Walking barefoot over broken glass would have been less painful for Friday than walking into that ballroom. It would have been better, in fact. Because if she had walked barefoot over broken glass, Friday would have cut her feet. And then she would have been allowed to go to hospital in an ambulance. Where she would get foot surgery, which would take hours, and she’d miss the ball entirely. These were Friday’s thoughts as she stood at the top of the staircase, looking down at the ballroom below. But there was no conveniently located broken glass. There was no escaping this nightmare ordeal.

Friday had worried that she’d look like a Barbie doll, but that wasn’t really fair. Barbie wears practical clothes. She wears a lab coat when she’s a doctor. She wears jodhpurs when she’s riding her horse. She wears a space suit when she’s an astronaut. But there was nothing practical or comfortable about the bright red, strapless ballgown Friday was wearing. The underwear alone was more fancy than any item in her own wardrobe.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Melanie as she joined her at the top of the stairs. Ingrid and her father were at the bottom, greeting guests as they arrived.

‘Panicking,’ said Friday.

‘I’ve seen you fight illegal fur traders, chase bird smugglers and confront art thieves without the smallest concern for your personal safety, but this makes you panic?’ said Melanie.

‘Also blood and confined spaces,’ said Friday. ‘They make me panic too.’

Melanie took in the view of the ballroom. ‘Well, no one is bleeding . . . yet. And a ballroom is the opposite of a confined space, so you’ll be fine.’

Friday grabbed Melanie by the forearm and looked into her eyes, ‘Please don’t make me do this.’

Melanie could see that she was genuinely terrified and totally overwhelmed by the situation. ‘I love you, Friday,’ said Melanie. ‘You are my best friend and you have no idea how grateful I am that the biggest genius at Highcrest Academy befriended me.’

‘We were allocated the same dorm room,’ said Friday. ‘It was just random chance. An occurrence based purely on probability.’

Melanie sighed. ‘I’m trying to have a moment here, so let’s set mathematics aside for now. It is because I am such a good friend to you that I am going to make you go down there. You had a very traumatic experience being wrongfully imprisoned for terrorism, and you’re suffering from post traumatic stress syndrome. If you give in to your fear, you will never recover and live life.’

Friday was trying to control her racing heart rate by taking even steady breaths, but it wasn’t working. ‘You can’t make me,’ she whispered.

Melanie leaned in and reassuringly put her hand on Friday’s shoulder, ‘No, but Binky can. Binky?’

Friday had not noticed Binky come up behind her.

‘Hello, Friday,’ said Binky. ‘Mel though you might have a bit of trouble getting down the stairs wearing heels, so she asked me to help you.’

Before Friday had time to work out what he meant, Binky had scooped her up and was carrying her down into the ballroom. She was so shocked she didn’t protest. It was over in three seconds and she was standing on the parquet floor.

Friday looked about, assuming people would be laughing at her, but, amazingly, they weren’t. They were just talking among themselves. It seemed no one had noticed. And if they had, they thought nothing of a soldier in full dress uniform carrying a girl down a staircase.

‘Binky, do I need to be jealous that you are sweeping other girls off their feet?’ asked Ingrid as she walked over to greet them.

‘Oh no,’ said Binky. ‘Not another girl. It’s just Friday.’

Friday could not be insulted. Binky was looking at Ingrid with such lovesick adoration she knew she shouldn’t judge him.

‘Would you like to dance?’ Binky asked Ingrid.

‘Yes please,’ she said, taking his arm. They disappeared into the throng on the dance floor.

‘What do we do now?’ asked Friday.

‘Wait for someone to ask us to dance,’ said Melanie.

Friday had taught herself many things – physics, chemistry, Norwegian, how to pick a tumbler lock – but she had never even thought of teaching herself how to dance. Watching the intricate footwork of the dancers, she guessed it would be a lot harder to pick up than quantum physics – at least for her, anyway.

‘But you hate all forms of physical exertion,’ said Friday.

‘Not dancing,’ said Melanie. ‘I like ballroom dancing. You get to lean on somebody. If I could lean on someone all the time, I probably wouldn’t mind standing as much either.’

Friday glanced about the room, desperately looking for some alternative, when she spotted someone she knew.

‘Is that Dr Finsberg?’ asked Friday.

