Not even a word could be heard in the streets, even in the marketplace which is pretty rare. The townspeople were all wearing black instead of vibrant colors, mourning as a nation. The palace is quieter than ever; the servants were working silently to prepare for the funeral feast.

The beloved king has passed.

The princes were in the throne room, holding in their sobs.

They must not show their weakness.

“My lady, a letter from the royal court,” the servant said handing her an envelope.

She read the letter silently, with her father staring at her.

“It’s from the prince. He wants me to come to the palace immediately,” she stated and widened her eyes.

“What for?” the man asked curiously and started reading it.

“He’s asking for my hand in marriage.”