La Nova

III

III.

Time passed quickly, and the years rolled on. I was tutored in politics, culture, and language. I had to learn some arts, in order to be considered literate, so I continued with my harp lessons. I'd been told I had a lovely singing voice, so I practiced with that as well. Although I wasn't any good, I painted in my spare time just to pacify Master Gonzaglio who had faithfully continued to tutor me in all things artistic.

Lysander had been sent away to Academy for three years in Trelaine as custom for boys. Gabriel and I said goodbye to him when we were fourteen and he fifteen, on the last day of summer, watching as his carriage rode out of sight.

The mountains were quiet then.

With time, came change. Gabriel's health had gone through a downward spiral when we were sixteen, leaving him bedridden the entire summer, fall and winter. But that spring, that spring when we turned seventeen his health had never been better.

Ah, seventeen. The year I'd bloomed. The previous years, my looks had gone unremarked. My black hair still tangled into irreparable knots, my face still tanned in the sun which my mother utterly loathed, and my green eyes, the eyes of Drusilla, my great-great-great grandmother still sparkled in my face like lost jewels.

But seventeen; when I turned seventeen, the tide had changed. I grew, like a weed, until I was only a few inches shorter than Gabriel. My hair smoothed itself out, long and wavy instead of thick and coarse. My face had lost its roundness, flaunting high, skillfully cut cheekbones and full lips. And my eyes; Gods my eyes. I had never known eyes to be used as a weapon before.

But now, a simple glance at the stable boy, and he stammered, fumbling as he saddled Fire for an outdoor excursion.

Gabriel had just simply watched, shaking his head at me.

"What?" I asked, running an idly hand through my hair, which felt suddenly like fine silk.

"You have no idea the affect you have on him do you?" Gabriel asked me, his own green eyes crinkled under blonde brows.

He too, had undertaken a transformation. He was no longer the sickly boy I had known him to be. Instead he was stronger, taller, still a bit on the thin side, with pale skin that glowed. His blonde hair fell like a wave on his wide brow, and his smile was strong. He was handsome, in a way I scarce understood. The servants, men and women clamored around him, and surprisingly, he bedded them all on a consistent basis.

He insisted it was for his health, his daily exercise. I insisted it was for his vanity. And still, they loved him anyway. Bewildering stuff.

"If you are trying to imply that I am beautiful, I accept your compliment." I shrugged, slinging my body with effortless grace onto my horse. I had taken this newfound beauty with ease, not wanting it to go to my head.

But I was full aware of the changes it had brought to my life; the ease of which I could have my way with men and women alike. But I had more pressing concerns, like how I would be of an age next year, which meant I would have to leave my beloved home in the Alaysian Mountains and journey to Trelaine, where I would reside and take up my member on the Council.

"At least you're not arrogant," Gabriel remarked, mounting his brown mare Honey. "Then I'd really hate you."

"Oh hush." I sighed, as we rode towards the Devonly estate. Today was significant in its own. Lysander was finally coming home.

We rode out meet him, excitement thundering in my breast. Aside from my protestations, I was eager to see how my old friend would react to my change. To see him stammer and stutter like a fool would bring me much amusement.

Something twisted inside of me, and I realized it would also bring me satisfaction. I wanted Lysander to find me attractive. I frowned at that.

Why did I want that? I wondered. He'd been nothing but my best friend for all the years I'd known him. Why did I want that to change? I cared what he thought of me, very much so, but why about this?

I pondered at that, as we arrived, Lysander's carriage already pulled up. He was climbing out, hugging his mother who had been right there to greet him. His younger sister Lydia, a strong hug for his father Lord Ashley.

"Ho!" Gabriel and I called, riding hard towards them and reigning in. I leapt off my mount, Gabriel following.

Lysander saw us in the distance, and gave a joyful cry, running headlong to meet us.

All three collided, falling to the ground. Lysander put both of his arms around us, smiling broadly.

"It's so good to see you! Gods, those overstuffed royal prigs at the Academy drove me insane!" Lysander sighed, punching Gabriel in the arm and ruffling my hair.

Instead of tangling, it fell back into it's graceful waves. Lysander seemed confused at the texture of my hair, and turned to look at me full on.

When my eyes locked with his black ones, it was I who became speechless. It was like a sucker punch to the stomach. I was breathless, my heart pounding like mad, my mind working furiously.

"You-" I said, unable to articulate the change.

His white blonde hair flowed down his back, his eyes held a sensuous awareness to them that had never been there before. His mouth; so full, so ripe. I yearned to taste his lips, an admission that shocked me into blushing. And his body; the broad shoulders, the muscled arms straining against the sleeves of his doublet.

"You, too." He acknowledged in a whisper. And in a flash, he was the same boy he'd always been. Lysander De Devonly, the pain in my ass, the boy who made me stronger.

"Welcome back, wanker." I teased. "Gods, you smell like the City."

"Sorry love." He said, standing to his feet, dusting the grass off of his hose. He offered an arm to me, and I yanked him down beside me before jumping to my feet.

Gabriel grinned, tackling him to the ground, starting an impromptu wrestling match. Part of me wanted to join in like old times, but it felt so juvenile. So childish.

I climbed atop Fire, and saluted the boys, riding home. To do what? Embroidery. Gods, I was becoming such a girl.

And part of me wanted Lysander to see that.