The Inkling

By K.T. Ivanrest

Magic was supposed to make stealing easier.

Ever since her parents' deaths, Yeta has been stuck stealing in order to pay back their debt to the city's most dangerous crime lord. Though she clings to her dream of one day attending the prestigious Academy, the closest she's managed to get is impersonating a student and using her aptitude for ink magic to aid in her thefts.

But when her ink dragon inexplicably develops a mind of its own, debt is the least of her worries. With an arrogant Academy student as her only ally, she'll have to get back what her inkling stole--or more than her future could be at stake.

• Language: English
• Publisher: K.T. Ivanrest
• Release date: May 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386289517

Book preview

The Inkling

K.T. Ivanrest

© K.T. Ivanrest 2018

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for use of brief quotations in a book review.

to Luca, Luka, LEWKAH, Lukah, and Julie

Yeta adjusted her uniform one last time before pushing the heavy shop door open and strolling in as though she weren’t about to rob the place.

Her stolen Academy robes did their job as always: the boy behind the counter promptly asked if she needed assistance, then returned just as quickly to his work when she assured him that she knew what she wanted and where to find it.

She didn’t mention that it was in the back room.

Writing supplies lined the shelves. Neatly tied stacks of paper, empty journals bound in polished leather or fine fabrics, dozens of colorful quills and styli, and rows and rows of inkwells, standard ink easily accessible to customers, soul ink locked in an elaborate glass cabinet behind the counter.

Yeta knew better than to stare too long at the well-guarded inkwells. Instead she moved toward the quills tucked in a far corner, partially obstructed from the boy’s view by a central display. A few moments of browsing, some experimental twirling of various quills between her faintly trembling fingers, and then she selected one, turned to the little table nearby, and hunched over the scrap paper full of silly messages that customers—mostly students—had written while testing the writing tools.

As she moved, she slid her hand into her robe and extracted her sketch.

The ink dragon slid from the crinkled page as she unfolded it, alighting at her feet and ruffling its wings while she tapped her toe to obscure the sound. Scribbling absently, she focused her will and directed the inkling along the wall, keeping it in the shadows beneath the lowest shelf as it crept toward the entrance to the storage room.

She drew a steadying breath and began outlining an airship on the scrap paper. So far, so—

The front door swung open and she gripped the table to keep herself from spinning around. The dragon halted and tucked itself against the wall, closing its wings tight almost before she willed it to, as if it had a mind of its own and were as afraid of being caught as its Artist.

Evening, Professor Lukka, chimed the shop boy.

A tall,