It had been a somber day at the funeral pyre for Prince Valarr. The flames licked the sky, consuming the body of her late husband as Kiera stood with her head held high, yet her heart heavy with grief. She had buried her love, her dreams of heirs, and now, her future was uncertain.

Her gaze drifted from the flickering pyre, her eyes briefly meeting the form of Prince Daeron, her late husband's cousin. He stood at the edge of the crowd, his solemn expression unreadable, but something in his posture, in the way his eyes lingered on her, caused a stir in her chest. The grief she had held at bay seemed to melt for a brief moment, replaced with a quiet curiosity. She chuckled and smirked to herself. She realized how inappropriate it was to smile at a funeral.