Losing the Plot by Annie Dalton Page A

waited until Nick was explaining Chance’s go-between duties to him, then he strolled over. “Hi Mel. How’s it going?” he said softly.
    Sometimes there’s so much you want to say, it all gets jammed up inside, and absolutely nothing comes out.
    Then I caught sight of those manicured fingers with their glittering rings, and what came out was pure rage.
    “I’m so relieved you didn’t damage your jewellery,” I said icily.
    Brice laughed. His eyes were totally dead, just like I’d remembered. “Admit it, Mel, you’re out of your depth.”
    “So are you going to bash me too?” I said. “Or do you have some quaint PODS code about not hitting girls?”
    “Oh, I’ve got other plans for you, Mel,” he said with a sinister smile. “Long-term plans.” Brice stretched himself out on a wooden settle. “These are great times, aren’t they?” he sighed. “I am totally in my element!”
    Fortunately I didn’t have to lose any brain cells guessing what this element was, because he couldn’t wait to tell me.
    “Chaos!” he explained gleefully. “You really should hang out at court some time, Mel. All those shadowy stone corridors! All those convenient tapestries for traitors to eavesdrop behind! It’s a plotters’ paradise - I love it!”
    I remembered how Lola thought we’d beamed down in the middle of a wedding because everyone was so happy.
    “You just see ugly things,” I said. “You make me sick.”
    “I see what’s real, sweetheart. Oh, did you know Golden Boy over there sold Chance’s soul to pay his debts? Of course, Nick doesn’t know that’s what I’m after.”
    Listening to Brice has this numbing effect on your brain. After a while you want to give up, the way people fall asleep in the snow.
    “You know what’s tragic?” he said. “Chance can’t believe Nick would hurt him. That’s his fatal flaw.” He shook with silent laughter.
    On the other side of the room, Chance and Nick were coming to the end of their talk.
    “Funny,” Brice mused. “Chance would be dead if it wasn’t for you. And by the time this is over, he’ll wish he was.”
    “Why are you doing this?” I said angrily “If he’s such a nobody, why go to all this trouble to destroy him?”
    His eyes glittered. “Sweetheart, you’ll never know!”
    And his mocking laughter followed us out into the night. I knew I should be thankful I was still in one piece. Brice could have finished me, if he’d wanted to. He appeared to be saving that treat for later. As if Chance and I were both such sad little pawns that he could do what he liked with us.
    Eek! I suddenly realised that I hadn’t been listening to Nick and Chance “discussing business”! I’d been too busy listening to that toe rag, Brice. What was going to happen now?
    A fine guardian angel you’re turning out to be, Mel Beeby , I thought glumly.
    I followed Chance down dark smelly side streets, until we reached the river. He must be off on some evil little mission for Nick, I realised with a lurch of my stomach.
    “The palace, Greenwich,” he told a passing ferryman, who took him on board.
    The palace! This was getting fishier by the minute!
    It was pitch black out on the river, except for glints and flashes where the ripples caught the moonlight, and the orangey flicker of the boatman’s torch.
    Sometimes a ferryboat slid past like a ghost. Most carried only one passenger, shadowy shapes in cloaks. I found myself shivering, and wondered if these were the evil conspirators Brice was talking about.
    When we reached the other side, Chance gave the ferryman some coins. “Wait for me, and you’ll have the rest when I return,” he promised.
    As soon as we left the river, he went zooming off into the undergrowth, making his way through the trees until we came out in some kind of park. Finally, we arrived at the rear of a huge building, which I assumed was the royal palace. Like everything else, it was in total darkness.
    Chance tapped softly at a