You knew I couldn't leave this alone. I have one more one-shot in mind, at least, to explain how it happened in the first place. But for now, here's a little look into our favorite training master's not-so-honorable mind :P.
Born This Way
Her grin is bordering on playful as she looks at him from across the desk. "Milord, do you ever still wish I'd been born a boy?"
The question catches him off-guard, and he looks up at her with open confusion. If she'd asked him a week ago, he would have said no, of course not. You are who you are, Keladry, and I wouldn't change it for the world. A week ago, he hadn't slept with her best friend, effectively shredding his marriage vows and bringing the realization that he'd never found women all that attractive in one fell swoop. The taste of Nealan of Queenscove still lingers on his tongue, the feel of him still on his hands and mouth. The thought of just what, exactly, he'd been doing last night makes him simultaneously cringe and burn, wondering what antics the boy would find to get up to next time.
So he stares at her blankly, and realizes that the answer is yes. Does it make him a terrible man, wondering what Mindelan would look like as a boy? Still that full mouth, still those sparkling hazel eyes, still those sinful lashes that might captivate a lesser man… But instead of curves, hard planes, and a fierce, male spirit to war with and succumb to his own.
Wyldon swallows, and manages a slight shake of his head. "Mindelan, you are you are. I wouldn't change it for the world." A pleased smile appears, and their attention returns to the reports at hand. But something lingers, tugging at him. He does wish she had been born a boy. He wishes it with all his heart.
But he will not be telling Queenscove that anytime soon.
