With a gasp of relief, she reached a clear space behind the crowd and searched for a way to get a better viewpoint.
The crowd was growing louder and louder and more people were rushing to join the crowd. There was no way she could find Amanda in the crown.
There had to be somewhere safer to get a better view.
"There," she grinned and hurried towards the tall tree just beyond the crowd.
She hiked her skirt and tucked it loosely into her belt before climbing up to the overhanging branch.
Carefully, she crawled onto it and sat.
The view was perfect. She could see to the edge of town just as the soldiers were reaching the edge of town.
Their silver armor, though battered, still gleamed in the sun beneath their black cloaks bearing the Imperial crest. Her stomach clenched with apprehension but she pushed that away and tried to scan the soldiers hoping to see her father despite the distance.
She was Laurel now and Laurel had no reason to grow nervous at the sight of the Imperial crest.
Laurel let out a cheer and clapped with the rest of the crowd, swept up in the excitement of the crowd. Her heart raced.
Alice jerked to attention inside her.
Laurel took a deeper breath, puzzling out the scent that seemed to be growing closer and louder as the soldiers drew closer.
The freshest roses and cedarwood tinged with just the faintest scent of blood drifted on the wind. The crowd's enthusiasm seemed to lessen as the soldiers entered the
town.
Among the silver and black, red fluttered and drew her gaze. The man was tall and handsome.
She felt he was as remote as a star twinkling in the night. He stood out among the sea of back and silver though he was not in front of the procession.
His cloak like knitted blood billowed in the wind attached to his armor with golden cords and fastenings.
His chest plate was black, but the gold glinted in the sunlight like flint sparks adding to his dangerous aura.
His light blonde hair seemed to catch and hold the rays of the sun, ruffled by the wind.
He was the most handsome man Laurel had ever seen. She doubted anyone could say anything different, yet his aura seemed to subdue the crowd Who was he?
The scent grew stronger as did the scent of blood. The roses bloomed like a midnight perfume and the cedar warmed. Her heart raced and her mouth watered.
The procession continued and the man grew closer, nodding at people as he passed before he stiffened and lifted his head, his eyes scanned the area for a moment before he met her gaze.
A shock of heat and elation went with her. Alice howled in her heart and she felt almost dizzy with the rush of attraction and rightness.
Mate! Adolph Raymond breathed in the scent of his kingdom's lands with great relief. There was no blood, no pain or darkness: no fear.
He smiled, guiding his horse in line with the procession as he breathed in the scent of the metalworks that Silver Blade was known for. It was sweeter than he thought it should be.
Almost creamy like milk and honey warmed by the sun, sweet and tantalizing.
He shook his head. That scent wasn't the metalworks.
Adam growled with contentment.
Adolf's wolf had never felt so at ease. He cast his gaze around searching for the source of the scent.
"Your Majesty?"
Soon, he found the source of the scent. A young woman, likely younger than his son, was balanced carefully on a tree overlooking the procession. Her long black hair gleamed in the sunlight like silk and the hem of her skirt revealing her plain shoes and pale ankles.
His lips twitched at her reckless bravery. It could not have been easy to get up there in such a dress, let alone getting down.
His heart clenched as stared at the young woman, transfixed and awed with disbelief, hope, and joy.
Mate!
He pulled the reins to stop his horse. How was this possible?
He had hoped in his youth to find his mate, yet he had set that hope aside for the sake of his kingdom's stability and the production of an heir.
He could not remember the last time he had thought of the potential, so sure that the goddess would never bless him with such a gift, yet there she was after such a long war.
Perhaps his epithet as the Goddess-Blessed King had some merit, after all.
Her gaze met his and her eyes widened in shock. The bond sparked into an all-consuming warmth, filling him and burning away all the yearning and longing he'd ignored for years.
He pulled his horse away from the procession to get through the subdued crowd.
Would she be frightened of the blood that stained his aura, or would she be welcoming and thankful for his efforts? He wanted to know.
He needed to know.
"Your Majesty!"
The people parted for him and he approached the tree slowly, fearful of frightening the young woman.
He held his breath, fearful that she might vanish into the wind as no more than a lonely man's dream.
He stopped under the tree and stared up at her as she stared at him, speechless. Her heart was beating quickly, but she didn't seem to fear him...May I have the honor of knowing your name, my mate?"
Laurel was speechless as the man spoke to her. So close, she wondered if anyone could look at him and think him a mere werewolf. A god, a blessed messiah of the goddess, or a fallen star: Goddess, he was so handsome! His smile was charming and he wore it with all the confidence of an older man assured of who he was and his ability to get what he wanted.
His eyes were a clear blue, looking at her as if he could see to the depths of her heart and loved everything she ever had been.
His breastplate was black leather, stretched over his broad, muscled chest. He was much larger than she thought, and she felt her face heat.
The scent of blood was much stronger this close, yet his cloak and pants seemed clean.
Blood had stained him so much that it had become a part of his scent it seemed.