je t'aime au-delà du temps
Je t'aime, simplement, tendrement.
Mom, star of my morning
Soft light when I'm sad
You are the shadow in my sleep
The song in every alarm clock
Even far away, I feel you close
My heart calls you without reproach
I love you beyond time
I love you, simply, tenderly.
When she finished, Evelyn's eyes shimmered. "That was beautiful, my little moon. You always know how to make Maman cry."
"I love you," Eva whispered. "More than any gold or mine or kingdom."
"And I love you more than any power in the world."
*****
Later, when the house had gone quiet and even the flickering lights had dimmed, Eva climbed into Seraphina's lap without a word.
Seraphina sat in the window nook with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her violin case resting against the wall. She opened her arms instantly.
Eva burrowed into her chest.
She trembled.
"What is it, moonbeam?"
Eva's voice broke. "I want him to love me."
Seraphina stilled.
"I want him to see me the way you do," Eva sobbed. "Not as something to sharpen — but someone to hold."
Seraphina kissed the top of her head. "You are not a blade, little moonbeam. You are the light."
"He calls me soft like it's wrong."
"Then softness will be your weapon."
Eva clung tighter. "Why doesn't he kiss me goodnight?"
Seraphina brushed away the tears with her thumb. "Some men confuse distance with strength. But you — your strength is that you feel."
"I want to be kissed too. Like you kiss me."
Seraphina hesitated. "Where?"
Eva's lip trembled. "On my lips. Like in the storybooks. Just once."
Seraphina cupped her cheeks gently and kissed her forehead, her nose, both cheeks, then — softly, reverently — pressed a single kiss to her lips.
Innocent. Warm. Filled with the kind of love that couldn't be taught.
"There," Seraphina whispered. "The whole world in one kiss."
Eva's breath hitched. "I'll give you eleven back."
She kissed Seraphina's cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead over and over, counting aloud. "One… two… three…"
They lost count somewhere around twenty-seven.
Before bed, Eva wrote in her secret journal by candlelight:
The world trains me to be steel.
But I am moonlight in metal form.
Papa does not know the power of gentleness.
But Ina does. And that is enough — for now.
She closed the book.
Slid it beneath her pillow.
And whispered, to no one but the stars:
"I will win every war they give me… but my real home is the arms that never asked me to."