by Kim Smejkal
A place neither of them belonged.
Her mind darted to the name Halcyon like an arrow finding its mark.
Surprisingly calm, Celia wound her hand into Griffin’s hair, pulling him to her by the vulnerable nape of the neck. Griffin accepted it, trembling. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, hugging her tight. His breath and loose hair warmed and tickled her skin. All her butterflies had woken now, they were bursting and bashing against her ribs, trying to punch their way out, recognizing the fight wasn’t over. He’s ours! they screamed as they fluttered. Diavala will not take him, too.
She pulled away enough to cup Griffin’s face with both of her hands and whisper, “Off to Kinallen, then. We will gaze up at those stars, whatever it takes.”
Celia kissed the constellation beside Griffin’s eye and sealed her vow.
Acknowledgments
This started as a seed of an idea, and it took years to grow into the book you hold in your hands. There are so many people who helped make this story happen, and I am deeply grateful to every one of them.
To my incredible agent, Daniel Lazar, who continues to amaze me with his dedication and work ethic. I couldn’t have asked for a more stalwart champion, and—bonus—you’re also a much better therapist than you give yourself credit for. And to Torie Doherty-Munro, who plucked INK out of the slush, fell in love with these characters first, and provides never-ending support in all things great and small.
Huge thank you to my editor, Nicole Sclama, who pushed me to find the best possible version of this story. Your patience, guidance, and enthusiasm have made all the difference in my debut experience, and I am so grateful to have you on my side. Thanks also to Kiffin Steurer, Jessica Handelman, Kaitlin Yang, Diane Varone, Alia Almeida, Anna Ravenelle, John Sellers, Maxine Bartow, and the rest of the team at HMH. Your work remains mostly a mystery to me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it with my whole heart.
Thank you to my early readers, who helped me figure out what this book was about so I could rewrite it: Emily Smejkal, my wonderful sister-in-law, who’s read almost everything I’ve written despite not having slept since 2013. Mary Taranta, a talented writer who needs to put more books out into the world, stat. Dani Sharp Bird, whose insight was so helpful in those early stages. Kimberly Garnick Giarratano, who had more faith than I did that this book would be published. And Jade Hemming, the witchy goddess of my heart, who keeps trying to get me to word sprint even though I’m more of a snail.
To my Pitch Wars mentor, Jessie Devine, who taught me that true revision is painful and wonderful at the same time, and who helped me develop the idea of tenors so the gender representation was as limitless as I could possibly make it. Thanks to Brenda Drake, the Pitch Wars team, and everyone in the PW16 class. I’ve always been a quiet one in our group, but I appreciate all the support and commiseration that continues to this day. Specific thank you’s to Rosiee Thor, Rebecca Schaeffer, Sam Taylor, Tracy Gold, Ernie Chiara, and Erin Luken. You read all, some, or none of INK, but each of you made a huge impact on me, whether you knew it or not.
Special thanks to my sensitivity readers, especially Vee Signorelli. This book is so much better because of your insight. If there are mistakes, I apologize and claim them entirely.
To Emilee Rudd, who gave me the cover of my dreams, and Virginia Allyn, for the wonderful map. Your art is an inspiration.
And now—deep inhale—your turn, Jessika Fleck. There aren’t enough words for how much I value our friendship. You’ve been with me from the start: the first to read my first novel, the first to read INK, and the faithful reader of all those crappy and not-so-crappy books in-between. I feel like I’ve waited to thank you for years (hey wait, I have!) but I want you to know, from the bottom of my old-crone, jaded heart, that you mean the world to me. One day we’re going to meet in person, and even though we’re both awkward, I know it won’t be awkward at all. Especially if I bring my best friend, Tanqueray, along. I love you so much I might even share with you.
To my mom for looking after the kids so I could write this book. You deserve a hundred million thank-you’s, because you probably helped me a hundred million times. I truly couldn’t have done it without you. And to my dad for reading Grimm’s fairytales and Edgar Allan Poe to me when I was far too young and impressionable. I blame you for my macabre side entirely, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I dedicated this book to my grandfather, because he was the first to call me a writer, long before I could claim the title for myself. He said it as if it was no big deal, as if my art was something to be proud of, even if no one else ever saw it. Some days, the echo of his words was the only thing that kept me going. Deda, you would have hated this book (so political! so strange! so violent!) but I know you would have been proud of me anyway.
To my children, Ember and Linden, my two smallest cheerleaders in size but biggest in heart. You’re both so weird and wonderful. Ember (my mini-me), I love your sense of humour, wild imagination, and fiery passion. Linden, I love your peaceful nature, sharp intellect, and infinite compassion. You inspire me every day, my loves. Who would I be, without you?
And last but not least, to my husband, Johnny. You supported this dream of mine through years of highs and lows without wavering. You believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. I’m so lucky to share this life with you.
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About the Author
KIM SMEJKAL lives with her family on Vancouver Island in Canada, which means she’s often lost in the woods or wandering a beach. She writes dark fantasy for young adults and not-so-young adults, always with a touch of magic. Ink in the Blood is her debut novel.
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