Forbidden Desires: Conquering Kingdoms And Women In a Fantasy World! Chapter 56: Departure From Millbrook! [1]

Two days. That was all the ti Isadora had given —two days to prepare for my journey to Erestia’s capital, two days to say goodbye to everything I’d ever known.

And now two days had gone.

I stood in my room, surrounded by the scattered remnants of my packing preparations. My large leather backpack lay open on the bed with everything I deed worthy to take inside. The rest would remain here.

The practical preparations had been the easy part. I’d gathered my traveling clothes, sturdy boots that could handle the long roads ahead, a coil of rope that might prove useful in ways I couldn’t yet imagine, a well-balanced knife, and several small vials of sleeping concoctions. When I’d laid them out together, I’d chuckled darkly at how suspicious the collection appeared—like the kit of so traveling cutthroat rather than a young man seeking his fortune in the capital.

The healing concoctions sat in their own carefully wrapped bundle. Despite having inherited Isabella’s powerful healing magic—a gift so rare that so would indeed kill to possess soone like —I’d learned never to rely solely on one’s abilities. Magic could fail, circumstances could overwhelm even the most talented healer, and in the capital, discretion might prove more valuable than power.

My single book on Ice Magic rested atop my clothes, its worn leather cover a testant to countless hours of study. For two years I’d struggled with this particular school of magic, hampered by the lack of anyone in our village who could demonstrate its intricacies. My assimilation power worked far better when I could observe magic being perford, when I could watch the subtle movents, the flow of energy, the precise ntal focus required. Reading about it was like trying to learn to dance by studying anatomical diagrams.

My bow and quiver occupied one side of the pack and the spear Henrik had made for was also already tucked as well.

Hidden at the very bottom of the pack, nestled between layers of clothing where prying eyes would never find it, lay my blue mask.

But for all my ticulous preparations, there remained one farewell I hadn’t been able to accomplish.

Isabella.

For two days, she had been like a ghost haunting our small ho. She barely erged from her room, declined als with mumbled excuses, and when she did appear, her eyes held a pain that cut deeper than any blade.

She refused to speak to . Every attempt I made to approach her door was t with silence, and the few tis I’d caught glimpses of her moving through the house, she’d avoided my gaze as if looking at caused her physical pain.

I understood her anger, even if it wounded . Learning about Rosaluna and , about the relationship we’d built in secret, had shattered sothing inside her—not just her trust, but perhaps her image of the boy she’d raised.

But she would and could never hate , rather currently she was hating only herself actually. She was not blaming but blaming only herself.

And I knew her love for hadn’t diminished in the slightest rather the forbidden love had showed great progress even since the revelation and that despite herself.

Heart Weaver was truly a frightening Magic.

Rosaluna had taken a different approach entirely. Where I had chosen to give Isabella space purposefully and raise guilt within her and also understand her own emotions toward , Rosaluna had launched into what could only be described as a campaign. She spent hours outside Isabella’s door, speaking in low, urgent tones about our relationship, trying to explain, to justify, to sohow make Isabella understand that what we shared wasn’t wrong.

And each ti, the sound of the door slamming would echo through the house like a thunderclap, followed by Rosaluna’s footsteps retreating to the living room. When she’d erged into the living room room, her face had been flushed with frustration and unshed tears, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Even though I told her to give so space to mom Rosaluna refused, the main reason being leaving soon. She wanted to nd and get this matter done before I left because I couldn’t tell when I would co back.

By the way my departure would be quite hard for both of them.

Isabella needed my night treatnts to keep her nightmares at bay. Without , those terrors would return, and while I’d asked Rosaluna to care for her in my absence, I wasn’t certain it would be enough.

And Rosaluna herself would struggle with her own nightmares.

I made them fortunately or not addict to my touch and pleasure. And now they will have to deal with nightmares without .

But I had to leave nonetheless.

I had a lot of things to do and among them was to get answers about my family, about the father I’d never known, about the events that had driven Isabella from nobility to this remote village where she’d raised us. The questions had multiplied over the years, but Isabella’s lips had remained sealed whenever I’d asked about our origins.

Why had a noblewoman fled to obscurity? What had driven her from courts and councils to a simple healer’s life in a village most maps forgot to ntion? And what role had my father played in that story? Clearly not a good one.

"That should be all," I muttered to myself, surveying my packed belongings one final ti. Everything I deed essential for the journey ahead was secured in the sturdy backpack, leaving behind only the life I’d known and the people who’d shaped .

I’d dressed for travel in the practical clothes of a well-to-do commoner: a sturdy coat that would turn aside rain and wind, a simple shirt that wouldn’t mark as either peasant or noble, breeches that would survive long hours in the saddle, and boots that Henrik had declared "suitable for whatever road you find yourself walking." The clothes spoke of modest prosperity without advertising wealth that might attract unwanted attention.

Standing before the small mirror that had reflected my face through countless mornings, I studied the young man looking back at .

I was truly very handso.

Even more than in my past life which was quite impressive.

The soft creak of my door interrupted my reflection. I turned to see Rosaluna entering.

"Are you ready?" Rosaluna asked. There was sadness there, certainly, but beneath it lay sothing that resembled... acceptance? Perhaps even a quiet resolve that surprised . Had she truly made peace with my departure in these final hours?

I adjusted the straps of my pack one last ti. "Yes, I am. Is mom awake?"

Isadora would be arriving soon with the carriage she’d arranged, along with the n who would escort us to the capital. There, her mysterious connections would help secure my place in the entrance examination for the Erestia Royal Academy—an opportunity that still felt too extraordinary to be real.

Rosaluna’s face fell, and she crossed her arms defensively. "No... I tried calling to her again, but she didn’t answer." Frustration leaked into her voice, sharp and bitter. "She’s still locked away in there, pretending we don’t exist."

