Forbidden Desires: Conquering Kingdoms And Women In a Fantasy World!

The agreed-upon two hours passed with ruthless speed.

By the time I guided the hired phaeton back to The Sleeping Griffin, dawn's gentle gold had hardened into the sharper light of a late-summer morning. I had traded the simple vest for a well-fitted dark riding coat whose interior pockets bulged with sealed water-crystals, fine steel hooks, waxed cord, and coin. Strapped under the bench lay my favorite weapon made by Enrik: two lacquered spear-halves silver-etched steel, joined by a precision locking collar. Separated, they served as short staves; connected, they became the seven-foot lance.

Liliana waited by the side door exactly where I had told her, hood pulled low, travel pack at her feet. She tilted her head when she saw the phaeton was driven not by me but by an elderly coachman whose cataracted eyes suggested he saw only the horses' rumps.

Bram was one of the servants of Viscount Lindow I had borrowed.

"Relax," I murmured, hopping down to load her pack. "This old Bram can't distinguish a griffin from a goose. He hears nothing, speaks less, and ardently believes I'm on a botanical field trip for the academy."

Her lips curved, half amused, half uncertain, yet she climbed aboard without protest. As soon as we rattled away, I pulled the hood of my own cloak low, leaned close enough for my shoulder to brush hers, and lowered my voice.

"First rule of discreet work, Liliana: misdirection costs nothing and spares us blood. Bram will drop us at the eastern mile-stone, turn back, and swear to anyone who asks that we spent the day pressing flowers."

"That seems… elaborately dishonest for flowers," she said, cheeks pinkening at the small contact.

I allowed a lazy smile. "Elaborate dishonesty is an art form. It keeps people alive. Besides, pressing flowers with a beautiful companion sounds like exactly the sort of sentimental pastime the duke's ward might indulge on his day off."

She tried and failed to hide her blush. A promising sign: embarrassment meant she hadn't decided to stab me in my sleep—yet.

The city dwindled behind us. Vineyards surrendered to chestnut groves, then the carriage jolted onto the older imperial road skirting Silverwood Forest. When the granite milestone came into view, I tapped the roof, Bram reined in, and I helped Liliana disembark beneath the arching boughs.

"Return at dusk," I told the coachman, sliding a silver stag into his palm. "If a Viscount Lindow asks, you spent the day admiring orchids with me on the Academia's south hill."

His watery eyes lit with the bribe's shine. "Orchids, m'lord. Not a word otherwise."

The phaeton clattered off. The instant it rounded a bend, I walked Liliana fifty paces into the trees, then dropped the glamour I had woven around my wrist: a ripple of cool blue shimmered outward, swallowing carriage prints in damp loam and coaxing tender ferns to spring where flattened grass had lain. Water magic—not explosive, but precise—was a marvelous eraser.

She stared, ears twitching through her hood. "You can make plants grow?"

"Only when the ground is wet. I accelerated nature's timetable by a few hours—little more." I beckoned. "Come. We have ten hours to hunt legends and sprint back before the Viscount sent his knights to look for me."

Silverwood lived up to its name; dawn light filtered through leaves dusted with pale metallic sheen, giving the understory a muted glow. Birdsong was subdued, replaced by the distant hiss of stream over stone. Liliana lifted her nose and inhaled.

"I smell dew, cedar, and… something faint. Sparkle is the best word." Her voice sounded half awed, half perplexed. "It's how rare beasts smell—like the air before lightning. Delicate."

"Then lead."

She walked with surprising silence, tail—now hidden beneath a second cloak panel—balancing each cautious step. I followed half a pace behind, studying the sway of her hips, the way her mahogany hair brushed the curve of her neck when she ducked a branch. She glanced back once, catching my gaze; I offered a bland smile that hinted at nothing yet invited everything. Embarrassment flared anew, but she didn't look displeased.

Progress.

After an hour we reached a rocky outcrop overlooking a narrow gorge. At its base foamed a brook so clear I could see trout flicker between sunbars. Liliana knelt and touched a smear of silvery residue on a moss-covered boulder.

"Unicorn?" I asked.

"I'm not certain. The scent is similar but stronger." She rose slowly. "Whatever left this passed less than a day ago and carried potent magic."

A thrill raced up my spine. Fortune favors nerve.

Before I could comment, the underbrush across the brook exploded. A stag twice the size of any mundane deer leapt onto a flat stone. Antlers spread like ivory branches, eyes glowed with lambent gold—and between sharp hooves coiled a mane of crackling teal fire.

