Chapter 35
EVA
The kitchen is quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge. Millie and I sit across from each other, both cupping warm mugs of cocoa. The day has stretched long, but this is our little ritual.
This is the only part of the last three days that still feels normal.
Millie blows on her drink. “You know what’s going to be amazing this year?”
“The parade?” I venture.
It’s an easy bet.
“Yes!” she exclaims. “They’re bringing in dancers from Pombrio, and the giants are supposed to be taller than ever.”
Her excitement tugs a smile from me. “Really? Those things already blocked half the duchy last year.”
“I know!” She grins, her braces flashing. “They’ll have new horses, too. étienne said the stables in Aymon are training a whole team just for it. Imagine Comète in there with them!”
I laugh softly, but there’s a pinch in my chest. “Imagine indeed.”
“The doctor said I could ride, remember?” She tilts her head, suspicious.
“I do. He also listed more precautions than when you ride for practice.”
She waves a hand. “Sure. No problem. It’s gonna be fine, Maman!”
Her confidence is infectious, and I tell myself, Yes, everything will be fine. She deserves this joy. She deserves it all—the parade, the horse, the estate, the safety wrapped around it, an adolescence untainted by shame…
And that’s when I decide.
I’ll tell her the truth someday, but not now.
Not when she’s fourteen and still thrilled by ghastly papier-maché giants floating through the streets.
Not when she’s still weaving a childhood from cocoa nights and parade dreams. Let her grow up first. After she’s twenty, she’ll be ready to hear the truth.
She’ll be strong enough to bear the weight of what her father did, and what that means for her place here.
This isn’t her burden until then. It’s mine.
Millie stirs her cocoa. “Do you think Uncle Alex will come to Rohinn for the parade?”
I hide a smile. If she was trying to sound nonchalant, she failed miserably. Perhaps I’ll nudge her toward drama club after Christmas.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” I say.
“And for my anointment?”
I spread my hands. “We’ll send him an invite as soon as the bishop’s office confirms the date.”
“He’ll come,” she declares. “He’s family, right? And he’s kind of… nice.” She shrugs. “I mean, for a boomer.”
I bite my cheek. “He’s not a boomer, Millie. Boomers were born shortly after World War II. Grandma Brigitte is a boomer.”
“Ooh, I see.” She nods slowly, feigning deep revelation. “I thought everyone old was a boomer.”
I laugh. And just like that, the memory of Alex standing in the dining room, shaking Millie’s hand, and congratulating her on her victory, which he called fair and square, sneaks in.
The picture sharpens. His hand brushes mine as he passes me a folder. I feel his heat against my skin. I almost drown in the quiet intensity of his gaze as he vows never to contest the ruling.
God, how I miss him!
I wrap my hands tighter around the mug.
If I tell Alex the truth about Rodolphe, I’ll make him swear Millie doesn’t find out, not until she’s ready.
We could give her an alternative story to explain why Rohinn reverted to Alex.
We could tell her the verdict was overturned after it came out Judge Vautrin had been forced to recuse himself.
Neat, simple, believable. Millie already knows about the last-minute judge swap.
The story would make sense to her. It would protect her.
Cut the sterile fantasies, Eva!
I’m not telling Alex. Even if he’d shield her. Even if I trust him more than I’ve ever trusted anyone. Too much is at stake. Millie’s future, her health, and her well-being can’t hang on her uncle’s goodwill.
“Maman?” Millie’s voice pulls me back. “You’re staring at your cocoa.”
I force a smile. “Just making sure it’s not all chocolate sludge at the bottom.”
“Uh-huh.” She rolls her eyes, unconvinced.
Hmm, it looks like my poker training isn’t enough. Maybe Millie isn’t the only one who needs drama lessons.
“Quit worrying about the parade, please?” she begs. “Can you promise me that?”
I sigh. “I can’t promise I won’t worry, but I can promise I’ll try my best.”
“Fair enough.”
A few minutes later, we load our mugs into the dishwasher and head upstairs. Millie vanishes into her poster-plastered cave, humming something off-key. I cross the hall to my sleek, empty bedroom.
Except it isn’t empty. Someone’s standing by the window, waiting for me.
I recognize him even before I switch on the light.