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Comrade 66

Comrade 66

The next morning, Eva stood at the border gates, her arms crossed, watching as the guards whispered among themselves. A message had come at dawn—an envoy from the Runeblood Pack was approaching. They claimed to have sent a warrior to help protect Silverstone against rogue threats. It was unexpected. Suspicious.

Eva didn’t trust surprises. Not anymore.

She heard the hoofbeats before she saw him.

The rider came through the fog like a storybook knight, seated tall on a black horse. He wore dark armor with a crimson sash draped across one shoulder. His long, dark brown hair blew in the wind, and when he dismounted, every movement was graceful, practiced—deliberate. He had a sharp jawline, olive skin, and eyes the color of storm clouds. Eyes that locked onto Eva the moment he stepped forward.

“Alpha Queen,” he said, bowing low. “It is an honor to stand in your presence.”

Eva arched an eyebrow. “That’s a bold greeting. You must be Valen.”

“I am,” he said, smiling. “Valen of the Runeblood Pack. I’ve been sent by my Alpha to assist Silverstone. Word of the rogue attacks has spread.”

Her gaze narrowed. “And why would Runeblood care what happens to my pack?”

“Because you need help and as a new pack, we need allies,” Valen said without hesitation. “And because protecting the realm begins by protecting its strongest wolves.”

The guards around them murmured approval. Tiana, standing just behind Eva, raised her brows, clearly impressed.

“Well, he knows how to talk,” she whispered.

Eva didn’t smile, but her curiosity sparked. “And why should I believe you aren’t here for something else?”

Valen met her gaze with steady calm. “You don’t have to believe me, Alpha Queen. Just let me prove myself.”

At that exact moment, a growl tore through the air.

Max stepped out of the trees, his eyes locked on Valen like a predator catching scent of a rival. He hadn’t said a word when the message about the envoy arrived, but now his presence was sharp and unmistakable.

Eva felt the energy shift.

Valen turned slightly, and the smile on his face didn’t fade. “You must be Max Crescent. The future successor of Alpha Damien and Luna Felicia.”

“And you must be the smooth-talking stranger,” Max replied, his voice low and firm. “Tell me, is calling her ‘Alpha Queen’ part of the act? Or do you say that to every pretty girl whose pack you want to infiltrate?”

Tiana winced behind Eva. Dany, who had joined them late, chuckled under his breath. “This should be fun.”

Valen’s smile didn’t budge. “It’s not an act when the title is earned. And I say it because it’s the truth.”

Max took a step forward. “We don’t need help from someone who shows up with polished armor and perfect timing. And besides, I’ve never heard about your pack before. How come you know my parents?”

Eva raised a hand. “Enough.”

Both men froze.

She turned to Max first. “I appreciate your concern. But if Crescent isn’t sending reinforcements, then we don’t get to reject help just because you don’t like who it’s coming from.”

Max’s jaw tightened. “I don’t like liars.”

Eva turned to Valen. “And you—if you’re going to stay, you fight. You train. You bleed beside us. I don’t care about fancy words. I care about actions.”

Valen bowed again. “Then I’ll be honored to fight by your side.”

Max muttered something under his breath and walked away, his shoulders tense, his fists clenched at his sides.

Comrade

Comrade

Score 9.9
Status: Ongoing Type:
Comrade Summary & Review: Comrade

Princess Evangeline of Morwyn sat in the quiet waiting room of the royal physician’s office, her mind a whirlwind of fear and fragile hope. The grand palace, bathed in soft afternoon light, felt both like a home and a cage. She had been married to Crown Prince Sebastian of Valdris for three years, but their union was nothing more than a political arrangement—an alliance forged by their fathers to secure peace between their lands.

From the very beginning, Sebastian made it clear that his marriage to Evangeline was purely out of duty, not affection. They slept in separate chambers, exchanged only polite words in public, and maintained a cold civility that masked the emptiness beneath. Evangeline had once dreamed that time might change things, that she might earn his heart, but years of distance had buried that hope deep inside her.

Recently, however, her body had begun to change. She felt nauseated in the mornings, dizzy, and uncommonly tired. These signs, though subtle, stirred a small flame of longing within her—a desperate wish that she might finally be carrying his child. Perhaps, she thought, a baby could soften Sebastian’s heart and give meaning to their lifeless marriage.

When the physician, Master Aldrich, appeared at the doorway, his kind smile gave her both comfort and dread. He led her into his study, a cozy room filled with the scent of herbs, the warmth of a crackling fire, and shelves of ancient medical texts. Evangeline sat nervously as the old man took a sealed parchment from his desk.