"A cerulean hart," Liliana whispered. "They guard sacred glades."

My hand slid to the spear halves strapped across my back. "How territorial?"

"They frighten intruders, but don't usually kill unless provoked." Her ears flattened. "However, if a unicorn is near, the hart may serve as sentinel."

"Meaning we're the provocation." I clicked the halves free, spun them, and joined them with a metallic twist. The extended spear hummed with familiar balance. "Stay behind me."

The hart lowered its antlers. With a roar like surf in a cavern, it charged, water-fire pooling around its hooves. I drew on the brook. Liquid leapt upward, spiraling into a translucent barrier before Liliana. The hart struck my water wall; blue flames hissed, steam billowed, but the wall held.

"Move left," I ordered. Liliana darted aside. I dissolved the wall into twin jets that coiled around the hart's limbs, seeking to pin it. The beast fought, muscles surging as it ripped free with raw strength that snapped liquid chains into rain.

It bounded onto the bank—toward me. Perfect.

I crouched, spear low, and drove forward. The haft's steel butt cracked against the creature's knee joint; the blade tip sliced a shallow line along its flank to mark distance. Not enough to cripple, enough to sting. The hart reared, hooves crashing down with seismic force. I called water again—this time shaping it into a short column that erupted under its chest, knocking the massive body sideways.

Yet even as it toppled, the hart flicked its antlers. One prong skimmed my shoulder, tearing cloth and drawing a warm ribbon of blood. Pain blossomed, sharp enough to blur vision. I rolled, came up in a guard. The hart scrambled upright, bleeding indigo from its side, breathing fury.

Damn, it was fiercer than any animals I had hunted in the Greenwood Forest near Millbrook my village.

"James are you—"

"I'm irritated," I said, voice flat. The beast pawed earth. Good. Anger narrowed opponents' options.

With deliberate slowness I disengaged the spear halves, reversed one, and flicked the locking collar open. Both short spears spun in either hand—a style most foes misjudged. The hart lunged. I ducked under the antlers, water condensing into a slick sheen beneath its forehooves. The beast's weight betrayed it; legs slid sideways. My left spear stabbed between armored ribs, right shaft cracked into its jaw. The hart bellowed, crashed onto its flank.

Before it could rise, Liliana stepped forward, palm out. "Enough!"

Her voice rang with resonance that wasn't wholly human. The hart froze, nostrils flaring. Blood darkened moss, but its golden eyes now held uncertainty.

"Leave this glade to us, guardian," she said in the forest tongue. "We seek only a scent, not a kill."

Silence fell—dense, expectant. Then the massive hart snorted, shakily regained its footing, and limped back toward the brook. At the water's edge it paused, dipped its muzzle. The teal flames extinguished into faint mist. Without further sound, it vanished into brush.

I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, then pressed a water-cooled palm to my sliced shoulder.

I could use my rare healing magic but didn't want yet to use it and show it to Liliana unless I was forced.

Liliana rushed to my side, ears flicking anxiously.

"I have bandages," she said, voice breathless.

"Later." I nodded toward the retreating guardian. "You spoke to it?"

"I convinced it we weren't poachers," she said, cheeks warming under my scrutiny. "It sensed my… beast blood."

"You're full of surprises." I wiped blood from the spearhead, appreciating how her gaze lingered on the flex of muscle beneath the torn coat. "Keep that tongue ready. Some beasts negotiate more readily than humans."

A timid laugh escaped her. "I'm better with animals than people."

"Luckily, I'm adept with both."

The remark earned another blush, deeper this time. Progress indeed.

We skirted the gorge, following faint hoofprints dusted with that same shimmering residue. Midday approached; shafts of light grew slanted, forest scents thickened. Twice Liliana crouched to sniff air, tail flicking with concentration. When I offered a waterskin, our fingers brushed. Her pulse jumped—best heard by me because I listened.

She drank, then glanced up through lashes. "I didn't thank you for saving me. Again."

"You can repay me later," I said, tone rich with implications. "Perhaps over dinner. Somewhere private."

Pink flooded her cheeks. "You never stop negotiating, do you?"

"One must seize opportunities as they wander past."

She opened her mouth—retort or acceptance, I couldn't tell—but the forest answered with a different sound: distant, melodic, unnervingly pure. A single note floated on the air, neither bird nor instrument. Every leaf seemed to tremble.

Liliana sucked in breath. "That… that's it."

My heartbeat quickened. "Song of a unicorn?"