The scientist in charge of the Seed Vault was standing at the buffet, eating his way through the hors d’oeuvres and ignoring the party.

‘It’s hard to recognise him without his snow jacket,’ said Melanie.

‘I think it is him. His total lack of social skills is consistent with a scientist,’ said Friday, walking over. ‘Dr Finsberg, how are you?’

‘Do I know you?’ asked Dr Finsberg.

‘We met at Binky Pelly’s court martial,’ said Friday.

Dr Finsberg looked her over. ‘Ah, the precocious child lawyer.’

‘That’s me,’ agreed Friday. ‘I didn’t expect to see you at the princess’s twenty-first party.’

Dr Finsberg grunted as he shoved another crab puff in his mouth, ‘They wheel me out at all the formal events. International guests love the Seed Vault.’

‘Finsberg!’ Sir Eirik called out as he strode across the ballroom towards them.

‘Here we go,’ groaned Dr Finsberg. He jammed two more crab puffs in his pocket and put a fake smile on his face. ‘Sir Eirik, delighted to see you.’

‘The minister from Spain will be here momentarily,’ said Sir Eirik. ‘He wants to meet you. Spain is an important agricultural trade party for Norway. We want your best behaviour.’

‘I promise to be civil,’ said Dr Finsberg.

‘No, we want better than that,’ said Sir Eirik. ‘We want graciousness. I’m sure a man of your intellect can look that word up, and aspire to achieve it in the interval before the minister arrives.’

Dr Finsberg smiled an even faker fake smile and said, ‘Fine.’

Sir Eirik pivoted on his perfectly polished shoes and strode away to button-hole another guest. Dr Finsberg headed in the opposite direction, towards the bar, while muttering darkly to himself.

‘Sir Eirik is quite the operator,’ said Friday.

‘When you’re as beloved as Ingrid’s dad,’ said Melanie, ‘you would need to have a tough right-hand man or nothing would get done.’

They glanced across at the king. He was smiling happily as Ingrid introduced him to her stream of guests. He looked very impressive in his black tailcoat, red sash and military medals.

‘What do we do now?’ asked Friday. ‘Can we just stand and eat the crab puffs?’

‘No, we’re guests,’ said Melanie. ‘It’s our social duty to socialise.’

Now Friday groaned.

‘Let’s find someone to dance with,’ said Melanie.

‘Please don’t,’ said Friday. ‘Besides, I’m sure no one will ask us.’

‘Too late,’ said Melanie with a big smile. Friday turned to see two young men in tuxedos approaching. They were handsome and well-groomed. Friday was horrified.

‘Hello,’ said Melanie.

This was too much. Friday hit the awkward-social-situation ejector button. She announced, ‘I need to go to the bathroom!’ Her voice sounded borderline hysterical as she pivoted on the spot and walked as fast as her heels would allow her in the opposite direction.

Friday did not look back. She wove between groups of people, just in case she was being followed – she had to get away. She knew as soon as the song was over, Melanie would come looking for her and perhaps bring Binky as backup. She needed to find somewhere she could breathe. She needed to hide.

Friday spotted the heavy curtains at the end of the room. Perfect. She walked straight up to them and slid in behind, causing barely a ripple in the fabric so no one could tell how she disappeared.

Once behind the curtain, Friday found herself in darkness. The heavy material blocked all the light from the ballroom – the only illumination was from the dim starlight outside. As her eyes adjusted, Friday could make out that the window was actually a window box. It was an alcove, and she had more space than she expected. Friday edged back. She didn’t want to knock the curtains and draw attention to her location. Her calves backed up against something. Friday realised it must be a window seat, so she sat down.

‘Ow!’ said the window seat. She had not sat on a window seat. She was sitting on someone’s lap.

‘Sorry,’ said Friday, getting to her feet.

‘It’s all right,’ said the stranger with a deep voice. ‘There’s plenty of space. I’ll move my legs.’

Friday was hesitant to sit down next to a stranger, especially a stranger she had just sat on.

He pressed a button on his device. The soft glow of an e-reader lit up his face. ‘I just snuck back here to read a book,’ he admitted.

Friday could see now that he was a boy about her own age. He was tall, but a bit gangly. Probably a teenager still. She sat down.

‘What are you reading?’ asked Friday.

