A March of Kings by Morgan Rice Page A

ground.
    “I just want to know who did it,” Reese said “I just want to know who killed him.”
    “As would I,” Elden echoed.
    “And we,” the twins echoed.
    “Did he tell you anything?” Reese asked Thor. “In those last minutes with him? Did he tell you who did it?”
    Thor could sense the others all looking at him. He tried to remember exactly what the king said.
    “He told me he saw who did it. But he could not remember his face.”
    “But was it someone he knew?” Reese pressed.
    “He said it was,” Thor said.
    “But that hardly narrows it down,” O’Connor said. “A king knows more people than we ever will.”
    “I’m sorry,” Thor added. “He didn’t tell me anymore.”
    “But you were in there with him for minutes before he died,” Reese pressed. “What else did he say to you?”
    Thor hesitated, wondering how much to tell Reese. He didn’t want to make him envious or jealous, or cause jealousy among the other boys. What could he possibly say? That the king said his destiny was greater than his? That would only stir the envy and hatred of everyone else.
    “He did not say much,” Thor said. “He was mostly silent.”
    “But then why did he want to see you? You specifically? Right before he died? Why did he not want to see me?” Reese pressed.
    Thor sat there, not knowing how to respond. He realized how bad Reese must have felt, being his son, and having his father choose to see someone else in his final moments. He did not know what to say to comfort him, and had to think of something fast.
    “He wanted me to tell you how much he cared for you,” Thor lied. “I think it was easier for him to tell a stranger.”
    Thor felt Reese examining him to see if he was lying.
    Finally, Reese turned and looked away, seeming satisfied. Thor felt bad not telling the complete truth. He hated to lie, and he never did. But he did not know what else to say. And he did not want to hurt his friend’s feelings.
    “And what of the sword now?” Conval asked.
    Reese turned and looked at him.
    “What do you mean?”
    “You know what I mean. The Dynasty Sword. Now that the king is dead, the next MacGil will have a chance to try to wield it. I hear that Gareth is being crowned. Is that true?”
    All the boys around the fire, even the older ones, grew quiet and looked at Reese.
    Reese slowly nodded.
    “It is,” he said.
    “That means Gareth will get to try,” O’Connor said.
    Reese shrugged.
    “According to tradition, yes. If he chooses to.”
    “Do you think he’ll be able to wield it?” Elden asked. “Do you think he is the One?”
    Reese snorted in derision.
    “Are you kidding? He’s my brother by blood only. Not by choice. I have nothing to do with him. He is not the One. He is not even a King. He is barely a prince. If my father were alive, he would never be king. I would bet my life that he would be unable to wield that sword.”
    “And then how shall that look to the other kingdoms, if our new king should try and fail?” Conval asked. “Another failed MacGil king? It will make us seem weak.”
    “Are you saying that my father was a failure?” Reese snapped, on edge.
    “No,” Conval said, backing down. “I didn’t meant that. I’m just saying that our kingdom will look weak if our new king fails to wield the sword. It could invite attack by others.”
    Reese shrugged.
    “There is nothing we can do. When the right time comes, one day, a MacGil will wield that sword.”
    “Maybe it will be you,” Elden said.
    All the others turned and stared at Reese
    “After all,” Elden added, “you are the king’s other true son.”
    “So is Godfrey,” Reese answered. “He is also older than me.”
    “But Godfrey would never rule. And after Gareth, that leaves you.”
    “None of that matters,” Reese said. “Gareth is king now. Not me.”
    “Maybe not for long,” said one of the other boys, a deep voice from somewhere in the crowd.
    “What do you mean?” Reese asked into the