Chapter 8: Grief

Laurel felt the tears welling up and spilling down her face before she had fully realized what he said.

Her father? Dead? There had to be a mistake.

She shook her head, “N-No. you must be mistaken, Your Majesty. I have written him many letters--”

“I know,” he said and gestured behind him as he kept his voice calm. “We have kept your letters along with his belongings.”

Laurel shook her head as a soldier came forward and offered her a bundle. She recognized her father’s cloak and shoes along with the neatly bound letters she’d written him. Blood stained the cloak still faintly smelling of fire. She knew from her past life that every wolf killed by a vampire was burned to keep them from becoming vampires, yet the absence of his body only made the ache worse.

“No…” Her legs gave out and she sank to the ground, staring at the bundle as she tried to hold in her sobbing. “No!”

Adolph’s scent enveloped her as his arms pulled her close, stroking her hair. She leaned into him, sobbing as he