Ian and Paul led me out of the school, each of my arms looped through theirs. Several people watched and whispered as we passed by, but I was grinning to broadly to care.

Let them look.

When they led me to the gate of the campus, I searched for a car, but there was nothing there save for a black carriage drawn by two pure white horses. Something was different about them though. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Just different.

“Do you see it?” Ian whispered, dipping his head down to mine. He pointed at the horses, and now as if they knew we were talking about them their coats sparkled like diamonds. They shook their heads, and I swore something protruded from their heads.

“No,” I gasped, taking a step toward the horses. Or should I say unicorns? “They’re not real.” I gaped and turned back to the grinning brothers. “Tell me I’m hallucinating.”

“If you are then we are,” Paul chuckled and then glad bowed to the carriage door that opened on its own. “After you.”

Still in awe of the beautiful creatures pulling the carriage, I took the hand Ian offered me and stepped up into the carriage. I sat down on the plush red seat, my fingers sinking into the cushion. Little balls of light hovered along the top of the carriage, filling it with a soft glow. The girl inside of me sighed amorously.

Ian and Paul climbed in after me. There wasn’t enough room for them both to sit by me, but they seemed to have planned it beforehand. Ian sat next to me while Paul sat across from us.

It was when the carriage began to move that I realized there was no driver.

My hand shot out to the sides, one on the carriage wall and the other landing on Ian's lap. “Who’s driving this thing?”

Ian grasped my hand in his, and Paul chuckled as he said, “The unicorns, of course.”

My heart racing in my chest, I forced myself to relax. If they weren't worried, I shouldn’t be.

“How do they know where to go?”

“We told them.” Ian played with my fingers, stroking the tips of his along my palm, making a shiver run through me. 

My lips ticked up at his answer. “And they just know?”

“Why is it so hard for you to believe?” Paul asked, crossing one leg over the other as he leaned back against the seat. “You easily accepted you were a witch and everything else, but the fact that a unicorn knows directions astounds you?”

“Give her a break, Paul.” Ian brushed his hand across my cheek, giving his brother a warning look. “She can't help that her wildest little girl dream has come true.”

I stuck my tongue out at Ian, shoving him playfully. “I did not dream about unicorns.”

“Oh?”

“I dreamed of my own personal boy band.”

Ian and Paul stared at me for a moment before bursting into fits of laughter.

“What? It's not that funny,” I grumped, crossing my arms over my chest. “All the other girls were doing it.”

“But I bet none of them grew up to be dating enough guys to form their own boy band.” Paul bumped my foot with his, grinning from ear to ear.

I beamed and opened my mouth to ask a question.

Ian pointed at me with a lazy hand. “No.”

I scoffed. “What? You didn’t know what I was going to ask.”

Shaking his head as the carriage came to a stop, Ian's eyes twinkled. “Yes, I do, and let me tell you now, neither of us has any musical talent. So, get any daydreams of us bringing your little girl dream to life out of that pretty head of yours.”

I huffed and pretended to be offended. “I'd never do that.”

“Sure,” Ian drawled, moving to the carriage door that had just opened. He reached a hand toward me, leading me out of the carriage and onto a rose-colored carpet.

I stared up at the building, more like a palace really with its three stories and tall towers. Gorgeous bushes with roses of every color lined the white walls and long vines decorated stain glass windows. Soft music filled the air and the faint scent of baked bread wafted by.

“We're eating here?” I gaped at the castle before us. “I thought we were going to a restaurant?”

Paul stepped out of the carriage, offering his arm to me. “We are. We figured you'd probably had your fill of human restaurants. It's time to show you what our world has to offer.”

Slipping my arm into Paul and Ian's, I asked, “What's it called?”

“The Palace,” Paul said matter-of-factly.

I held back a laugh. “Of course, it is.”

As we approached the double doors, they opened on their own, allowing the sounds of the restaurant inside to fill my ears. A maître ‘d waited behind a wooden stand much like a human restaurant except the mustache on his face kept changing its length at will. First, it was long like a wizened old wizard, then short and thin curling up at the sides. When he saw us approach, his mustache stopped on thin and flat against his lip.

“Mr. Broomstein,” he nodded to each of the brothers. “We have been expecting you. Come this way.” He gestured a white-gloved hand toward an archway leading into the dining area.

Dining area was an understatement. Ballroom was more like it, with a ceiling so high you’d need a fire truck ladder to clean the chandelier. Tables laid spread out through the room with a long stage like area filling one side and stretching into the middle of the room. Many of the tables were already filled, and the moment I walked in with the brothers, all eyes turned to us.