‘War and Peace,’ said the boy.

‘You like Tolstoy?’ asked Friday. She had read War and Peace herself, but it had been a bit of a grind. It was hard to keep track of all the multisyllabic Russian names.

‘I’m lying,’ said the boy. ‘Sorry, it’s reflexive. I always say I’m reading War and Peace when people catch me reading my Kindle. I’m actually reading a Jack Reacher novel.’

‘I’ve never read any of those,’ said Friday. ‘But I have no trouble believing they’re more fun than being at a ball.’

‘Girls are supposed to like dressing up and being beautiful,’ said the boy.

‘Why?’ asked Friday. ‘Aren’t we meant to be valued for more than our physical appearance and ability to perform predetermined footwork in time with an auditory stimulus?’

‘Yes, that’s what they tell us,’ said the boy. ‘But reality rarely actually coincides with what we’re told.’

Friday turned and looked out the window, ‘We’re on the ground floor. We could climb out and run away.’

‘The window is locked,’ said the boy. ‘I already tried it.’

‘I can pick a lock,’ said Friday.

She could barely see the boy’s face in the low light, but she could see his eyes sparkle.

Friday pulled two pins out of her hair and set to work, but, suddenly, they were interrupted. The curtains were thrown open and the alcove was flooded with light.

‘Arthur! What are you doing hiding here?’ demanded an older man in a tuxedo with a medal around his neck.

‘Um . . . kissing this girl,’ said Arthur, pointing to Friday.

Friday looked at him like he was crazy. They weren’t even standing close to each other. This was hardly believable. But the older man seemed pleasantly surprised.

‘Oh, that’s all right then,’ he said. ‘But you can’t hide all night. Get out here and dance.’

The man left. Arthur looked dejected. He turned to Friday. ‘Well, we’ve been sprung.’ He offered her his hand. ‘We might as well dance with each other.’

Friday realised he was at least as miserable as she was with this situation. They should stick together. ‘Okay,’ she agreed.

Arthur led her in the direction of the dance floor. They got there just as the song stopped. Arthur was already holding Friday’s hand. He put his other hand on her waist, ready for the next song to begin.

‘Who was that?’ asked Friday.

‘Who was who?’ asked Arthur.

‘The man who just burst in on us like that?’ asked Friday.

‘Oh,’ said Arthur. ‘The Crown Prince of Denmark.’

‘What?!’ exclaimed Friday. The music was starting up. ‘How do you know him?’

‘Oh, just because . . . um . . .’ said Arthur. ‘He’s my father.’

The music hit the beat, and they started moving.

Friday’s mind was boggling. ‘The Crown Prince of Denmark, as in the future king?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ said Arthur.

‘Which means the king is your grandfather,’ said Friday.

‘Yes,’ agreed Arthur.

‘Which makes you a prince too,’ said Friday.

‘Yes, afraid so,’ said Arthur. ‘But you won’t hold it against me, will you? I know a lot of people are republicans these days, or they’ve just been forced to read Hamlet for school, so there’s a lot of negativity associated with the Danish royal family. But I’m just a person. With luck, it’ll be fifty years before it’s my turn to be king. Who knows? There may be a revolution before then and it’ll never come to that.’

Friday was deeply shocked. She realised just how deeply shocked when she noticed that she was dancing and had evidently been dancing for some time now.

‘I can’t dance,’ she said, looking down at her feet.

‘It’s just because you haven’t been thinking about it,’ said Arthur. ‘The waltz is only walking backwards in a tri-rhythmic pattern. It’s easier if you do it without thinking.’

Friday looked into Arthur’s face. She was terrible at gauging when someone was being sarcastic or just joking. He didn’t seem to be. This was when she first noticed that Arthur was quite handsome. They continued the rest of the dance in silence. When the music stopped, they applauded the orchestra.

‘This is the bit where the boy, that’s me,’ said Arthur, ‘is supposed to ask the girl – in this case, you – whether she would care for a refreshment.’

‘Oh,’ said Friday.

‘In which case,’ said Arthur, ‘if you are actually thirsty, you can say, “Yes, thank you, I’d like a glass of lemonade”. But if you want to ditch me because you’re thoroughly sick of my company, then you say, “No, thank you, I must powder my nose”.’

