Chapter 70: In All Her Hours, Eva
Seraphina's Point of View
There was no such thing as free time anymore.
Seraphina had reshaped her life down to the hour—sometimes the minute.
Not because anyone told her to.
Not because she craved achievement.
But because Eva existed.
And everything else bent around her.
*****
Her days began early. Before dawn, most times.
Stretching. Running. Breath control. Precision strikes in the mirror until her knuckles burned.
Then school. Lessons. Tutors who expected nothing less than perfection.
She studied physics like it might one day help her shield Eva from falling glass.
Math as if calculating angles could intercept disaster.
Literature with half a heart—until Eva's poems invaded her notes and softened the pages.
Then more training. Weapons. Grappling.
Then piano. Then etiquette.
And woven between all of it—like silk thread sewn into armor—was Eva.
Eva's snack schedule.
Eva's naptimes.
Eva's moods.
Eva's kisses.
*****
Seraphina started keeping a small planner in her pocket.
Not for her training. Not for school.
But for Eva.
"Eva nap: 2:30 PM (check greenhouse if not in her room)"
"Eva snack: peach slices + rose milk (prepare early)"
"Eva mood: clingy — extra cuddles needed today"
"Eva demand (verbal): at least 4 lip kisses/hour"
"Eva location: lap (preferred), or arms if standing"
"Eva painting: bring extra paper. Don't forget lavender water."
She never showed the planner to anyone. Not even to Eva.
It wasn't for sharing.
It was for survival.
Because balancing a life that belonged to everyone else—while still being hers—was nearly impossible.
And yet Seraphina made it possible.
Because Eva was worth every minute.
*****
She did her homework with Eva in her lap now.
It wasn't efficient. Eva wiggled. Nuzzled. Drooled sometimes.
And kissed her. Every five minutes.
Cheek, cheek, then lips.
Sometimes on command.
Sometimes because she just wanted to.
Seraphina never said no.
Not even when she lost her place reading.
Not even when her hand was cramping and her textbook was slipping off her thigh.
If Eva wanted to kiss her—then everything else could wait.
"Ina," she murmured one afternoon while Seraphina was writing an essay on social theory, "are you done yet?"
"Not yet, Moonlight."
Eva sighed, dramatically flopping against her chest. "Then kiss me. It's boring."
Seraphina smiled, set her pen down, and turned her face. "Where?"
Eva pointed to her lips, expectant. "Right there."
Seraphina kissed her. Slow. Tender. Not like a sister. Not like a friend.
Like someone who had built a world around this small girl and had no intention of ever leaving it.
Eva beamed. "Okay. You may continue."
*****
Lunches were sacred now.
If Seraphina had any say, she and Eva always ate together.
Not in the dining hall.
Not with Uncle Reginald or Aunt Evelyn or anyone else.
Just them.
A small cloth on the garden table.
Crustless sandwiches cut into flowers.
Eva's tea in a porcelain cup she insisted was "only for princesses."
They shared bites sometimes.
Eva fed her peach slices with sticky fingers.
Seraphina wiped her mouth, always gently.
"Do you love me, Ina?" Eva asked once, mouth full of strawberry tart.
"Yes," Seraphina said without hesitation.
"More than school?"
"Yes."
"More than boxing?"
"Of course."
"More than cookies?"
Seraphina chuckled. "That one's close. But yes."
Eva leaned forward and kissed her—lips soft and sugar-sweet.
"Good," she said. "Because I love you the most too. Forever and ever and ever."
And Seraphina had to blink several times before finishing her lunch.
*****
They walked in the park after meals.
Eva wore light blue coats with velvet trim.
She carried her sketchbook like it was a diary, pages covered in trees and clouds and sometimes Seraphina's face, drawn from memory.
"Ina, stop walking. I want to paint you."
"In the middle of the path?"
"Yes."
Seraphina obeyed. She stood still, hands folded neatly, while Eva perched on a bench with serious eyes and a tongue poking slightly from her lips.
"You're very hard to draw," Eva informed her. "You're too pretty. It makes me nervous."
Seraphina didn't know how to respond.
So she said nothing.
And let herself be painted.
*****
Eva painted with her feet dangling, toes bare despite the cold.
Seraphina kept a blanket folded nearby.
She always wrapped it around Eva's legs once the light began to fade.
The air turned golden.
The birds hushed.
And Seraphina watched her—quietly, lovingly—while pretending to read a book she hadn't touched in days.
"Ina," Eva whispered once, turning the page, "will you always stay?"
Seraphina looked up. "Stay where?"
"With me. Always. Even when I'm bigger. Even when I'm boring."
Seraphina closed the distance between them, kneeling beside her.
"You'll never be boring."
"And you'll never leave?"
"Never."
"Swear?"
"I swear."
Eva leaned forward, eyes wide and shimmering. "Kiss?"
Seraphina kissed her.
Soft. Simple. True.
*****
Nightfall came like a tide she could never outrun.
And still, Seraphina worked.
Training by moonlight.
Studying by candlelight.
Writing essays at midnight.
But always—always—with Eva somewhere in her mind.
As warmth.
As reason.
As gravity.
*****
She didn't tell anyone how tired she was.
Not even herself.
Because if she stopped to feel it—she might crumble.
So she didn't.
She rose early.
She ran fast.
She kissed Eva's cheeks a hundred times a day and held her close like a lighthouse in a storm she refused to acknowledge.
Because love wasn't soft. Not always.
Sometimes it was sweat and grit and silent war.
And Seraphina was winning.
Because Eva was still smiling.
Still asking for kisses.
Still painting clouds.
Still sitting on her lap like she belonged there.
And Seraphina—
Seraphina would keep going.
Until the day she could rest without fear.
Until the world was safe.
Until her little moonlight no longer needed protecting—
But chose to stay anyway.