The maître ‘d paid no attention to me or questioned why I was with both brothers. He was probably paid to keep the secrets of the wealthy because this was definitely a rich person place. I bet they didn’t even have prices on their menus. Suddenly my nerves were going through the roof.

“Relax,” Ian murmured into my ear, caressing the top of my hand.

Paul ducked his head as well. “Don't worry, this is all for you. We want you to enjoy yourself.”

Nodding dumbly, I allowed them to lead me to a table right at the end of the stage. My chair pulled out for me on its own, but Ian and Paul waited for me to sit before they sat down as well. I jostled when the chair pushed me up to the table, a menu popping into my hands out of nowhere.

Well, that was one way to do it.

When the maître ‘d left, a buxom redhead approached the table. She eyed the guys like they were something that was offered on the menu and hardly noticed me at all. “Hello, how are we doing this evening, gentlemen?” Her eyes slid over to me and she added as an afterthought, “Ma'am?”

Oh no, she didn't.

I know I didn’t look anywhere old enough to be called ma'am. The guys didn't even look up from their menus, completely oblivious to her drooling and veiled insult.

Having just about enough of her crap, I leaned toward Paul who sat on my right as I trailed my fingers up his arm. He turned his head toward me, and I brushed my lips against his before really capturing his lips with mine. I made sure to give him a really good, toe-curling, just short of marking him like an animal kiss, before releasing him. Clearing my throat, I dabbed at the corners of my lips.

“Hey now!” Ian wrapped his hands around my arm and pulled me toward him. “I’m feeling left out.”

Batting my eyes, a coy grin curling up my lips, I cooed, “We can’t have that, now can we?”

The way Ian took my mouth couldn’t be called anything less than possessive. His fingers curled into my hair and angled my head to the side so that his tongue could ravage my mouth. When he finally released me, I was hungry and not for anything on the menu.

Ian shifted so that he was back in his own seat, picking up his menu like nothing happened. I lifted my own menu, glancing at it then up at the waitress. “I think we’re gonna need a minute.”

The waitress stared at me half like she wanted to pull my hair out and half like she wanted to be me. Shifting in place, she cleared her throat and dipped her head. “Certainly.”

When the waitress left, Ian rolled her head toward me. “Do you feel better now?”

My face heated, and I ducked my head. “Yes.”

“Well, we sure put on quite a show,” Paul drawled, his eyes scanning the tables around us. “I’m not sure the performers tonight will be able to beat us for the Witch’s Weekly headline.”

I twisted in my seat to see the couples who had come for a quiet romantic Valentine’s dinner had started to take pictures and text rapidly on their phones. Yeah, we had put on a show alright. A front-page runner.

The waitress came back after a few minutes to take our orders, but this time she was all business. Short and to the point, she was borderline rude before she marched away haughtily.

“So, what’s this show you were talking about?” I asked just as the lights began to dim.

Ian took my hand with a grin. “Just watch. You haven’t seen real magic until you’ve come to The Palace.”

A spotlight shone in the middle of the stage where a small man stood in a suit. A piano began to play as the man began to speak. His voice projected throughout the room though he had no microphone that I could see. “Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for choosing to spend your Valentine’s Day at The Palace. We have a lovely performance for you tonight. Just for our lovers.”

Paul took my other hand at the man’s words, each of the brothers watching my face as I watched the stage. What was going to happen that they were so excited for me to see? I shifted in my seat and waited with growing excitement.

“Please, sit back and relax. While The Palace and its dining room presents ...” the brothers and the rest of the dining room sans me laughed, “... your dinner.”

As a cheerful song began to play, several other people came out onto the stage with the announcer. They began to dance around the stage, dressed in chef’s hats and carrying trays full of food. As they sashayed and paraded around, singing their song, I began to get a bit bored. This was what they were all so hyped up about?

All of a sudden, the dishes on the table joined in the fun, causing me to jump in my seat, my hand going to my chest. The dishes, even the salt and pepper shakers, spun around and did a sassy jig. I leaned in toward the ketchup bottle and poked at it. The bottle jumped back like I’d hurt it, and I swore that if it had hands, it’d have hit me. It sure looked like it wanted to tell me where to stick it.

“Chill out, it’s just a spell,” Paul assured me, and I settled back in my seat for the rest of the show. The performance just kept surprising me. Champagne bottles popped their corks, spewing forth their bubbly insides in large arches over our heads. I flinched but realized none of it was going to fall on us.

When the music ended, our food appeared just like magic. Sometimes it’s good to be a witch.