No one spoke. We sat there for a long time, in silence, no sound save for the usual hum of the evening outside, soft winds, night birds and crickets. The only addition to the evening din was the hum that emanated from Kenzi’s skin.
I turned to look at the rest of the room. Dreya bit her lip, worried. “When were you planning on telling me this?”
My grandmother sighed.
“Probably never,” she said, matter-of-factly. “It was safer to pretend like he just ran away. Was just a regular father, afraid of settling down into his destiny. Your mother was just a teenager like you, working the fields with me, harvesting crops. We found your father in the fields, and I didn’t lie to you about that. He already had his Ink. But it had unleashed his natural powers. Inked Conduits are especially dangerous, because you add Ink Magic on top of their inherent Magic.” She paused and looked over at Kenzi, a sad expression on her face. “He needed to hide from the Citadel, and he ended up here.”
“But why?” I asked.
“You don’t understand, Caenum,” my grandmother said. She left the windowsill and walked back over to the group. “If people knew what he was,” she said this with a wince, and then a sidelong glance toward Kenzi, “or what your newfound friend here is, the Citadel would never stop trying to find them. They never stopped hunting your father. When your mother found him,” my grandmother said, shaking her head, a small sad smile on her face, “we gave him clothes, and Dreya’s mother made a concoction of wildflowers and mud to help cover up the illuminated Ink on his neck.”
“That doesn’t explain why you hid this from me,” I stated. “What’s the worst that could have happened?”
“Caenum,” she began, “the Citadel hunts the Conduits. Most are dragged off and are never seen again. The rest”—she closed her eyes in pain—“well . . .”
“Well what?” I asked.
“If they’re too far away from the Citadel, or causing trouble, or too many people have seen them . . .” My grandmother buried her face in her hands, and then looked back up at us. “They’re killed in horrible, horrible ways. They call it Extraction.”
“Extraction?” I echoed.
“I don’t know much about it,” she said, a grim look on her face. “They use machines to leech a Conduit’s Magic. Years later, after you were born, the Citadel finally came looking for your father. He left to protect us. He had no choice but to flee to a village where Conduits are supposed to be safe in a secret location. They call it the Sanctuary,” she continued, “and. I’m sure he made it there. He had to. Just like this one will.”
She stopped and looked over at Kenzi, who had been quiet throughout her explanation. “What?” he asked. “What do you mean?”
My grandmother sighed. “You’re going to have to run, Kenzi.”
“Why?” Kenzi asked, panicked. His Ink cracked loudly.
“They’re looking for you. No one knew about Caenum’s father the way they know about you.” My grandmother walked to the door, pulled her cloak off a hook, and slowly put it on.
“Um, Grandmother . . . ,” I started, standing and walking toward her. “What are you doing?”
“Dreya’s father is already making the boy an escape pack with things he’ll need to survive out there, just like the one we put together for Lo’en.” My father’s first name, a name everyone tried to avoid saying, stung my ears like a wasp. “Dried herbs, medicines, spices, and other goods to trade along the way.” She glanced over at Kenzi and shook her head, frowning. “It’s going to be a hard trip for us, and we’ll take whatever we can spare, but with the Glacialis coming—”
“Wait a second!” I exclaimed, moving in front of the door, looking from my grandmother to Kenzi to Dreya and back.
My grandmother looked at me with red, weary eyes.
My heart raced. I knew what she was about to say.
“Caenum,” my grandmother started. “I have to take him.”
“I can’t let you do that.” I looked from my grandmother to Kenzi. “I’ll do it. I’ll go.”
“What, why?” Dreya stood up. “You’re not the one shooting lightning bolts out of your hands.” She glanced over at Kenzi, “No offense, but you’re on your own.”
I looked back and forth, from Dreya to my grandmother. “What happens when the Citadel sends their Guard here, to hunt down Kenzi?”
Dreya shrugged, “What does that matter? Remember, Molivar said he was Unprinted. They don’t know about his Magic!”
My grandmother smiled sadly. “Oh, they know. Didn’t his story feel a little too elaborate? They’ll come after him.”
There was a pause. I looked toward the window, saw, out of the corner of my eye, a flicker, a spark.
“Caenum, what . . . ?” began my grandmother. I held a finger up to my lips and peeked through the frosted glass window. For a second, I thought I heard the soft rumbling of voices. “Something is . . . ,” I started.
The front door swung open with a bang as Dreya’s father burst in with three small packs bundled in his arms, sending teacups crashing to the hard dirt floor. He pushed a pack into my grandmother’s hands, to Kenzi, and lastly to Dreya, who looked up at him with a stricken look.
“If you’re leaving,” he said to my grandmother, his stern brow furrowed, “you’re taking Dreya with you.”
“What?” Dreya demanded, looking down at the pack aghast. “I don’t think so.”
“Caenum is going instead of me,” my grandmother said, handing me the pack. “He’ll take them into the woods, and toward the Sanctuary.”
“I’m not going anywhere!” shouted Dreya.
“Do you think that’s wise?” Dreya’s father asked, giving me a skeptical look.
“If his father managed the journey, I’m sure he can handle it. And once he masters his gift, Kenzi can protect him and Dreya.”
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here!” yelled Dreya, throwing her pack on the floor. “I’m not leaving!”
“There is no time to argue,” Dreya’s father said sternly, picking up the bag and pressing it back into Dreya’s hands, which promptly dropped it again. He looked over at me and Kenzi. “You two! Take her. Make sure she stays safe!” And then he turned to my grandmother, his eyes black. “They’re here.”