"If not an illusion." She moved forward, almost gliding. "Stay silent."

We progressed another hundred yards before entering a glade so still the very insects muted themselves. Sunlight poured through a break in the silver canopy, striking a narrow pool encircled by white lilies. At its center, knee-deep in crystalline water, stood a creature of impossible grace.

It was smaller than a horse, larger than a goat—snow-white fur that shimmered like nacre, mane drifting as though underwater. From its brow curved a horn of translucent opal, spiraled and faintly pulsing. The creature's cloven hooves rested on the pool's surface as if ice beneath supported it.

Liliana's breath hitched. My own throat tightened—a rare, unbidden awe. But awe is the enemy of profit.

"Remember," I whispered, "we need proof, not poetry."

She nodded, eyes never leaving the beast. Slowly she shrugged off her cloak, letting the cat ears show. A hush rippled through the glade, like unseen beings holding breath. She stepped forward.

Three paces from the water's edge the unicorn raised its head. Its gaze locked on Liliana—then slid to me. I felt rather than heard a vibration, a gentle bass note in my bones. Challenge or curiosity?

Liliana knelt, palms up. "We mean no harm," she whispered in the beast tongue. "But we seek your wisdom."

The unicorn tilted its head. Water lapped, though no wind stirred. I watched, coiled like a drawn bow—because legends rarely omit guardians.

The pool erupted.

A serpentine shadow—cowled in iridescent scales—shot upward, jaws yawning wider than a man's height. An azure drake, river-born and notoriously territorial. Damnably inconvenient.

Instinct trumped hesitation. I thrust Liliana backwards, swung spear halves into full length, and slammed the butt into the ground. Water erupted as I funneled the pool itself into a rising column that met the drake mid-lunge. Liquid impact hammered scales; the drake shrieked, momentum shattered. Yet it twisted instantly, tail whipping toward me like a living mace.

I leapt aside, traded spear to left hand, and slashed. Steel kissed scale, sparks flew, only shallow groove carved. The drake's tail still clipped my ribs—felt like a battering ram of wet granite. Stars burst in my vision, breath ripped away.

Liliana shouted, but I couldn't answer; body moved faster than thought. I slammed palm to earth, summoned groundwater into razor-filament streams that snared the drake's foreclaws. For half a second it struggled. Not enough. Claws ripped free, water whistled useless.

It lunged again—this time at Liliana. She froze, too close to dodge. Choice made itself.

"DOWN!" I roared, diving between them. Water surged under my boots, propelling my body like a hurled spear. I met the drake's open jaws with my own weapon, blade first. Steel pierced palate; I rammed upward until hilt struck teeth. The beast roared molten fury, blood sluicing warm over my hands.

That should have ended it. It didn't.

The drake convulsed, jaws snapping shut around my spear haft. The lock collar groaned. I shoved right hand forward, powering a geyser through its throat wound. A torrent erupted from the wound's exit at its nape—spraying crimson and cobalt scales skyward. The drake staggered, but instinct kept its death-throes lethal. It whipped its head, flinging me across the glade.

Mid-air I twisted, slammed a water cushion between ribs and ground to break the fall. Pain still burst—bruises blooming—but bones held.

When vision cleared, the drake lay thrashing, pool dyed red. My spear, snapped mid-shaft, jutted from its jaw like a grotesque flag. Fury flared—precious weapon ruined.

I scrambled upright just as the beast lurched one final time, then sagged. Silence returned, broken only by Liliana's ragged breathing.

She ran to me, eyes wide with fear and something fiercer—admiration? "Harold, you're bleeding."

"It's fashionable today." Blood oozed from ribs, shoulder, palm—superficial gashes mostly. "More importantly—the unicorn?"

We turned together. The pool was empty.

Ice flooded my gut. "Did it vanish while I wrestled the lizard?"

"No." Liliana pointed toward the tree line. "Look."

On the far side of the glade, beneath drooping willow fronds, the unicorn stood watching us. But it was no longer alone. A smaller shape leaned against its flank—a foal, shaky-legged, fur like dawn fog. The adult's horn glowed, bathing the foal in silver.

Understanding crashed: a mother defending her newborn. The hart sentinel, the drake, even the magical stillness—all protective measures.

The unicorn stepped forward, luminous eyes meeting mine. I felt scrutiny colder and older than stone—measuring intent, tallying sins. Then she dipped her head once. Liliana inhaled, as if receiving silent benediction. The mare nudged her foal and melted into forest shadows. Glade light dimmed; ordinary birdsong returned.

