PEARL’S POV
When dawn breaks and they come for me, I’m already awake.
I’m sitting by the window in the high chamber that Mendel’s servants set up for me, knees pulled close under a heavy wolf-fur blanket. The frost on the glass creates these wild, beautiful patterns; I trace them lightly with my finger, imagining them as branches from the orchard, even if I’m not free.
The iron bars aren't slicing my wrists, and the walls here don't hear Kaela's whispers because this isn't Pandara.
In this place, I’m something different. At least, that’s what Mendel keeps telling me.
A knock slices through the quiet. I flinch but then remember: no one enters without my permission.
I say, "Come in," in a hardly audible voice.
The door creaks open, and in come two servants wearing Ironhold blue, heads