Rosaluna could hardly understand why Isabella’s reaction was this strong but I knew it that was why I was so patient about it but I had to show my lovely sister so performance.

"It’s understandable... and it’s my fault."

"It’s not!" The words exploded from Rosaluna. Her pink eyes flashed with an anger that wasn’t directed at , but at the entire situation that had torn our small family apart. "I told you not to bla yourself for this! You... you were only helping mother, being there for her when she needed you most. And now she’s acting like you committed so unforgivable sin just for showing compassion!"

Her voice cracked slightly on the last words, and I could see the pain she was trying to mask with anger. "Even though you’re leaving for the capital—she can’t even bring herself to co say goodbye!"

I reached out, my palms finding her flushed cheeks, thumbs brushing away the moisture that gathered at the corners of her eyes. "Don’t be angry, big sister," I said gently. "Just for , please take care of mom."

She leaned into my touch despite her frustration.

"The nightmares will return with a vengeance," I continued. "Without to ease her sleep, to hold back the dark mories that haunt her... I won’t be there to help either of you. Please, Rosaluna. I need to know you’ll watch over her."

"I know," she said. She opened her eyes to et mine, and I saw both determination and fear warring in their depths.

A smile tugged at my lips. Then I leaned forward, closing the distance between us, and pressed my lips gently to hers.

The kiss was soft, tender—a promise and a goodbye wrapped into one sweet mont. Rosaluna lted into it, her hands finding the front of my coat as her cheeks blood with the familiar pink flush.

These displays of affection had beco natural to us over these past year, no longer hidden behind excuses or stolen in monts of weakness. We loved each other, purely and completely, and there was nothing shaful in expressing that love.

When we broke apart, her breath was warm against my lips. "I’m going to miss you so much," I whispered.

"I am... as well," she murmured back. For a mont, we simply stood there, foreheads touching, sharing the sa air and dreading the separation that was only minutes away.

"Then let’s go," I said finally. "I don’t want to keep the others waiting."

Rosaluna nodded, straightening her shoulders as if preparing for battle rather than a simple walk through the village. Together, we stepped out of the house that had been my entire world for as long as I could rember.

I’d made a deliberate choice to keep my true destination quiet among the villagers. The idea that soone from our humble settlent might attempt the entrance examination for the most prestigious academy in the Kingdom of Lorendia would spark too many questions, too much jealousy, and inevitably bring unwanted attention to Isabella and Rosaluna in my absence. Better to let people believe I was simply making a short trip to the capital for trade or so other mundane purpose.

The thought that both Rumia and I might end up at the academy was almost too remarkable to contemplate. Two students from the sa forgotten village? It would be the kind of story that would echo through these streets for generations.

As we walked through the familiar paths, several villagers I’d known since childhood waved farewell. Their gestures were casual, unaware that they might be the last I’d see of ho for a very long ti.

The unmarried girls of the village were, as always, more persistent in their attention. They called out invitations to stop and chat, to perhaps steal a few more minutes of conversation before I departed. Under normal circumstances, I would have been happy to exchange pleasantries—it was simply good manners, and most of them were genuinely kind people.

But today, Rosaluna was at my side, and the possessive gleam in her pink eyes could have frozen water in midsumr. Her frosty glares sent the would-be conversationalists scurrying away with mumbled excuses, leaving us to continue our journey in relative peace.

We paused briefly at Henrik’s smithy, where the sound of hamr on anvil had been the soundtrack to so many of my childhood days. The grizzled blacksmith looked up from his work, sweat gleaming on his weathered face, and raised his hamr in salute. Words weren’t necessary between us—we’d said our proper goodbyes yesterday when I’d helped him a bit. He understood and wished good luck as well.

The entrance to the village ca into view all too soon, and with it, the small group gathered to see off. Lisa stood with Riley, both of them wearing expressions that tried to mask their emotions with varying degrees of success. But I noticed imdiately who was missing.

"Your bag is enormous," Lisa said.

"Well, I’m planning to live in the capital, so I had to bring everything I might need."

Riley, who was doing his best to appear unaffected by my departure, couldn’t quite keep the concern from his voice. "Are you going to live there forever?"

I reached out and ruffled his red hair, earning an indignant protest. "Hey! I’m not a kid anymore!"

"Don’t worry," I said, smirking at his wounded dignity. "I’ll co back whenever I can to visit all of you. This isn’t goodbye forever."

"It’s not like I care anyway," Riley muttered, but his eyes were bright with unshed tears that he was trying desperately to hide.

I placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling him try not to lean into the contact. "Take care of Lisa and your sister while I’m gone. You’ll be the only man around to look after them now."

The responsibility seed to straighten his spine a little. "I... I know. I can handle it."

"Where is Zoey?" I asked after. Her absence felt like a missing piece of this farewell, incomplete and sohow wrong.

Riley’s expression darkened, and he scuffed the dirt with his boot. "She’s been crying all night. She probably hates you now."

I glanced at Lisa, who nodded with a wry, sympathetic smile that confird her brother’s assessnt.

There was no way she could truly hate —but I could absolutely believe she’d spent the night in tears. When I’d tried to explain my departure to her yesterday, she’d listened with growing horror before running away without a single word. She knew I was leaving but she didn’t understand the gravity of it until I told her.

"I see," I said quietly. I’d hoped to part with everyone on good terms.

The sound of running footsteps made us all turn.

"H...Harold!"

Zoey...

Her eyes were swollen and red-rimd, the evidence of her sleepless night written clearly across her face.

She didn’t slow as she approached, launching herself at with complete trust that I would catch her. I opened my arms just in ti, staggering slightly under the impact as she collided with and imdiately wrapped her arms around my neck in a desperate embrace.