Chapter 117: _ You’re into Girls?!

My throat felt bone-dry as Bren’s question echoed in my ears.

Why did I let him? What the hell was I thinking?

I sank lower onto the floor. I stared at my own trembling hands, going entirely sober as the lingering haze of pleasure, terror, and adrenaline finally cleared out, leaving behind a hollow truth.

"I... I don’t know," I repeated, the words barely a breath. I looked up at Bren. "Why did I? Bren, I ask myself the same thing."

Bren didn’t interrupt. She just leaned against the edge of the shattered desk with her arms crossed, watching me with a searching look.

"When he touched me..." I started, swallowing past the lump in my throat as I tried to put something terrifying into words. "It wasn’t just physical. The moment his skin met mine, it was like... like my blood was on fire. The wolf mark on my neck started burning, and suddenly his mind was inside mine. I could feel his heartbeat in my chest, his hunger, his pull. It’s like this invisible chain that yanks you toward them, and no matter how hard you try to fight it, your body just... surrenders."

I let out a self-deprecating laugh, wiping my cheek with the back of my hand. "Gods, I sound stupid, don’t I? I sound like a desperate, pathetic girl making excuses for letting a royal prince take her against a wall."

"Actually... You don’t." Bren said quietly.

I blinked, taking a second to process the sudden shift in her tone. "I don’t?"

"No," Bren exhaled a long breath, dragging a hand over her face before crossing her arms tightly over her chest again. She looked away, her jaw flexing as if she were swallowing nails. "You don’t sound stupid at all."

I frowned, pushing myself up from the floor and stepping toward her. "Bren... what’s going on?"

Bren stood there for a long moment, looking everywhere in the ruined room except at me. Bren was the tough one. She was the stoic, iron-willed girl from Redmere who never flinched, never cried, and certainly never talked about feelings. Watching her squirm was like watching a mountain try to turn into a cloud.

When she finally spoke, her voice was so low, I had to strain to hear it.

"I thin... I think Warden Clement is my mate."

My jaw dropped so fast I genuinely thought it was going to hit the shattered floorboards. "Warden... Clement?!"

"Keep your voice down! Do you want the entire West Annex to hear you?!"

"Warden Clement?!" I squeaked again, completely ignoring her warning. I gasped, my hands flying to my mouth. I knew there had been a weird tension between the rugged, brooding commander and Bren—they were always staring a second too long; Bren would always question him... but mates?!

"Bren, he’s like... ten years older than us!"

"I know!" Bren groaned, burying her face in her hands. "You think I haven’t calculated the age gap every single time I’ve had to stand in front of him and act like I feel nothing?! I know!"

"And he’s the Warden!" I continued, leaning in with wide eyes. "He’s literally the head of academy security! An initiate-warden mate bond would cause a disaster!"

"Again, I know!" Bren snapped, throwing her hands up in exasperation, though the red flush on her ears betrayed her completely. "That’s why I haven’t said a damn word to anyone! He’s a Warden, I’m a first-year initiate, and with this entire nightmare happening over Tobin’s murder, he’s barely sleeping as it is. He hasn’t made a move, and I don’t blame him."

I looked at my tough, stoic friend, seeing the subtle tremble in her hands. "Bren... don’t judge it yet. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about these stupid mate bonds over the last few days, it’s that they come with endless surprises. But when you finally stop fighting it... the feeling of being with your mate is too good to pass up."

Bren fell quiet. She stared down at her rope-burned wrists and sighed:

"That’s... that’s actually what’s holding me back. It’s not just the age gap, or the fact that he’s my commander."

"Then what is it?"

Bren swallowed hard, looking up at me with tormented eyes. "I don’t know why the Flame God fated me to a male... when I’m attracted to females."

The room went dead silent.

I stared at her and my lips parted as the pieces of Bren’s secretive puzzle finally clicked together.

Bren is into girls?!

I’d heard of shifters like that but I have also heard about how the shifter society condemns them.

"I had someone back in Redmere," Bren continued quietly. "We were together for two years. But her parents ended up betrothing her to a noble boy from the upper district, and... well, we split up. When I came to Last Bastion, I swore I was done with romance. But then I saw a girl on my very first day here—fell for her at first sight. I thought that was going to be my life."

She let out a dry laugh. "And then Warden Clement stood before us. The moment he stepped near me, that same crazy, magnetic pull you just described slammed straight into my chest. I fought it. I hated it. But every time he’s near... my whole body betrays me."

"Wait," I interjected, my brain working in overdrive as I looked at her. "Who was the girl at Last Bastion? The one you fell for at first sight?"

Bren immediately clamped her mouth shut. "That’s none of your business, glitch."

"Bren!" I groaned, half-laughing despite the mess around us. "You can’t drop a bomb like that and then keep her name secret!"

"Watch me. You have enough royal chaos on your plate." Bren retorted, crossing her arms stubbornly, though the ghost of a small smirk touched her lips.

"Fine," I huffed with a dramatic roll of my eyes. "I’ll find out later anyway."

My smile faded slightly as I looked at her. "Why didn’t you tell us, Bren? Why didn’t you tell Miriel or me?"

Bren paused and looked at the shattered remains of the room, then back at me. When our eyes met, I saw the heavy realization settle over her face.

"Because..." Bren whispered, rubbing the back of her neck in genuine remorse. "Talking about it is hard. It’s scary, and it makes you feel like your whole life is slipping out of your control."

She stepped closer to me, reaching out to take both of my hands in hers.

"Elira... I’m sorry," Bren mused, looking straight into my eyes. "I was wrong to judge you so harshly. I can only imagine how terrifying it must have been for you—sitting in this room night after night, listening to Miriel gush about Ivar, knowing he was pulling you into a bond you never asked for."

Tears welled up in my eyes again, but this time, they weren’t tears of shame. They were tears of overwhelming relief.

Someone understood. Someone finally got it.

"Thank you, Bren," I choked out, squeezing her hands tightly.

"Hey," Bren said, giving my hands a reassuring shake. "We’re in this together, okay? You, me, and Miriel.You made a mess, and Miriel is furious right now, but she’ll come around. She just needs time to process that her fantasy blew up in her face. We’re not letting this break us."

I nodded desperately, wiping my eyes. I was not alone. As someone who had lived her entire life in Stonwick feeling alone, that was such a beautiful feeling I never wanted anything to soil.

Then, I turned my head, looking around at the obliterated state of Room 3B: the shattered desk, the overturned trunks, and the two empty chairs with snapped anti-magic ropes still hanging from their arms.

My brow furrowed.

"Bren, what actually happened here before I walked in? Who tied you two up?"