Page 16

Three years later…

Honor

The crash and clang of metal against metal intermixes with grunts.

“Shh, keep it down!” I scold the men. Wes and a dozen of his teammates have gathered with me in a small room outside the main ballroom with the stage where Zeke will be crossing to collect his diploma and officially graduate from high school.

It hasn’t been an easy path to graduation; Wes has had to do as much cajoling and threatening as Zeke’s mom to get him to this day.

But Zeke finally passed all of his requirements, and we are all so proud of him.

Wes has even planned for a little surprise.

“Just practicing,” Wes says with a grin as he flips up his visor.

His smile never fails to set my heart alight, even after three years and a wedding.

After we had finally admitted our feelings to each other, Wes had barely taken a breath before proposing.

We were married in–what else–a Renaissance-themed ceremony, complete with minstrels, a court jester for entertainment, and, of course, knights in armor.

Zeke had been a groomsman, pleased as punch to finally be wearing armor.

The whole wedding had been nothing short of magical. In fact, our ceremony had given Wes his inspiration for today.

“Practicing? You’re expecting to break into a melee in the middle of a graduation ceremony?” I put my hands on my hips and give him a look.

He shrugs. “You never know.”

I roll my eyes. “I think you’re good,” I say, walking over to him.

“You do, huh?” he asks, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me into his side. “How good?”

“Very good,” I say, laughing even as my heart beats faster.

“The best knight you’ve ever seen?” He waggles his eyebrows.

“Well, I don’t know that I’d go that far,” I tease, bopping him on the nose.

“Hey!” He frowns, even as his eyes twinkle.

“What about Zeke? He is, after all, the reason that we’re here,” I say, gesturing at the building around us.

“Considering I’ve taught him everything he knows,” Wes says gravely, “I’ll accept that.”

“That’s very generous of you,” I say, my tone droll. “What a gentleman.”

“Do I deserve a prize?”

I narrow my eyes. “What kind of prize?”

Wes steps back and bows with a flourish. “Fair maiden, wilt thou bestow a kiss?”

I laugh, shaking my head at his nerdy silliness. It’s all part of his charm. “Since you asked so nicely, how could I resist?”

He pauses, still bent over. “I’m not hearing a yes.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes again. “Yes, you crazy person.”

“I’ll take it.” Wes stands up and sweeps me into his arms, gently pressing me to his steel-clad chest as his mouth covers mine. In three years, I’ve been the lucky recipient of a thousand Wes kisses, and somehow, they only get better each time.

“It’s time!” a voice calls from the doorway. Wes and I break apart, both of us a little red in the face and breathing hard. We turn to see Zeke’s mother, beckoning for us.

Wes’s Buhurt team gathers together and walks out of the room in single file, the sound of their steel suits occasionally clinking. We open the doors to the ballroom where graduates are being called up on the stage in order to receive their diplomas.

Eyes turn to watch as the group of armored fighters enters the room. The principal, with whom we had arranged our little surprise, gives us a nod and a thumbs up.

“And now, may we present this diploma to Ezekiel Sanders,” the principal’s voice booms, amplified by the sound system, “who is also receiving the Sword of Valor for demonstrating exceptional teamwork, leadership, and dedication in sports.”

Zeke’s mouth drops open at first as he catches sight of his crew waiting for him, then gives a whoop. He takes his diploma and shakes hands with the principal, then half-jogs down the stage toward us.

The Buhurt team lifts their swords to create a tunnel and stomp their feet, cheering on their youngest teammate. Zeke, with the world’s biggest grin on his face, walks through the tunnel, bumping fists with each fighter as he passes.

At the end of the tunnel stands Wes, who is holding a sword flat in his hands. He had had the sword specially made for Zeke by an armorer in Ukraine and it sports an intricate carving of a dragon holding a gemstone in its maw on the hilt.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” Zeke says to Wes, his voice barely above a whisper as it cracks.

“You deserve it,” Wes whispers back. Then, lifting his voice for all to hear, he says, “Olympia Onslaught presents this sword to you in recognition of your achievement today. Do you accept?”

Zeke nods. He dashes one hand against his eyes as he reaches out with the other to take the sword that Wes is offering. He lifts it high as the Buhurt team yells, “Huzzah!” and the whole auditorium erupts in cheers.

I can’t hold my own tears back as Wes embraces the teenager.

I am so proud of Zeke and so proud of Wes, who has been the best Play It Forward mentor anyone could ever ask for.

Not many men would have volunteered to mentor a troubled teen, and even fewer would have built the kind of lasting relationship that these two have.

Pride overfills my chest until I could burst from it. I have married a man with a good and pure heart, and that is the best kind of man. I may not be a princess in a high tower, and I may not have any dragons to slay, but Wes is still the knight of my dreams and always will be.

***

I hope you fell in love with Wes and Honor. I had so much fun writing their story!