‘But I can’t say that now,’ said Friday ‘Because you’ve deconstructed the social convention, so if I were to do that now, it would be rude.’

‘True, sorry,’ said Arthur. ‘I was just trying to help. These are things we get instructed on at protocol classes. I didn’t want you to be ill-informed.’

‘I am actually thirsty,’ said Friday, remembering that she hadn’t eaten or had anything to drink for several hours. ‘And hungry too.’

‘They’ll only have finger food,’ said Arthur. ‘Not filling at all. At things like this you’re much better off sneaking in a protein bar or a muesli bar, something that can be easily eaten behind a curtain.’

Friday liked the sound of this.

‘I actually have two protein bars in my pocket,’ confessed Arthur. ‘You can have one if you like.’

‘You are a very strange boy,’ said Friday.

‘I know,’ said Arthur. ‘I try to hide it, but everyone sees right through me.’

They stood, eating their protein bars and watching the dancing. Friday realised she was actually enjoying the ball. Her eyes swept the room, taking in the sea of dancers and people standing around chatting in groups. It wasn’t as awful as she had imagined. People were still arriving at the top of the stairs. Friday supposed it was fashionable to be late.

That was when Friday saw something that made her heart stop. It didn’t literally stop, because that’s not the way heart rhythms work, but it felt like it stopped or accelerated. Something. Definitely some sort of cardiac event. Because there was Ian, wearing a tuxedo and looking even more stunningly handsome than she had ever seen him.

Friday was excited for about three nano-seconds. That was how long it took her brain to register that Ian had a girl’s arm looped over his elbow. Then she felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her head, ripped out her heart and stomped on it. The girl was gorgeous. She was as tall as Ian, so very tall for a girl. She had long dark hair and dark olive skin, and she was wearing an eye-catching canary-yellow party dress. Hi-viz workwear was more subtle than this garment. And yet, on her, it wasn’t garish – it was spectacular.

Friday must have made some sort of involuntary whimpering noise, because Arthur looked concerned. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

‘No,’ breathed Friday, her voice barely making sound. She was watching as Ian leaned in towards his date to say something. The beautiful girl laughed. Ian turned away, still smiling at his own joke, and that’s when he noticed Friday. The smile fell from his face. He turned back to the stunning girl and evidently excused himself, because he let go of her arm and started making his way across the room towards Friday.

‘I’ve got to go!’ said Friday.

‘You can’t abandon me now!’ said Arthur. ‘Dad will hit the roof if I hide behind the curtain again.’

Friday handed her half-eaten protein bar to Arthur. ‘I can’t be here.’ She glanced about, looking for an escape route. There were double doors to the kitchen behind them. Friday took a step towards them, but the doors burst open as four waiters wheeled in a huge trolley full of Norwegian waffles covered in jam, cream and brown cheese. There was no escape that way. When Friday turned around it was too late. Like a panther seeking out its prey, Ian had cornered her.

‘Friday,’ said Ian.

‘Hello,’ said Friday. There was an awkward pause. ‘Have you met the Prince of Denmark?’

‘No,’ said Ian. He now noticed the gangly youth holding two half-eaten protein bars.

‘This is Arthur,’ said Friday. ‘He’s only one of them, though. Princes, that is. There’s his father too. And . . .’ she addressed Arthur, ‘do you have any brothers?’

‘Yes, I have a brother,’ said Arthur. ‘And two uncles, so there are five of us.’

Ian looked at Arthur, then decided to ignore him. ‘Friday, I want to talk to you,’ he said.

‘Really? Will it be a nice conversation?’ asked Friday.

‘Come on,’ said Ian, taking her hand. ‘Let’s duck behind the curtains.’

‘No, I’m not doing that,’ said Friday. ‘You’re here with another girl.’

‘Yes, that’s why we need to go behind the curtains,’ said Ian. ‘Her father is a cabinet minister in Spain. It will create an international incident if she sees me kissing you.’

‘Hey,’ said Arthur. ‘I’m the Prince of Denmark. It’ll create an international incident if I see you kissing the girl I was just dancing with.’

‘Hence the need for the curtains,’ said Ian.

‘What if I don’t want to kiss you?’ said Friday.

‘You don’t?’ asked Ian.