With a gentle voice, Master Aldrich delivered the news that would change everything: “Your Highness, I’m delighted to tell you that you are indeed expecting.”

Evangeline’s breath caught in her throat. Her trembling hands broke the royal seal and scanned the words written neatly across the parchment. Pregnant. She was truly with child. Before she could even absorb the shock, Master Aldrich continued, beaming with joy—she was not carrying just one baby, but twins.

The revelation sent a rush of emotion through her—relief, disbelief, joy. Twins! Two heirs for the royal family. The weight of that realization made her dizzy, but it also filled her with warmth and purpose. For the first time in years, she smiled with genuine happiness. Perhaps this was the miracle she needed to mend what had long been broken.

In that moment, she imagined Sebastian’s face lighting up with pride and excitement. She pictured him embracing her, maybe even thanking her. The thought filled her with renewed courage. She thanked Master Aldrich graciously and insisted that she would tell Sebastian the news herself. This moment, she decided, must belong to them alone.

Walking through the grand marble corridors of the palace, Evangeline’s heart felt light for the first time in years. Servants bowed as she passed, but she hardly noticed them—her mind was focused only on Sebastian and the life growing inside her. She wanted to see him, to share the joy, to believe that maybe, just maybe, love could still bloom between them.

As she approached the door of Sebastian’s private study, her steps quickened. She called out softly, “Sebastian! My lord, I have the most wonderful news to—”

But her voice faltered.

Through the half-open door, Evangeline froze at the sight before her. Her husband stood with Lady Cordelia Ashworth, daughter of the Duke of Greymont, wrapped in his arms. The woman’s fiery red hair cascaded over Sebastian’s shoulders as he held her close. Evangeline’s heart stopped when she saw him tilt Cordelia’s chin upward and press his lips to hers—a tender, passionate kiss filled with the warmth and love she had begged the heavens for all these years.

It was everything she had ever wanted—and it wasn’t hers.

For a long, unbearable second, Evangeline could only stare. The parchment with her pregnancy confirmation still trembled in her hand. Then, in a broken whisper, she said his name: “Sebastian…”

The Crown Prince turned sharply, surprise flashing across his features before being quickly masked by his usual calm. Cordelia paled and stepped back, though Sebastian’s arm lingered protectively around her waist.

“Evangeline,” he said evenly, as though she were a stranger interrupting him, “what brings you here?”

Her throat tightened. She forced herself to stand tall, even as tears burned behind her eyes. “I… I live here,” she managed, her voice quivering. “I’m your wife.”

Sebastian’s cold gaze didn’t soften. “Is there something you need?” he asked, the same way he might address a court official.

Something inside Evangeline broke. Just minutes ago, she had been radiant with hope, ready to tell him that she carried his children—the future of his line. But now, staring at the indifference in his eyes and the woman in his arms, she realized the truth she had avoided for too long.

He would never love her. Not even their unborn children could change that.

A calmness settled over her—a cold, regal resolve that masked the chaos in her chest. Straightening her shoulders, Evangeline met his gaze with all the dignity her title demanded.

“Yes, my lord,” she said clearly. “There is something I need.”

Sebastian raised a brow, perhaps expecting her to plead, to cry, to beg for an explanation. Instead, she spoke words that shattered the silence of the study.

“I want an annulment.”

Both Sebastian and Cordelia froze. The shock in their eyes was almost satisfying. Cordelia gasped aloud, pressing a hand to her mouth, while Sebastian’s expression turned dark and unreadable.

“What did you say?” he asked in a dangerously quiet voice.

Evangeline’s chin lifted higher. Her hands no longer trembled. “You heard me perfectly,” she said. “I want our marriage annulled.”

In that instant, the timid princess who had once waited for scraps of affection was gone. What remained was a woman who had found her strength—not through her husband’s love, but through the pain he had caused.

Inside, she knew she carried the next heirs of the throne—his heirs—but she would not allow that to bind her to a man who treated her like a political pawn. She would raise her children with dignity, even if she had to walk away from the palace to do it.

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the crackle of the fireplace and the unspoken consequences of her declaration. But Evangeline didn’t wait for a reply. Gathering her skirts, she turned toward the door, her heart broken yet unburdened.

Her steps echoed through the marble halls as she walked away from the man who had never seen her—and toward the freedom she was finally claiming for herself.

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