until the angry insects calmed down, then I snuck up and put the tip of the sword into the opening. I pushed it in and ran back in case more bees appeared. But none did.
“Well, that’s it,” Liz said.
“Not quite. I still have to check it.”
“Check it?”
“Yeah, you know.”
She shook her head. “Boys.”
I put my foot on the root where so many others had stood, wrapped my hand around the hilt, and pulled. Hard.
The sword that had moments before slid in like butter now refused to budge.
I shifted my grip and braced one foot on the tree’s trunk for leverage.
“That’s cheating,” Liz observed.
I tried again. The sword remained immobile.
I rejoined Liz and put my arm around her shoulders. The wind ruffling the branches made the sun dance around the sword like little fairies of light. It must’ve looked like this when Marcus Drake first approached it as a boy, guided by Cameron Kern toward a destiny that had consumed him. Now it awaited the next Marcus Drake, who would hopefully be older, smarter, and better able to resist his own darkness.
The future king, once again.
Or something like that.
