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Comrade 61

Comrade 61

He still hasn’t looked at you.”

Tiana’s voice cut through the laughter and music, low and sharp in Eva’s ear.

Eva didn’t respond. She just stared straight ahead, chin high, like she hadn’t been watching him all night from the shadows of the trees.

The Silverstone Pack hadn’t seen a celebration this grand in over a decade. Lanterns drifted lazily between the branches, casting a golden glow over the courtyard. Wolves danced to the beat of hand drums and guitars, their laughter weaving through the scent of grilled meat, wildflowers, and cider. It was supposed to be a night of joy. A rite of passage.

Eighteen. That’s how old she and her twin sister, Tiana, were now. Officially wolves. Officially women.

Eva stood apart from it all in a lavender dress that shimmered when the light touched it just right. Her long brown hair was braided to the side, her posture calm and elegant—like a girl who belonged in a palace, not among bonfires and secrets.

But beneath the surface, her heart thudded with quiet rage.

Because he hadn’t looked at her. Not once.

Max Crescent stood across the courtyard with his warriors, sleeves rolled to the elbow, dark hair slicked back like he didn’t have a care in the world. He hadn’t flinched when she arrived. Hadn’t blinked when she smiled at the elders. Hadn’t reacted when she was pulled into a dance—twirling, laughing, pretending not to notice the hollow space in her chest.

It was like she was invisible.

And tonight, of all nights, that burned worse than any full moon.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go talk to him?” Tiana whispered as she looped her arm through Eva’s. Her golden dress sparkled in the firelight, and she radiated energy, excitement, and just enough mischief to attract attention from every male within range.

Eva gave a small shake of her head. “He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Tiana frowned. “He’s being an idiot. A blind, moody idiot.”

“I’m used to it,” Eva said, forcing a smile. “Go. Have fun. You don’t have to babysit me.”

“I’m not babysitting. I’m staying near the only person here who doesn’t look like she wants to set the place on fire,” Tiana teased. Then her eyes sparkled as someone approached. “Oh, wait. Scratch that.”

Dany, Max’ twin brother, strode over with two cups of cider and an unmistakable swagger in his step. He offered one to Tiana with a grin that was all charm and trouble.

“For the birthday girl,” he said, bowing slightly.

Tiana took the cup and raised an eyebrow. “Trying to get me drunk already? We just started the night.”

“Trying to win your father’s approval,” Dany said with mock seriousness. “You think if I keep you happy, he’ll stop glaring at me like I’ve broken some ancient law.”

“Oh, he’ll glare anyway,” she laughed. “It’s in his blood.”

Georgina appeared just then, holding a tray of roasted meat and clearly having overheard part of the conversation.

“Tiana Silverstone,” she said sternly, “don’t even think about it.”

Tiana turned, blinking innocently. “Think about what?”

“Staying the night at Crescent,” Georgina snapped. “You can’t even boil an egg. Why should I let you loose with a boy who thinks ‘responsibility’ is a sword move?”

Dany placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Hey, I can be responsible. I’ll even teach her how to cook an egg.”

Lucien appeared behind Georgina with a slow shake of his head and a smirk playing on his lips. “It’s not her safety I’m worried about,” he said dryly. “It’s the pack’s sanity.”

Tiana groaned and threw her hands in the air. “I’m eighteen. I’m not a baby anymore.”

“You’ll always be my baby,” Lucien replied, chuckling as he ruffled her hair, earning an exaggerated scowl from his daughter.

While the others laughed, Eva drifted a few steps away, her eyes scanning the crowd again. Max was still there. Still talking to the Crescent warriors. Still not looking at her.

She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sharp pinch in her chest.

Dany glanced toward her, his smile fading. “He’s being colder than usual tonight,” he murmured to Tiana.

Tiana followed his gaze and frowned. “He hasn’t said a word to her. Not even a glance.”

Eva heard them but said nothing. She could feel the distance growing between them like a wall she couldn’t climb anymore. She had tried. Letters he never answered. Invitations he always declined. She told herself she didn’t care anymore, that she didn’t need his approval, or his attention, or his friendship. But the ache in her chest told a different story.

She looked back toward the lights and laughter, to her sister and her family—the people who still made her feel like she mattered. She decided she’ll take a walk in the woods. And then she looked one last time at Max, his expression unreadable as he leaned in to whisper something to one of the warriors.

He hadn’t looked her way. Not even once.

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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