Chapter 30

CHAPTER 30

A rriving in Ebora was nothing short of chaos; the rebellion had already begun.

The lighthouse hadn’t been lit, but there was no need for it; the entire palace was on fire. Flames licked at the towers and illuminated the columns of smoke billowing up from the turrets. Screams filled our ears and our nostrils were assaulted by the acrid scent of burning homes.

Citizens fled for shelter, clutching their crying children and shouting for loved ones, as Haven Harbor’s soldiers clashed sword against sword with King Raquel’s guards in the streets between the bay and the palace. When our ship sailed into the harbor, no gatekeeper or harbor master met us to ask our business or inspect the vessel. No one directed us to a specific berth or ordered us to pay port dues. In fact, the harbor seemed completely deserted; every able-bodied man was farther up in the town, fighting for control of the capitol.

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, it had to 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 slashed at 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.”

“Let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain. Stay away from me.”

“I can make it up to you!”

“You can’t.”

“Not even if I tell you where your father is?”

“How could you know?” I asked slowly, feet moving at a decreased pace. “I don’t even know how you got here so quickly. I only just arrived.”

“I left a few days before Odette. Right after we were released, she put me on the ship to Ebora sent to intercept the troops, but they beat us here.”

My stomach plummeted. So Curdy had been here for days already? What had he done?

Curdy caught up to me. “I know where your father and the king are.”

“Why would you tell me?”

“I tried to tell the others, but no one believed me.”

“I wonder why,” I drawled, but was tempted nonetheless. “Give me one reason I should trust you.”

“I feel bad about what I did. I want to make it up to you.”

“How do I know you won’t betray me again ?”

“I said I was sorry.”

“And I claimed I was Princess Odette. Saying something doesn’t make it true.”

“Just let me show you. Don’t you want to find your parents? I’m sure all of this”—he gestured at the night where shouts of pain mingled with the screams of frightened children—“is a little overwhelming to walk into.”

My teeth ground together as I glared daggers at Curdy. I would be a fool to trust him, and yet…I didn’t have any better option to find my parents.

“Dahlia, let’s go,” he urged me, taking a step forward, but I threw a hand up.

“I’m thinking, okay?”

“You need to come now .”

His urgency only solidified my suspicions. “You could be lying to me.”

Curdy swore quietly under his breath. “Do you have a better option?”

“I’m not going with you unless you at least hand over your dagger.”

“You won’t stab me with it, will you?” A ghost of Curdy’s old flirtatious smile flickered across his face as he unbuckled the knife and passed it over.

“You’d deserve it,” I grumbled. Once his dagger was tightly gripped in my fist, I prodded Curdy’s back. “Go on then. Show me where they are. And stay where I can see you.”

I threw a glance over my shoulder at where Garrik had been fighting moments before. Did I have time to run and get him? His presence would give me the additional measure of security that I craved. But I couldn’t see him.

Curdy twisted through the backroads, his back stiff as he strode down alleyway after alleyway toward the burning palace. Streets soon gave way to shrubs and trees overshadowed by the glowing ash in the air. Curdy dodged the foliage, still urging me on.

“I thought you said it wasn’t far,” I puffed as I kept up with him.

“ Not far doesn’t mean one street over. It had to be secure. That’s it over there.” He pointed. The safehouse didn’t look particularly safe. It was located a half mile outside the palace’s estate borders, nestled in the forest like a large woodsman’s cottage.

“Here?” I asked him incredulously. I could think of many places that would be much more secure. There weren’t even guards stationed around it. Curdy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, eyes darting from side to side, and my suspicion grew.

“Yeah. Your father told the king he would take him somewhere safe, then brought him here, away from the other guards, while the rebels took the palace. Look and you’ll see.”

I hung back, nervously shifting my weight from foot to foot while scanning the surroundings for any sign of accomplices. It felt uncomfortably silent.

“I’ll go in first if you want,” Curdy offered. He knocked softly on the door and breathed, “Benedict? Are you in there?”

A slight scuffling came from inside the ramshackle hut before the door was flung open.

“Father!” I threw myself at him, sobbing in relief. He wrapped his arms around me for a quick hug and kissed my hair, but then with a hurried look around, pulled me inside while Curdy snapped the door closed.

The safehouse was small and dimly lit, with shadows dancing across the rough stone walls as candles placed on a dusty table flickered and danced. A single, dust-covered window allowed a sliver of moonlight to seep through and cast an eerie glow over the scene.

As my eyes adjusted to the dim interior, I saw King Raquel, gag stuffed into his mouth and arms bound to a chair, sitting in the center of the empty room. I caught my breath. We’d done it. We had won. With Raquel as a bargaining chip, his followers would crumble. The moment stretched longer, surreal as the taste of victory settled over me. Curdy crossed his arms, a clear I-told-you-so expression on his face.

A piercing squeal came from outside, which was quickly stifled. Father opened the door, then beamed. “Garrik! I wondered when you’d get here.”

“I saw Dahlia skulking off with that traitor, but it took me time to follow; I’d just snatched this one”—he shook his load as he ducked under the doorframe—“as she was deboarding. In all the chaos on the docks right now, it was easy.”

He held Odette, who was wriggling and squirming, a venomous expression on her face. At the sight of his daughter, Raquel stiffened in his chair, trying to work the gag out of his mouth by thrashing his head from side to side. Garrik tossed Odette to the dusty wooden floor, where she scrambled backward to hide behind Curdy.

“Well done,” Father congratulated Garrik. “Both of them at once; this is better than I’d hoped for.”

Odette tried to paw her way upright using Curdy to steady herself, but he shrugged her off and crossed to stand behind Garrik instead.

Odette’s eyes darted around the room, taking in each of us in turn. “Let me go, and you can have all the money you want.”

“We don’t want your blood money,” I spat. “We want new leadership.”

“I can offer you positions of power.”

“Funny thing,” Garrik growled. “If we dethrone you, we can assign all the positions of power. You can’t offer anything we don’t already have.”

Odette fixed her gaze on Curdy. “I told you I would give you anything you wanted. I still mean it. All you need to do is alert my guard.”

Curdy’s expression remained impassive, but his fists clenched at his sides.

“He’s not stupid enough to fall for that trick,” I snapped. “See if she has any weapons.”

Curdy strode across the room and pulled Odette’s dagger from her before retreating behind Garrik again. He then jerked his head at Raquel. “Looks like this one is dying to say something.”

Father pulled the gag down. Raquel spat several times, running his tongue back and forth on his teeth to try and rid it of the gag’s taste. After swallowing several times, he looked at his daughter. “Are they coming?”

She nodded, and I exchanged looks with Father and Garrik. Were who coming?

“What are you—” I began, but before I could get any further, Curdy struck. Using the dagger he’d taken from Odette, he plunged it into Garrik’s back.

I screamed as Garrik dropped to his knees and fell face down to the ground. Curdy wrenched the door open and sprinted out into the night, shouting, “Help! Help! The king is under attack!”