Excerpt from The Gracekeepers by Kirsty Logan, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

As Avalon swallowed, she smiled. With a flick of her little silver knife, she tossed the last quarter of the apple under the curtain, where it disappeared in the dust and shadow. North bit down a mewl of dismay. As if sensing her mood, North's bear began growling, low and thick.

Avalon narrowed her eyes at the bear as if he had offended her, but North could see that his growls made her nervous. She wanted to command her bear, to anger him, to prod him into swiping his half-moon claws through the air in front of Avalon's smug face. Perhaps the threat of the bear was enough for a moment's peace. Instead North swooped her hand down her bear's neck, soothing his growl to silence.

From the stage, the ringmaster was announcing the climax of the maypole, more sensual and dramatic than anything you have ever seen, and without a backward glance Avalon stalked away, tucking her silver knife back into her dress pocket, but wait, do not leave your seats, for our seductive performers will enter your ranks, and left North still gaping at the shadow that hid the tiny, perfect quarter of apple, an item she had not tasted or even seen for months, for now you can buy your own ribbon and learn the mystic art of maypole to the delight of your lover.

She was still motionless, the bear's fur growing hot under her hand, when the maypole dancers paraded offstage. The Excalibur's crew numbered thirteen, including North, and their faces were more familiar to her than her own. Even in the gloom she recognized the angular jaws of Melia and Whitby, the acrobats, though bandaged in their ribbons it was tricky to tell which was which. Sometimes they said they were siblings, sometimes a long-married couple. North didn't know the truth about their lives before they bought their way on to the Excalibur?: of all the tales they'd told, one must be true, but it was impossible to pick it out of the made-up ones. The acrobats both had monkey-small feet and hips, with shoulders as big as a bull's: perfect for rolling up ropes and swinging out over the heads of the crowd. Their ribbons covered the shining remnants of old injuries criss-crossing their limbs. All the circus crew bore their scars, but the acrobats' were enough to make even North flinch. Whichever circus they'd been in before, it couldn't have had safety nets either.

Melia and Whitby sniffed the air, dragging their faces into sneers in imitation of Avalon, then pressed North into the embrace of the curtain so the other performers could file past. They huddled together, placing their wide hands on the bear's back as if to bring him into the conversation. The curtains and overhead of the big top were made of the schooner's four sails, and the fabric felt rough with saltwater.

"I hear," stage-whispered one acrobat, "that Avalon, our beloved ringmaster's wife, has had quite enough of circus life. She wishes to abandon us all to the jaws of the sea."

"But how could she ever tire of us, pray tell?" said the other in mock shock.

"It's sad news indeed, sweet sister," said Whitby. "Avalon scorns the sea and wishes only for land. A house, a garden, a piece of ground that doesn't move."

"Just think on it! All that gold, taken straight from our ringmaster's pockets and funneled into a teensy piece of land, without any of it touching our dinner table. For shame, my darling husband."

North hunched her shoulders, sure that if she looked up she'd see the ringmaster's reddened, glittered cheeks looming toward her. The stage make-up irritated his skin so he plastered on more to cover it, which irritated it more until it cracked and bled. North had seen the pinkish gleam of the bowl after Red Gold had washed; his veins must hold as much glitter as blood.

"Land? How very dull, brother! What a yawnful sort of life!"

"So true--the exact same sky and the exact same ground, every single day! You'd barely be able to breathe for all the yawning!"

Reprinted from The Gracekeepers Copyright © 2015 by Kirsty Logan. To be published by Crown, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, on May 19, 2015.