The Painted War (16 page)

Bianca cackled with laughter as she turned the corner and saw the door to di Lombardi's secret workshop in front of her.

‘Yes! I win, I win, I absolutely
crushed
you both,' she said, leaning on the wall and waiting for Catriona and Marco to catch up with her. They were only a few steps behind.

‘I think being related to di Lombardi might be cheating,' Catriona said, narrowing her eyes at Bianca. ‘I think this place just
likes
you better!'

‘Isn't it the first
inside
the workshop who's the winner?' Marco gasped.

The three of them looked at each other, and then fell into a mad scramble of elbows and feet, trying to be the first through the door. Bianca fell through first and Marco landed on top of her.

‘I still win,' she groaned.

Duchess Catriona stepped daintily over both of them, and then collapsed onto a stool with a giggle. ‘I suppose I can live with that,' she said. ‘As long as you don't make a habit of it. And as long as the
filthy traitor
doesn't win,' she added, glaring at Marco.

‘That's a bit strong,' Marco complained. ‘Just because you're jealous. Bianca invited me, you know!'

‘Well, it doesn't make any sense,' Catriona said, throwing her hands in the air. ‘How
can
you be taking your new show to Oscurita first? Your troupe won't even be able to see what they're doing!'

‘Torches,' said Marco simply. ‘Lots and
lots
of torches.'

‘It's going to be
amazing
,' Bianca teased. ‘They're going to do everything twice, and backwards, and on
fire
.'

‘Why, Duchess Bianca, I think the power's gone to your head,' said Catriona.

Bianca laughed. ‘Anyway,' she said. ‘You know how important it is. Art in Oscurita has been suppressed for years and years. I've got to get people interested in music and performance and magic and painting again. What better way than to show them what Master Xavier's Harlequin Troupe can do?'

‘It doesn't seem very fair to me, Bianca,' said Catriona. ‘You've already stolen away the most promising young artist of her generation and shoved a crown on her head. You can't have Marco as well. Marco's mine. So there.'

‘As much as I enjoy listening to you two argue over me,' Marco grinned, ‘it's your day off! Do you really want to waste it bickering  …  or do you want to come and see what I found in the back of the workshop?'

‘Another contraption?' Bianca beamed as he led them towards something about as tall as a horse and twice as wide. It was hidden underneath a white dustsheet. When he was sure they were watching, Marco drew the sheet aside with a flourish.

It was something like a chariot, Bianca thought. The cart section gleamed golden and purple, with a wide bench seat upholstered in comfortable-looking velvet. And at the front, where the horses should have gone, there was a glass orb, a bit like a fishbowl, full of strange pipes and gears and springs and bellows.

‘It powers itself!' Marco grinned. ‘You just get into it and
go!
'

Bianca and Catriona exchanged sceptical looks.

Marco wiggled his eyebrows at them.

‘Do you want to take it for a ride?'

Imogen Rossi grew up in London but her favourite place in the world is Venice during the Carnival. She spent most of her summer holidays in Italy, where she passed the time doodling and writing stories. She loves to paint, though she isn't very good at it, and she sings in a choir. She most enjoys stories involving mystery, magic and time travel. She has a collection of Venetian carnival masks and two cats named Leonardo and Michelangelo (Lenny and Mike for short).

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With special thanks to Rosie Best

First published in Great Britain in 2014 by Hot Key Books

Northburgh House, 10 Northburgh Street, London EC1V 0AT

Copyright © Working Partners Limited 2014

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN: 978-1-4714-0262-3

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