The grand palace’s ballroom was vast, with marble floors and chandelier-covered ceilings as far as the eye could see. It teemed with guests dressed in finery and ornate masks, all boasting about how rich and shiny-haired they were. At the far end of the ballroom stood the King of Italy, dressed in a gold tuxedo and an elaborate crown, which doubled his height. The king regaled his guests with tales of his eminence and sipped pink champagne through a solid gold straw. Standing in the doorway at the other end of the ballroom, Amber adjusted the black mask that covered her eyes.
“So, what’s the plan?” she whispered.
“The plan is to stick to the plan,” said M11’s voice in Amber’s earpiece. “Danger Monkey is covering the building from the outside. You two split up and look for the McGuffin. And for goodness’ sake, remember you’re spies – you don’t have to blow everything up. Try to keep a low profile.”
Amber looked up at her dad. He was wearing a long black dress squeezed over his huge, scaly frame, a blonde wig on his head, long white gloves and high-heeled shoes over his great clawed feet. He took a glossy red lipstick out of his handbag and painted it round his mouth.
“Low profile,” repeated Amber. “Right.”
“Let’s save the day, shall we?” said Spynosaur, raising a feathered mask to his face.
“Bet I can find the McGuffin before you!” declared Amber. She hurried inside and up a grand sweeping stairwell, keen to get a bird’s-eye view of the ballroom.
“That’s my girl,” said Spynosaur proudly. Then he straightened his wig and slipped into the crowd of masked revellers, his long dress and even longer tail swishing behind him.
“I spy with my little eye…” he said. “Something beginning with—”
“You!”
“No, not U…” muttered Spynosaur, spinning round.
The crowds duly parted as the portly shape of the King of Italy waddled towards him. He halted in Spynosaur’s shadow and peered up at him, his eyes wide.
“It cannot be… You’re … you’re…” he uttered. “You’re the most enchanting creature I have ever seen, Madame!”
“I am?” Spynosaur replied, pressing the mask to his face. In a high-pitched voice he replied, “Uh, I mean, most kind, Your Majesty.”
“I don’t believe we have been introduced,” the king continued, holding out his hand. “I am the King of Italy. And you are…?”
“Yes, I am,” Spynosaur replied coyly, holding out a huge gloved hand.
The king kissed it excitedly. “Such a beguiling enchantress!” he said. Then he grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and drank it in one gulp. “May I have this dance?” he asked.
“Dance?” Spynosaur replied, fanning himself with his mask. “Oh, I’m afraid I don’t—”
“Then I shall teach you, Madame!” interrupted the king. “I shall teach you!”
Amber had barely reached the top of the stairs before she glanced down and saw her father being spun around the dance floor by an old man with a golden crown.
“Oh, no. Da-ad…!” she groaned.
“What he’s done this time?” said M11 through the earpiece. “Blast it all to smithereens, he can’t have blown up the palace already…”
“Worse – he’s dancing,” Amber sighed. “Dads should never, ever— Huh?”
Amber glanced up to the top of the stairs. A tall, slender woman in a black robe and pointy hat swept across her path and down the corridor.
“I spy with my little eye…” she said suspiciously. She looked back to see her dad busily doing pirouettes with the King of Italy. Then she took a deep breath and raced after the woman.