A March of Kings - By Morgan Rice Page 0,33

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 night, searching out the face.

But only silence came in return, as the others looked away.

“There are rumors of a revolt,” Elden said finally. “Gareth is nothing like you. Nothing like us. He has made many enemies. Especially among the Legion, and among the Silver. Anything can happen. You might one day find yourself King.”

Reese reddened.

“I would only wish to be king if it were legitimate. Not under those circumstances. Not because of my father’s early death, and not because Gareth was betrayed. Besides, my eldest brother Kendrick would be far better than me.”

“But he is not eligible,” said O’Connor.

“Well then there is also my sister, Gwendolyn. That was my father’s final wish.”

“For a girl to rule?” someone yelled out in surprise. “That would never happen.”

“But that was his wish,” Reese insisted.

“But he shall not get his wish now, shall he?” someone remarked.

Slowly, Reese shook his head.

“For better or for worse, we’re all in Gareth’s hands now,” he said.

“Who knows what we shall return to in a hundred days?” Elden remarked.

The group fell silent, as they all stared into the flames.

Thor sat there, thinking. The mention of Gwendolyn’s name left a pit in his stomach. He turned and whispered to Reese.

“Your sister,” he said. “Did you see her, after the funeral?”

Reese looked at Thor, and slowly nodded.

“We spoke. I cleared your name. She knows you had nothing to do in the brothel.”

Thor felt a great sense of relief, felt his stomach relax for the first time in days. He was overwhelmed with gratitude towards Reese.

“Did she say she wants to see me again?” Thor asked, hopefully.

Reese shook his head.

“I’m sorry, my brother,” he said. “She is a proud one. She does not like to admit when she’s wrong. Even if she is.”

Thor turned and looked back into the flames, and slowly nodded. He understood. He felt a hollowness in his stomach, but it gave him strength. There would be a long hundred days ahead of him, and it would be best if he had nothing left to care for.

*

Thor stood in the king’s chamber, over his bed, the room dark save for a single torch at the far end that flickered slowly. Thor took three slow steps, knelt down beside the king, and held his hand. His eyes were closed. He looked peaceful. He was cold and still, and Thor could feel that he was dead.

MacGil’s crown still sat on his head, and as Thor watched, Ephistopheles suddenly flew into the room, swooped down through an open window, and landed on the king’s head. She grabbed the crown in her mouth, and flew away with it. She screeched as she flew out the window, her huge wings flapping, carrying the crown far into the sky.

Thor looked back at MacGil, and saw that now, in his place, lay Gareth. Thor quickly withdrew his hand, as he saw that Gareth’s hand was that of a