PEARL’S POV
The world doesn't fall apart when Mendel reveals my identity; instead, a faint tremor in my chest causes it to tremble, creating a c***k in the story of the orchard that could send shivers down my spine if I stand up too awkwardly.
I cannot remember ever sitting down, but here I am seated on a wolfhide bench in his room, knees pressed together beneath the thick cloak the maids have thrown over me.
Mendel stands by the hearth, turned halfway away from me. Ghost, my wolf, sprawls by the door, his yellow eyes darting between me and Mendel, as if he alone knows which one of us might lash out first.
“You believe you’re a stray,” Mendel states, his voice low and gravelly, the kind of growl that makes the Ironhold guards tense up when he walks past.
“You think you crawled out o