We stood rooted, the air suddenly mundane.

Liliana exhaled a shaky laugh. "I think we've been judged and—barely—found acceptable."

"Which is annoying," I muttered, "because acceptable pays nothing." Still, awe hadn't fully faded, and I could not deny the brush of something… cleansing inside my cynical heart.

Liliana knelt by the waterline where the mare had walked. A single pearlescent scale glimmered among lilies—actually not a scale at all, but a thin shaving of horn, less than the width of my thumbnail. She lifted it reverently.

"Molted fragment," she whispered. "Proof enough."

I crouched beside her, our knees nearly touching. "It will fetch a fortune—more if buyers believe it genuine."

"It is genuine," she said, indignant.

"Belief, reality—markets pay by faith." I brushed an escaped lock behind her ear, letting my knuckles graze velvety fur. She trembled but didn't pull away.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"For what?"

"Not killing the hart. Risking yourself against the drake. Respecting her judgment at the end." She looked up, eyes impossibly red yet luminous. "I misread you last night. There's honor beneath all that careful deceit."

I leaned closer until only inches separated us. "Honor is selective. Very much like desire."

Her breath caught. "J…James…"

"Yes?"

She seemed to battle herself, then shook her head, cheeks blazing. "We… we should treat your wounds. And we have to return before sunset."

Pragmatic to the end. I liked that. I straightened, masking disappointment with a playful sigh. "Duty before pleasure, then. Help me salvage what's left of my spear."

Together we pried the shattered halves from the drake's corpse.

The journey back proved mercifully uneventful. Liliana set a devouring pace, following her uncanny sense to avoid predator trails. Near the gorge we skirted the hart's range; I felt its gaze but it made no move to challenge us. Perhaps unicorn judgment carried authority among forest denizens.

At the mile-stone Bram waited as promised, dozing on the bench. He startled awake when we climbed aboard.

"Productive excursion, m'lord?" he asked, eyes squinting at my ragged coat.

"Enlightening," I said. "We discovered precisely what we sought."

Liliana smiled into her lap, fingertips brushing the hidden horn shard inside her pouch.

The carriage wheels turned; fields unfolded; afternoon sun tilted west. I used the lull to seal wounds with water-cooled numb-paste, wincing only when Liliana's nimble fingers tied the last bandage around my ribs. She worked with gentle focus, but whenever our skin met her ears betrayed flustered pleasure.

"There," she pronounced softly.

I caught her hand before she could withdraw. "You saved me in the glade. Your voice stayed the hart. Your courage drew the unicorn. Today's success is as much yours as mine."

She swallowed. "Still—thank you for trusting me."

"Trust," I repeated, brushing my thumb across her knuckles. "A rare commodity. I'd like more of it between us."

Her eyes darted to Bram's back, then returned to mine. Bravery flickered there—a willingness to believe. "Earn it," she whispered.

Challenge accepted. I kissed her knuckles, slow enough for intent to scorch between us, then released her.

By the time we reached the city gates the first lamps sparked alive. Bram dropped us three streets from the inn; I dismissed him with a second silver stag and a fabricated tale of successful orchid cataloging. Once alone, Liliana pressed the horn fragment into my palm.

"Keep it until my debt is cleared," she said. "Even slivers sell high."

"I'll deliver the coin by tomorrow night," I promised. "For now, hide at the inn again."

She nodded, but lingered. The shadows made her eyes glow like embers. "Harold… about dinner?"

"When I return from lectures tomorrow." I stepped into her space, just enough to tilt her chin. "Wear something that doesn't hide your ears. I find them distracting in the best way."

Color flooded her cheeks, but she smiled—a real, playful curl of lips. "Flatterer."

I smiled and I resisted the urge to kiss her properly—timing was everything—then turned and strode toward the Lindow mansion.

Night's chill grew, mingled with warmth of impending triumph. I carried a fist-sized shard of unicorn horn, a half-broken spear, bruised ribs, and the memory of Liliana's flushed smile.

More importantly, I carried options: money to grease academy politics, influence to wield among collectors, and an ally whose loyalty might be forged through equal parts necessity—and seduction.

Anyway when I reached the Lindow Mansion I had already healed all my wounds with Healing Magic and went stealthily back to my room upstairs without even greeting Alicia or the Viscount otherwise they would notice my torn clothes.

Anyway after taking a bath, I slumped on the bed ready to sleep.

Tomorrow is the second day of the academy which mean starts truly the academy.