Caspian’s eyes dropped to the sword in the young man's hand, the same blade he had pulled moments ago from the ancient tree. His breath caught. “High King Peter?” he asked, disbelief in his voice. The man straightened, his gaze steady. “I believe,” he replied, a faint edge in his tone, “you’re the one who called us?” My pulse quickened again—so this was the High King of old, standing mere steps away from me.
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