“What about King Tut’s tomb?” I protested.“That boy king?” Zia rolled her eyes. “Boring. You should see some of the good tombs.”
“And so sepúlchred in such pomp dost lie,That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.”
“You want to know how Egyptians pulled the brains out of mummies. or built the pyramids, or cursed King Tut's tomb? My dad's your man.”
“Have you heard of the legends of sleeping kings? The legends that heroes like Llewellyn and Glendower and Arthur aren’t really dead, but are instead sleeping in tombs, waiting to be woken?”
“All kings are blind. The good ones see this and use more than their eyes to lead.”
“If there’s no such thing as a king, why such a fuss?... Silence would have helped her to forget, but each protest made her wish all the more: If only there really were a king!”