Friday considered this for a moment, then gave in. ‘Of course I do,’ she confessed. ‘But I’m not going to when you’re here with another girl. That would just be rude.’

‘But it’s a cover,’ said Ian. ‘I’m working on an investigation.’

‘Really? You used that excuse in Florence,’ said Friday.

‘It was true that time too!’ said Ian.

‘Well, it’s no excuse for being rude,’ said Friday.

‘I’d forgotten just how annoying you could be,’ said Ian.

Friday noticed Ian glance at her mouth. ‘Are you thinking about kissing me now?’

‘I don’t want to, but you look very pretty in that dress!’ snapped Ian.

‘This conversation is making me uncomfortable,’ said Arthur.

Just then, the music stopped. Ingrid left the dance floor and hurried over. ‘Ian, what are you doing here?!’ she asked. ‘You didn’t RSVP to your invitation.’

‘You sent him another invitation?’ asked Friday. ‘You didn’t tell me!’

‘You were panicking enough already,’ explained Ingrid.

‘It was a last-minute decision,’ said Ian. ‘I’m escorting Cassandra Mendoza. I’m here as her plus-one.’

‘Oh,’ said Ingrid. She looked over her shoulder at Cassandra, who was flirting with Sir Eirik while Dr Finsberg stood by, looking grumpy.

‘Gross,’ said Friday. ‘Why is she flirting with someone so old?’

‘She’s a socialite,’ said Ian. ‘That’s what they do. They flirt. It’s what makes the world of European diplomacy go round. That and enormous bribes.’

‘I’m sorry, Friday,’ said Ingrid. ‘I should never have invited someone so beautiful, but Sir Eirik insisted.’

‘It makes sense. Her father is the minister for agriculture from Spain,’ said Ian. ‘He’s here for a series of discussions with Scandinavian leaders on genetically modified, drought-tolerant wheat. It’s all about trade deals.’

Binky joined them, carrying a bowl of dessert.

‘Ingrid,’ said Binky, ‘I got your favourite. Waffles and brown cheese.’

‘Oh, Binky,’ said Ingrid, taking the bowl. ‘You are so good to me.’

Binky smiled proudly. ‘I brought you a spoon too,’ he added.

‘Oh no, I must eat it the traditional Norwegian way,’ said Ingrid. ‘With my hands.’ She picked up the waffle and took a big bite.

Binky had started to sink down on one knee. When he looked up and realised what Ingrid was doing, he was horrified. ‘Wait, don’t . . .!’ cried Binky.

Ingrid tried to swallow, but couldn’t. She was turning red in the face and making weird, muted guttural noises.

‘She’s choking!’ said Friday.

It was as if Ingrid was trying to cough, but she couldn’t.

‘Oh no!’ said Binky. ‘What do I do?’

The music hadn’t started for the next song. All conversation in the ballroom fell silent as everyone turned to see what the commotion was about.

‘Gravity!’ said Friday. ‘Get her upside down. It will fall out.’

Binky might not be a great thinker, but he was a man of action. He grabbed hold of Ingrid and spun her upside down. Her dress tipped up, so everyone in the room got a glimpse of her underwear.

‘Ingrid!’ cried the king from the far side of the ballroom.

Then, with a total lack of elegance or gentility, Binky gave her a good, hard shake. Ingrid choked out a big cough and waffle, jam, cream and brown cheese spattered out on the floor. Finally, Ingrid was able to gasp for breath. Binky turned her right way up and Ingrid collapsed against him.

‘You saved me,’ she whispered hoarsely.

Binky knelt so that Ingrid could sit while still holding on to him.

‘Oh, Ingrid,’ said Binky. ‘That was terrifying. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

Friday noticed Binky reach down and pick something small out of the waffle residue on the floor, then put it in his pocket. She suspected that Ingrid had just been choking on her own engagement ring.

Ingrid’s father rushed over. ‘My darling, are you all right?’ asked the king, grabbing hold of Ingrid’s hands.

‘What did you do, din store tull?’ demanded Sir Eirik. He had followed the king over.

‘Well . . . er . . .’ began Binky.

‘Binky saved my life,’ said Ingrid.

She looked up into Binky’s eyes with pure love.

‘Oh, Ingrid,’ said Binky. He wanted to say so much more. Perhaps a confession of what had really happened, but he had never been good with words.

