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

The next three hours passed in what felt like mere moments, though I could sense the growing fatigue among my classmates as Elara guided us through increasingly complex material. What had begun as basic plant identification evolved into discussions of compound interactions, seasonal variations in potency, and the delicate art of adjusting preparations based on individual patient needs.

For me, it was effortless. Every question she posed seemed to unlock another chamber in the vast library of knowledge my mother had built within my mind. When she asked about the optimal harvesting time for moonbell flowers, I knew without hesitation that they should be collected during the third phase of lunar waxing, when their luminescent properties were most concentrated. When she inquired about potential adverse reactions between feverfew and bloodroot, I could recite not only the symptoms but the traditional antidotes used to counteract them.

"Remarkable," Elara murmured after my explanation of why certain preservation techniques worked better in different climates. "Harold, your understanding goes far beyond what most apprentice healers achieve even after years of formal training."

I could feel the weight of my classmates' stares—some impressed, others perhaps resentful of how easily the material came to me. Larcus, my lab partner, shook his head with a mixture of admiration and disbelief. "I thought I knew herbs," he said quietly, "but listening to you... it's like watching a master craftsman at work."

Even students from other pairs had begun turning to listen when I answered Elara's more challenging questions. A girl with intricate braids kept taking notes on my responses, while a serious-looking young man near the back nodded thoughtfully at my explanations of complex extraction techniques.

Perhaps I had been too eager to demonstrate my knowledge. The gap between my understanding and that of my peers was becoming uncomfortably obvious. But Elara's genuine enthusiasm for the subject, combined with her encouraging teaching style, made it difficult to hold back. When she posed a question about the theoretical applications of rare mountain herbs, I found myself describing preparation methods that most healers would consider advanced professional secrets.

"Extraordinary," she breathed, her eyes bright with academic excitement. "You've just described a technique I've only seen referenced in centuries-old texts. Where did you encounter such knowledge?"

"My mother's knowledge was... extensive," I replied carefully. "She believed that a healer should understand not just common practice, but the principles underlying all healing arts."

The final bell of the morning chimed, its bronze voice echoing through the classroom and drawing a collective sigh of relief from students who looked mentally drained. Books snapped shut, chairs scraped against stone floors, and the general bustle of class dismissal filled the air.

But instead of gathering her materials and departing as I expected, Elara approached my desk with purposeful steps. The classroom gradually emptied around us, though I noticed several students lingering near the doorway, clearly curious about this unprecedented individual attention.

"You have extraordinary knowledge for your age, Harold," she said, her voice carrying that same warmth that had characterized her teaching throughout the morning.

"As I mentioned, my mother used to create herbal concoctions in our village of Millbrook," I replied, maintaining the careful balance of truth and omission that had become second nature. "I helped her on many occasions and learned from her since I was a child."

Something in her expression shifted—not disappointment at learning of my common origins, but genuine appreciation for the dedication such an education represented. "That's truly impressive. Most young people from rural communities rarely receive such comprehensive training, regardless of their natural aptitude."

Her lack of condescension struck me as remarkable. Truly a very interesting woman…

"I am eager to learn more from you, teacher," I said, flashing a grin.

Her smile in response was radiant. "And I would be delighted to help you advance your studies. Please, don't hesitate to visit my laboratory in the research building. I have a feeling you would find the work there fascinating—we're currently investigating several preparation techniques that I suspect would interest someone with your background."

"I will definitely take you up on that offer, Professor."

She nodded with evident satisfaction, gathered her materials, and departed with the same graceful confidence she'd displayed throughout the morning. I watched her go, already planning how I might best utilize the opening she'd provided.

I was still organizing my thoughts when I became aware of a presence near my desk. Looking up, I found myself face-to-face with a strikingly beautiful young woman whose golden hair caught the morning light streaming through the tall windows. Her amber-orange eyes held a mixture of amusement and something that might have been fondness.

Princess Eleanora Lorendia.

