The air still smelled of smoke the day Lord Erich Iztarr declared himself king. The people had lit fires of mourning every night since King Michael's death, and several burned even as we gathered in the square to honor his life.
King Michael was the only king I'd ever known, and though we'd hardly seen him through the last years of his illness, he'd ruled Eksea well. His death had unsettled us all, but I knew Father would take care of the kingdom as he always had. So I sat in the sun on the terrace of the Palace of Government and listened to Lord Iztarr regale us with warm memories of Good King Michael's life and stirring laments about his death. I lost myself in his words, let him wrap me up in his beautiful sorrow.

You're subject matter sounds similar to mine (in that it involves kings and whatnot, instead of, say, aliens or something). I would happily exchange chapters if you like! I just finished up a manuscript and am also looking for feedback. I've done a lot of critiquing on this kind of stuff, and I would love to give you my two cents on your chapter!