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Antonia sniffed. "The politics are important." "Sure." Zac shrugged. "And you're not?" Holly H. came back with plates and lifted the lid off the pastry box. A flotilla of slightly squished swan-shaped profitteroles nested inside. "Think about it," Holly H. advised. "The fact that you legged it the night before the wedding indicates further negotiations might be in order." Antonia rested her chin on the edge of the cushion. "I needed some space to be me." "Well, I've got to say I like this you more than the public persona." Holly H. deposited a swan on her plate, drowned it in sauce, and licked her fingers. "Comfy clothes, no bra, you're pretty good at darts, and you were sneaky enough to avoid all of Devon's guards and traps. He's not happy about that, by the way." "I'll apologise." "Don't," Zac said. "If you got out, Security needed shaking up." 'True," Holly H agreed. "So, is this a last minute panic or a culmination of doubts?" Antonia picked at the cushion fringe. "I was in on the planning and negotiations, made sure all the political ramifications were covered, completely cool about the whole thing until this evening. Then it was like the hypnotist snapped his fingers and I was back in my skin and I'm getting married tomorrow." She hurled the cushion across the room. "Arrgh! Hello, I don't even know if the guy I'm marrying snores, or likes to walk in the rain or knows all the words of Stairway To Heaven. Sure, our public personas are compatible but . . . ." "Never left alone long enough to find out if there's any more?" Zac surmised. "Hmmmm." Holly H scowled at the ceiling. Antonia tunneled her fingers though her honey-brown hair. "Why am I telling you this anyway?" "Because we fix things," Zac stated calmly. He poured sauce over a swan, caught the look on Antonia's face and added another dollop. He handed her the plate. "Dig in. The chocolate will make you feel better, then it will make you feel so ill you'll forget all your troubles, and then there's the possibility that if you eat all these, you won't be able to fit into that gown tomorrow." "I hope that's not your solution." Antonia jabbed her fork into the swan. "Like yours was better?" *12:40 AM "Is that a pose of brooding or impending suicide?" Holly H asked. She studied the groom where he leaned against the window frame staring into the night, a paper plane in his hand. "Definitely a thinking stance. I might even suggest pondering," Zac replied easily. The paper plane scythed into the night. Michael Renwood turned slowly. In another ten years when he'd grow into his prominent bone structure, Michael was going to be impressive. Not that he wasn't already, with those lushly-lashed caramel eyes and a graceful way of moving. He was in his mid-twenties now, which made him the twins' senior by two years. Chronologically, anyway. He gulped a little at the sight of Holly H in her ruby red dress but recovered nicely. "And you are?" Zac pulled the suite door shut and sauntered into the room, casually examining the space, assessing the exits, and raising the lid of the silver dome on the cart to reveal an untouched meal. "I told you we needed to work on our advertising, Hol." Zac snitched a strawberry from the dessert platter. "We're Rogue Mapping." "Cartographers?" "Sometimes," Holly H said, lining up the empty bottles on the low table and clicking her tongue disapprovingly. "Sometimes we're simply cart-off-with-ers." Zac seized the dish of strawberries and wandered over to the windows, leaving a trail of green leaves behind him. "I hope your liver was in good shape, because after this it certainly isn't going to be happy," Holly H said. "What were you thinking, combining good whiskey with bad red wine and following it down with shots of overpriced vodka?" "Excuse me." Michael held up one hand. "Did I miss the bit where you mentioned why you're here?" "Oh, that." Holly H ambled over, putting a little swing into her step. "We're here to offer our felicitations, congratulations, best wishes etcetera etcetera." "So nice of you to drop by." "Isn't it?" Zac said. "I like that rug." Holly H looked down at the rug at her feet. The hand poised on her hip drummed out a rhythm. "Looks more like a carpet to me." "Wonder if it's a magic carpet?" Zac deposited the empty strawberry dish on a nearby table and slung his arm across Michael's shoulder. "Any place it goes is right. Goes far, flies near, to the stars away from here." His hand found a sensitive place on the groom's neck and pressed. Holly H flashed a lupine grin as Michael sank to the carpet. "Do I really have to finish the song?" Zac whined. Holly H shook her head no, then polished the toe of her boot on the lumpy rolled up rug. "No point. He's snug as a bug." *5:30 AM Holly H did the honours. One hand beat gently on the black lacquer door above the bakery. Loud enough to command attention from within yet inaudible to those rolling out bread dough and sweet buns below. That was the plan, anyway. "Antonia? Want us to unlock the door?" Zac headed off Holly H's impatience before it reached the boil over stage. Zac's eyebrows snapped together and Holly H froze. Was that a muffled giggle? "Antonia," Holly H rapped out. "I'm counting to five, then I'm turning the key," Zac warned. "One." There was that giggle again, muted as though by a hand over the mouth. "Two. Three." "Stop," Antonia said. "answer the question. Do you want the door unlocked?"
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