"It's been a while, Harold," she said, her smile carrying the warmth of genuine friendship.

"Oh, Your Highness, you do remember me after all," I replied, injecting just the right note of surprised pleasure into my voice.

Her expression shifted to an adorable pout. "Of course I remember! How could I forget how you helped my brother and me escape from Hannah's watchful eye at the castle?"

Hannah. The memory surfaced clearly now—the royal siblings' stern maid who had pursued them through the castle after William had been dragged away by Eleanor to meet Judith.

"Even though she did eventually find us," I said with a chuckle.

Princess Eleanora's laughter was like silver bells, drawing curious glances from the few students still lingering in the corridor outside. "Indeed, but we had such a wonderful time."

"How is Prince William?" I asked, very curious about that Prince.

I hoped he really didn't became a scumbag though with Eleanor not having changed a bit in her nice personality I had high hopes for William as well.

"He's doing very well, actually. He's still incredibly grateful for the advice you gave him three years ago. He's been working diligently to prove himself worthy of marrying Harriet, despite Father's continued insistence on the Briaran alliance."

Count Dekalan's daughter—a sweet girl from what he told me, though her family's political position made her an unlikely choice for a crown prince. The King's preference for Princess Judith of Briaran made strategic sense, but affairs of the heart rarely aligned neatly with political necessity.

"I'm pleased if I was able to help His Highness in some small way," I said diplomatically.

"You did more than help—you probably saved him from making several terrible mistakes." Princess Eleanora's expression grew more serious for a moment before brightening again. "But Harold, I must admit I'm shocked to see you here at all. I saw you at the diplomatic reception with Queen Emma and Princess Judith, but I never imagined you would also be attending Erestia Academy."

There was genuine curiosity in her voice, along with something that might have been concern. The royal family's interactions with commoners were typically limited to very specific circumstances, and my presence in multiple contexts would naturally raise questions.

"Because I'm a commoner?" I asked, raising an eyebrow with deliberate provocation.

"Of course not!" She protested immediately, but when she caught sight of my knowing smile, her expression shifted to that familiar pout. "You shouldn't tease royalty like that, you know."

"I apologize, Your Highness. Please don't have me executed," I said with exaggerated solemnity.

"I... I won't!" she replied, her voice rising enough to attract attention from passing students. The sudden awareness that she was creating a scene brought a flush of embarrassment to her cheeks, reminding me that despite her royal bearing, she was still quite young.

"Eleanora, you know this person?"

The interruption came from a tall blond hair young man of my age with the kind of perfectly arranged appearance that spoke of hours spent with personal attendants. Brian Mossward, son of Duke Mossward, approached with the territorial wariness of someone protecting what he considered his own interests. His eyes fixed on me with undisguised suspicion.

"Yes, he's a friend of mine," Princess Eleanora replied with the kind of genuine warmth that made Brian's jaw tighten almost imperceptibly.

"Oh, you know Harold too, Eleanora?"

Rumia's voice cut through the growing tension as she joined our impromptu gathering. Regina and Lucy flanked her, while I caught sight of Alicia hovering uncertainly near the classroom door, clearly torn between joining us and maintaining respectful distance from royalty.

"You know him, Rumia?" Princess Eleanora asked very surprised.

"He's the childhood friend I've told you about..." Rumia's response carried an undercurrent of something that might have been suspicion as she studied my face.

I realized with a start that Rumia had no idea about my connections to the royal court. I hadn't told her three years ago why I came to the capital not that I met the royal siblings in the royal castle.

"Oh!" Princess Eleanora's eyes went wide with recognition and what looked distinctly like mischief. "So the mysterious, amazingly strong, cool, talented, handsome, and very arrogant childhood friend you described is Harold?"

The words hung in the air like a challenge, and I found myself turning to stare at Rumia with raised eyebrows. That was quite the description she'd apparently been sharing with her royal friend.

Rumia's face went through several shades of red before settling on a color that roughly matched ripe cherries. "Eleanora!" she hissed, mortification evident in every syllable.

