The Gracekeepers Read Online Free

losing the rhythm of his steps and making his toes drag. If he didn’t keep his eyes down, the unsteady, too-steady path would trip him. And then he’d stumble, and he’d fall, and his bare hands would have to touch—ugh. As much as she didn’t want his hands in hers, North would catch him to save him from touching the ground.
    Red Gold must have noticed Ainsel’s distraction: he picked up the pace, talking faster and louder, and before North knew it their steps changed to the steadier thud of real land. It felt too solid under her feet, and it made her knees judder. The houses here were not much taller than she was, and there were no tower blocks. Rich people wanted to live as low to the old ground as possible.
    Past the houses, closer still to the island’s center, lay farmland. Red Gold glanced over his shoulder as they climbed the stile; it wasn’t technically illegal for damplings to walk through the farmland, but if a farmer “accidentally” shot them the punishment would be light. North put her sleeve over her mouth. It stank here: mud and plants and the faint reek of animal shit.
    Red Gold paused on top of the stile, spreading his arms to North and Ainsel as if they were his big-top crowd. He spoke in a stage whisper.
    “Now listen, my little ones. Be sure and stick to the paths. The last thing I need is to have to bribe you off a prison boat.” He stepped down from the stile, landing with a thud and striding off down the path.
    “Jarrow, if you don’t mind—if I can ask—” she called after him. “Why are we doing this?”
    Red Gold winced at her volume, glancing theatrically across the fields to the farmhouse. He mimed something that North could not translate, then turned and carried on walking.
    “It’s about the wedding,” said Ainsel in an undertone.
    Everything in North jolted to her throat. “Haven’t you spoken to him yet?”
    “Not yet.” Ainsel fussed with his hair and glanced back at the coracles, although they were lost behind the houses. “Look, I will. But I have to choose the moment properly. I know my father, and I’ll know the right time. Just wait.”
    North wondered what that was like—to know your father. Ainsel was the only one on the
Excalibur
with a parent still alive. He didn’t seem to realize how special it was.
    “You have to tell him, Ainsel. If I say I won’t marry you, he’ll make me leave the
Excalibur
. But he won’t kick out his own son. I just want to stay in the circus with my bear and my—with the crew.”
    “I don’t want to get married any more than you do, North. But if he thinks we’re going against him, he’ll just dig his heels in further.”
    “But you have to tell him before—”
    “I’ll tell him! Just shut up about it.”
    Ainsel was lingering, picking at the notches in the wood, and North was thinking scathing thoughts about how he was so prettily useless he couldn’t even climb a stile, when she realized that he was waiting for her to go first.
    “Oh,” she said. “Thanks.” She climbed over it as fast as she could. Her jumper hung loose, but she didn’t want Ainsel to look too closely.
    They remained silent as they walked through the farmland. The only sound was the wind in the trees and the tinny jingle of bells from their clothing. Ainsel was ungrateful and dull, but North had known him her whole life; she should try to think of something to say, anything to break the awkward silence, but she couldn’t. Never mind friendship or familiarity. It was too early to think straight.
    At the edge of the trees, they paused. North had never been inside a copse before, and she could guess from the look on Ainsel’s face that he hadn’t either. The woods were old—some of the trees were prehistoric, people said—and they’d all heard stories about the awful things that landlockers did in there. She bent and peered into the copse. The ground was clear, but above that the trees twisted together, interlocking black shapes too