Page 68 of Betraying Korth

Captain Renshaw hooted with glee. “Looks like the time is ripe for looting, gents!” he shouted, vaulting over the bulwarks to the docks below, where crates and barrels of merchandise must have had been forgotten as merchants rushed to avoid the conflict.

I shook my head, wondering if he had ever cared about the rebellion’s cause or if he simply wanted anarchy so he could pillage unchecked.

Garrik and I scrambled down before the ship had even been properly tied off.

“Dahlia, go hide!” Garrik barked as we dashed toward the houses.

“But…my parents!”

Garrik drew the cutlass he had claimed from the pirate ship and spun it expertly in his hands, prepared for battle. “You aren’t a fighter, Dahlia. You’ve done your part; now it’s time to let us do ours.”

“But—”

“Go!” he insisted. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” He disappeared into the crowd, headed straight for the burning palace.

I stared around frantically, jostled by the refugees seeking safety. Everywhere I looked, terror etched into every citizen’s face as they fled or tried to hastily stack furniture to create a makeshift barricade. My own heart raced.

The once familiar sight of home now looked unrecognizable. A loud splintering came from behind me and I whirled around. Captain Renshaw’s crew were breaking open crates and pulling out their new treasures, gloating over their finds.

I turned away, looking around for any familiar face from the rebellion. There had to be someone I could ask to find out what was going on. The stench of distant smoke mingled with the sea’s salty air and I coughed into my elbow, my senses quickly becoming overwhelmed by the desperate cacophony surrounding me.

I just wanted a few moments to think. Where were my parents?

Heavy boots thudded against the wooden docks as a small band of Haven Harbor’s soldiers ran past, pursuing some of King Raquel’s guards who had retreated deeper into the city. I faded into the shadow of the tall, ominously dark lighthouse. Would I be recognized by any of them?

It didn’t seem likely.

All the soldiers were too preoccupied with assessing the next threat of attack to bother sparing a second glance for a girl in a servant’s dress. Cries from the wounded wailed at the velvety blackness of the sky, and my panic grew. What if one of those voices belonged to my mother or father?

A pang of despair throbbed in my heart. I couldn’t fade into nonexistence, simply waiting to be told what others had done. I hadn’t broken out of prison and voyaged across an ocean to hide and wait for news. If I was going to truly be a part of this rebellion, I would make every moment count until my last breath.

With renewed conviction, I shuffled around the lighthouse, but the fight had moved closer to the palace. The only movement I saw was Captain Renshaw and his men, still digging through the abandoned wares. Another shadow on the horizon, visible only by the moon’s silvery reflection, caught my eye. Another ship was approaching, flying Haven Harbor’s colors.

Korth and Odette.

My sense of urgency grew. If the rebellion was to succeed, ithadto be now. We were out of time.

Throwing caution to the wind, I sprinted away from the shore, arms pumping hard as I ran toward the danger. I had to know what was happening.

I tore through street after street, scanning each face that I saw. Finally, I spotted Garrik once more, engaged in combat with one of Raquel’s men at arms. With a grunt, Garrik slashedat the man’s arm, opening a gash on his bicep. His opponent howled in pain, dropping to a knee to clutch at the wound.

“Garrik!” I shouted. Garrik gave the man a kick and looked around.

“I told you to hide!”

“I need to find my parents!”

“I’ve only been here as long as you have; how should I know where they are?” He pivoted to face his next attacker.

I stumbled back into one of the dark alleys, trying to avoid all the fights. I leaned my head against the back wall, desperate to find any semblance of a rational thought.

“Dahlia, can I talk to you?” The sound of that particular voice made me whip around and instantly wish I knew how to wield a dagger with lethal force. Curdy stood in the shadows, head hung low and wringing his hands.

“No.” I jogged away from him. How dare he even think of talking to me after all he had done?

“I’m sorry!” Curdy hurried after me. “I’m sorry for what I did; I shouldn’t have turned you in. But it all worked out; you’re here now. I knew you’d be let out of prison.”

“No thanks to you.” I snapped, increasing my pace. “You ruined everything.”

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