Princess Eleanora's giggle was melodious and utterly unrepentant, though something in her expression had shifted as she studied my face with renewed interest. "Rumia has told me so much about you over the years, but I should have connected the dots earlier. So it's really you..." Her voice trailed off as her amber eyes traced my features, and I caught the subtle flush that crept up her neck. "I suppose he is indeed quite..." she murmured, almost to herself.

"Eleanora."

Brian Mossward's sharp interruption cut through whatever the princess had been about to say. His jaw was set in a way that suggested barely contained irritation, and his blue eyes held a warning that was clearly directed at me.

"O-oh, yes?" Princess Eleanora blinked as if suddenly remembering where she was, her cheeks deepening to a shade that rivaled Rumia's earlier embarrassment. She glanced at Brian with the kind of guilty expression that suggested she'd been caught in some minor impropriety.

"We shouldn't waste time lingering here," Brian said, his tone carrying the authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed. "The dining hall will be crowded soon, and it would be unseemly for Your Highness to be late for the midday meal."

His words were perfectly proper, but the underlying message was crystal clear: stop talking to the commoner and remember your station. I had to admire his technique—he'd managed to assert territorial dominance while maintaining plausible deniability about his true motives.

"That... is quite right," Princess Eleanora agreed, though I caught the brief flicker of disappointment in her eyes. She turned back to me with a smile that seemed to hold promises of future conversations. "Harold, please don't hesitate to visit my brother. William is a third-year student, and he would be delighted to see you again."

The invitation was clearly genuine, and I filed it away as another useful connection to cultivate. "I'll be sure to look for him, Your Highness."

Princess Eleanora's smile brightened considerably before she allowed Brian to escort her toward the corridor, his hand hovering possessively near her elbow without quite touching. I watched them go, noting how Brian's shoulders relaxed once he'd successfully removed the princess from my vicinity.

"Since when do you know the Princess of Lorendia?"

Rumia's question voiced what I could see written across every face in our small group. Regina and Lucy were staring at me with expressions of barely contained curiosity, while even quiet Alicia had stepped closer, clearly desperate to understand this new revelation about the person she'd thought she knew.

"I met her by coincidence a few years ago," I said, keeping my tone deliberately casual.

Rumia's eyes narrowed with the kind of suspicious intelligence that had always made her dangerous to underestimate. "You expect me to believe that? Harold, she spoke about you like she knew you well. And that diplomatic reception she mentioned—when exactly were you mingling with foreign royalty?"

Her questions hit very close to truths.

"It's complicated," I said finally, which was both honest and utterly uninformative. "We should hurry to the dining hall before all the good seats are taken."

Rumia's pout was fierce enough to melt steel. "Don't think this conversation is over, Hal. I want answers."

"I'm sure you do," I replied with a smile that I knew would only irritate her further. But her curiosity, while dangerous, was also oddly endearing. Few people in my life had ever cared enough to demand honesty from me.

Regina nudged Lucy with her elbow. "Did you hear that description she gave? 'Amazingly strong, talented, handsome, and very arrogant'—"

"Regina!" Rumia's mortification reached new heights. "We are not discussing this!"

Lucy's giggle was infectious. "Oh, but we absolutely are. Later, when we don't have an audience."

Alicia had remained silent throughout this exchange, but I could see questions burning in her green eyes. She was too well-mannered to voice them in front of others, but her curiosity about my mysterious connections was written clearly across her expressive features.

As we made our way toward the dining hall, weaving through corridors filled with chattering students, I became aware of a familiar and unwelcome presence. Near the entrance to the dining hall, Borin Ironroot stood with his usual companions—two hulking boys whose names I hadn't bothered to learn but whose hostility was unmistakable.

Borin's dark eyes found mine across the crowded corridor, and the hatred I saw there was pure and uncomplicated. I think jealousy was added in all negative feelings he had toward me after seeing me this friendly with Princess Eleanora.

I really have to deal with them somehow…