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Comrade 107

Comrade 107

The Binding Moon cast a silver glow across the lands of Silverstone. Everyone knew something was coming.

Eva stood at the heart of the council chamber, her spine straight but her hands clenched behind her back. The pain in her belly had worsened over the last hours—two lives growing within her, pulling her in different directions. And now, with the moon overhead, the enemy dared to come with terms.

The heavy wooden doors creaked open.

Sylvester walked in like he owned the ground. His black coat trailed behind him, and his red eyes glinted with amusement. Behind him stood two vampires, silent and still. Their presence sent a shiver through the wolves in the room.

Max stepped forward instantly, growling low. Dany moved to his side, ready for anything. Tiana stood by Eva’s side, one hand already resting near her dagger.

But Sylvester didn’t attack.

He simply smiled.

“Let’s speak, Eva,” he said smoothly, like he wasn’t the one who had murdered, turned her mother, and invaded her lands.

Eva didn’t flinch. “Speak. But don’t waste my time.”

Sylvester’s eyes gleamed with something darker. “You know what I want. Finish the bond. Complete the mating link with me—willingly. Tonight. Under the Binding Moon. And the attacks will stop. No more blood. No more death. Peace.”

The room exploded in noise. Growls, gasps, curses. Max lunged forward, only for Dany to hold him back.

“You call that peace?” Eva spat, her voice echoing in the hall. “You want to force a bond and call it mercy?”

Sylvester stepped closer. “Not force. Offer. You and I share a bond, whether you want to admit it or not. Our child… carries my blood. You completing the bond will protect him. It will protect both children. I’m not asking for love, Eva. Just a choice.”

Max broke free and roared, shifting partially, claws sprouting from his fingers. His eyes glowed gold with fury.

“You don’t get to force fate!” he shouted, voice ragged with pain. “You don’t get to walk in here and use her children, her life, to bend her will!”

Sylvester smirked. “I didn’t force anything. I offered a deal. She has the power to end this war with one decision.”

Eva stood still, heart pounding. For a moment, everyone waited for her response.

She walked forward slowly, her eyes locked on Sylvester’s. Her voice came calm but sharp.

“I will never mate with you. Not now. Not ever. Whatever bond you think we share, it’s not real. You used dark magic. You played with fate. But I know my heart.”

Sylvester narrowed his eyes. “You’d risk war for love?”

Eva’s lips curved into a bitter smile. “I’d risk everything to stop you. And if I must die to end this, I will. But I swear, Sylvester, I will kill you myself before I ever let you claim me.”

Gasps echoed through the court.

Then she turned to Max.

He stood frozen, breathing heavily, chest rising and falling like a man barely containing the storm inside him. His eyes searched hers, filled with so much pain, so much doubt.

She stepped into him, lifted her hand, and touched his cheek gently.

“I should’ve told you this long ago,” she whispered, her voice soft only for him. “I choose you. Not because you’re safe. Not because it’s easy. But because when everything falls apart, you’re the only one I still see standing by me.”

Max’s eyes filled with tears, but he said nothing. His hand trembled as he reached for hers.

Then, in front of the entire court, in front of Sylvester, in front of war itself—Eva rose on her toes and kissed him.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was fire and storms. It was pain and healing. It was truth and defiance.

The whole room went silent. Magic trembled in the air. Their bond didn’t need a mark—it lit the space between them like lightning. Emotional, raw, and real.

Eva pulled back, keeping her forehead pressed to his.

“I may carry his child,” she said softly, “but my heart has always been yours.”

Max’s hands gripped her waist, like he finally let himself believe it.

Sylvester stood stiff, his jaw clenched. “You made your choice, then?”

Eva turned to him, her eyes burning like flames. “Yes. I choose him. Even if fate doesn’t.”

“I choose him. Even if fate doesn’t.”

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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