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Comrade 87

Comrade 87

The night sky over Silverstone was full of stars, but inside the packhouse, the air felt heavy. The gathering had been planned for weeks—a formal ceremony to announce Eva’s mate, to honor her bond, and restore unity.

But Eva had called it off that morning.

Now, wolves stood in groups across the courtyard, murmuring behind their hands. Some confused. Some offended. Others, unsure of what it all meant. The elders whispered about tradition. The younger warriors debated her choices. The tension was everywhere.

Eva stood on the balcony above them, watching, listening, and refusing to apologize.

Her crown glinted in the moonlight, her cloak billowing softly behind her. When she finally stepped forward to speak, silence spread like a wave.

“I know many of you came tonight expecting a mating ceremony,” Eva said, her voice loud and clear. “You came to see me choose. To see someone claim me.”

She paused, letting the silence settle.

“But I won’t be claimed by anyone until I claim myself.”

Gasps echoed. A few elders exchanged sharp glances. Some nodded with quiet pride. Others turned away, shaking their heads.

“I know this isn’t how it’s done,” she continued. “But I’m not here to follow rules written by those who never thought someone like me would lead. I carry a child. I carry a pack. I carry a legacy that was nearly lost. And I will carry all of it—on my own terms.”

She stepped back. No more words. No room for debate.

When she returned inside, Tiana was waiting.

“You really know how to stir a pot,” her sister said, arms crossed but smiling.

Eva sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “They think I’m reckless.”

“No,” Tiana said. “They think you’re dangerous.”

Eva blinked.

Tiana stepped closer. Her voice softened, but it was still fierce. “You’re not weak. You’re terrifying. That’s why they whisper.”

Eva looked away, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you think I’m making a mistake?”

Tiana shook her head. “I think you’re the first Luna brave enough to say she doesn’t belong to anyone.”

Eva’s lips curved into the smallest of smiles. “I’m not even sure I belong to myself yet.”

“That’s the point,” Tiana said. “You’re still becoming.”

Later that night, as the moon climbed higher, Eva stepped out into the gardens behind the packhouse. The air was cool and quiet, the only sound coming from the soft rustle of the trees.

She found Max leaning against the stone railing near the edge of the hill, watching the stars. His posture was relaxed, but his expression was tight, unreadable.

“I thought you might come out here,” he said without turning.

“I figured you’d be gone by now,” Eva replied.

He turned to her then, his eyes tired, but clear. “I couldn’t leave. Not without saying something I should’ve said a long time ago.”

She waited, her heart already bracing for the weight of his words.

“I know you don’t owe me anything,” Max began. “Not love. Not promises. Not even answers.”

She looked at him carefully. “Then what do you want?”

He took a breath. “A deal.”

Eva frowned. “A deal?”

He nodded slowly. “You don’t have to choose me. But let me be your second. Let me fight for you, even if I don’t get to love you.”

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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