‘Thank you, thank you,’ said the king, grasping Binky by the hand. There were tears in the older man’s eyes. ‘I know I have undervalued you. It was wrong of me. Selfish.’ He turned back to Ingrid. ‘But no one could ever be good enough for my little girl.’

‘Oh yes, I quite agree,’ said Binky. ‘I don’t think I’m good enough either.’

But the king was not really listening. ‘Although, she is no longer little. She is a woman, who I am so proud of. If she loves you, I love you.’

The king wrapped Binky in a big hug.

‘Oh, okay,’ said Binky, patting the king on the back soothingly as he returned the hug. ‘I love you too, sir.’

The rest of the party was much less dramatic. It soon degenerated into formal toasts and speeches, which Friday much preferred to dancing. The speeches were painfully boring, but it was a type of pain she could much more easily endure. The highlight of the evening was when the king presented Ingrid with her birthday present – an eighty-five-inch widescreen TV. Apparently, Sir Eirik was supposed to arrange the purchase of a painting by Norwegian artist Sol Kjøk, but the seller was arrested for money laundering, so that gift had fallen through. And the TV was the only thing he could get at short notice that fit the same space on the wall.

‘So, that’s why he was being so shady, scurrying about and measuring things!’ said Binky.

‘He was looking for ways to get rid of you too,’ said Melanie.

‘But that’s fair enough,’ said Binky. ‘He was only doing his job.’

When it was all over, and Friday, Melanie and Ingrid finally went back to the apartment to sleep, Ingrid couldn’t keep the smile off her face, she was so happy. Friday wasn’t sure whether this was because of, or in spite of, her near-death experience.

‘What a night!’ exclaimed Ingrid. ‘My father finally appreciates Binky.’

‘Yes,’ said Friday, not revealing that Binky had most likely caused the choking incident in the first place.

‘And I have arranged for us all to go and see where Binky works at Svalbard,’ said Ingrid.

‘We’re going to get to visit the Seed Vault?’ asked Friday. Her inner nerd couldn’t help but be excited. She had planned to travel to Bilbao the following day, but another twenty-four hours couldn’t hurt. Uncle Bernie would understand. Actually, he probably wouldn’t understand, but he would be understanding. Uncle Bernie always was.

‘Yes,’ said Ingrid. ‘It is one of my diplomatic duties. I’m to accompany Minister Mendoza on his tour. Since his daughter is with him, I thought it would be nice for her if I was to bring some people her own age.’

‘It would stop Ian getting ideas too,’ said Melanie.

‘I did foresee that benefit,’ admitted Ingrid. She turned to Friday, ‘I feel bad that coming to Norway to help Binky has caused a rift between you and Ian.’

‘Don’t,’ said Friday. ‘We fight all the time.’

‘You don’t really fight. Not much,’ said Melanie. ‘There’s just a lot of glowering and brooding.’

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

‘Who could that be at this hour?’ asked Ingrid.

A footman was standing outside, holding a silver tray with a mobile phone in the middle. ‘A phone call for Ms Barnes, ma’am,’ he said.

‘Thank you, Reidar,’ said Ingrid, taking the phone. She handed it to Friday.

‘Hello?’ said Friday.

‘Friday, it’s me, Bernie,’ said Uncle Bernie.

‘Thank you for identifying yourself,’ said Friday. ‘You see, it makes things so much easier.’

‘I’m flying to Oslo,’ said Bernie.

‘Why?’ asked Friday.

‘I want to interview your old lady,’ said Bernie.

‘I don’t have an old lady,’ said Friday.

‘The one from the Munch, that you sent me a text about,’ said Bernie. ‘Agent Olsen sent me the file and the transcript of her interview. Something is going on.’

‘Okay,’ said Friday. ‘When will you get here?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Bernie. ‘I’m on my way to the airport now. I’ve got something else I need to talk to you about too.’

‘What?’ asked Friday.

‘We shouldn’t discuss it on the phone,’ said Bernie. ‘Just promise me you’ll be careful.’

‘I always am,’ said Friday.

‘The fact that you think that is true is unnerving,’ said Bernie. ‘Don’t do anything silly till I get there.’

‘I’ll try,’ said Friday.