SGE-4

How Not to Throw a Coronation W41
Tedros jerked harder. Still didn’t budge.
He could hear the restless mob shifting.
Putting his foot on the wall, he pried at the blade with all of
his strength, his biceps straining against his skin—
Nope. Nothing.
Tedros was sweating now. He pulled right, left, front, back,
trying to make the sword slide, but with each pull it seemed
to bury harder into the stone. It didn’t make sense. Excalibur
wasn’t wedged that deep and the archway’s stone was loamy
and weak. Why wasn’t it moving?
People in the crowd were clutching each other, pointing at
him open-mouthed. They knew what was happening. They
knew after promising to save them as king, he was failing the
first test that would make him king, a test that shouldn’t have
been a test at all—
“Merlin . . . ,” he pleaded, but the sky was clear overhead,
the white star on his shoulder lost and gone.
He couldn’t breathe, his wet grip on the hilt making his
pulls shallow and frantic. His crown skewed on his head. His
coronation gown ripped at the seams—
Please, he begged, heaving at the sword. Please!
Lancelot ran up. “Just yank the damn thing out!” he said,
helping him jostle the hilt—
Tedros shoved him away. “It’s my test—I have to do it—”
But he pushed Lancelot too hard, who knocked backwards
straight into the chaplain, upending the old man over the balcony.
His priestly gown caught on the railing, leaving him
dangling upside down, robes over his head, exposed save for