You'd think because this was a fairy tale world, magic would be so common it would literally grow on trees, or you could pick up a bushel from the crooked-nosed crone at the weekend farmers' market. But as it turns out, this wasn't the case. Very few possessed enough magic to levitate even a feather.

Which is why there was only one person who could help Ashley with her disappearing prince problem—her fairy godmother. Ashley jangled the magical silver summoning bell on the bedside table and said: "ring Maxine, please." The bell had been enchanted eons ago by a traveling magician, to be heard only by the person the ringer wanted to summon. A few moments later came the tinny knock of Maxine's wand rapping on the door.

"Come in," Princess Ashley said, arranging the snowy skirts of her nightdress on the velvet fainting couch.

Her fairy godmother, in a flannel nightgown with matching cap, a magazine tucked under her arm, stepped inside using her wand as a cane. Her braid skimmed the floor as she struggled to drop into a curtsy. "Give me a moment," the old woman said. Her legs trembled, and her knees popped as she stood.

Ashley shook her golden head. "Maxine, must we go through this every time?"

"You're a princess now. I must curtsy, or you might send me to the dungeon or part my head from my neck."

"What say you if I part your head from your neck for continuing this nonsense?"

"I say my knees would thank you more than my neck," Maxine said.

"Good. No more groveling and your majestying. I'll have the royal ax sharpened in case you don't comply."

"Better than beheading by blunt ax," Maxine rasped, then had a coughing fit. Ashley patted her gently on the back. The curtseying really had to stop.

"Come, sit." Ashley yielded her spot on the fainting couch and poured Maxine a jewel-encrusted chalice of contraband whiskey from the jug she kept in the bedside cabinet. Ashley found whiskey to be a helpful, yet temporary (and often headache-inducing) antidote to the long nights spent alone with the aforementioned evil wallpaper.

Maxine settled onto the couch with a series of bone creaks and pops. Ashley offered her the whiskey. "Thank you, my child." Before taking the chalice, Maxine removed the magazine from under her arm and set it on the coffee table. "Your lady's maid asked that I give you this. I believe it's the new issue of Princess Monthly with your interview."

Ashley groaned. "I do hope I didn't say anything stupid." She glanced down at the glossy cover depicting a princess with sheets of glossy black hair beside a dashing prince. Arms wrapped around one another on a royal bed, they wore nothing but crowns and smiles. Seeing this couple so happy and in love, was a dagger of envy piercing her heart. "Ugh!" She hurled the magazine onto the bed.

"No reason to be that upset. I'm sure you didn't say anything embarrassing," Maxine said, totally missing the real reason for Ashley's grief. "Don't worry. Have you read any of the interviews in past issues? The princess from the kingdom of Atlantis listed the ten most beguiling uses for a fork, and the princess from Xanthe spent the whole time discussing hair care."

It was sweet that Maxine was trying to cheer her up. "Well, I'm sure she has lovely hair," Ashley said, diplomatically, wondering about the 10 uses of a fork. She could only think of 8.

Maxine chugged the contents of her chalice and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her nightgown. "Ahhhh, just what the apothecary ordered."

Time to be honest with Maxine about why she summoned her at this late hour. "Max, I'm really sorry to bother you, but I'm hoping you can help me with something. It's important, or I promise I wouldn't ask."

"If there's anything I know about you, it's that you don't often ask for help. Shoot. And speaking of shots ..." Maxine handed the chalice back to Ashley, who promptly filled it.

"It's about the prince."

Maxine frowned. "What about him?"

"He's never here. And when he is, he's huddled in the tower with that creepy royal magician, The Magnificent Marveloni. Who calls himself 'Magnificent'? It's pretentious. Plus, his last name sounds like bologna, which is an unhealthy lunchmeat containing nitrates. In the three months since we married, Charming has only spent 4 days, 2 hours, and 37 minutes in the kingdom."

Maxine broke into a wry smile. "But who's counting?"

"I am," Ashley insisted. "Oh, that was a joke."

The fairy godmother pursed her lips. "You're losing your sense of humor. This is more serious then I thought. Look, maybe use this time to get to know yourself better. Figure out who exactly Princess Ashley is. Find yourself. Now that you aren't sweeping hearths and mucking pigsties, you have the great fortune of having 'me time.'"

"But I don't want 'me time.' I want 'prince time.'"

"I've lived a dragon's age, my dear. And if I can tell you anything of importance, it's this: the key to a joyful life is being happy in your own skin. It's the place you spend the most time, after all. Unless you're a poltergeist or a shapeshifter."

"If I were a shapeshifter, I wouldn't have this problem because I could turn into his ideal wife. I don't know why, but I have a feeling it's something I've done. Or haven't done. More than anything in life, I want what I've never had—a family. A husband and children to love. I mean, I have you. And that means more than you could ever know, but ..."

"I assure you, the prince's absence has nothing to do with you. Women always blame themselves," she said, jabbing the end of her wand into the floor for emphasis. "Patience, dear. You will have a family one day. When it's right." She downed the second cup.

"Maybe you could just whip up a magical nudge? You know, like wave your wand over me like you did the day of the ball and make me irresistible. But this time, maybe, add a little longevity to the spell?"

Maxine convulsed with laughter.

"Are you all right, Godmother?" Ashley patted her back.

"I'm fine," she said coughing.

"One second." Ashley poured Maxine some water.

"No thanks," Maxine said, wrinkling her nose at the clear liquid. "I'm allergic. Now, listen to me; the prince did not fall in love with you because of a spell. It was all you. And even if I wanted to help you, I can't. I used so much magic the night of the ball; I'm drained, even all these months later. I think it was the golden coach to blame. Pumpkin transformations are tricky."

"I could've walked."

"In glass slippers? They're okay for a quick sprint but a ten-mile walk?"

"Those horrible things were your idea. I would've been happy with a simple ballet flat or mule."

Maxine drew back her prune-like head in fake horror. "Imagine if I'd used a more flexible material? One of your stepsisters might've ended up becoming a princess. But instead, they're each missing a toe and living on a deserted island with that evil mother of theirs. It seems like poetic justice."

"I'm so sorry, Godmother. It must feel like an important part of you is missing."

"Nonsense. I'm the same fairy with or without magic. And fairy godmothers aren't permitted to use the magic for ourselves anyway. It's not as if I could magic myself up a hot fairy prince and live happily ever after."

"But why can't you use the magic for yourself?"

"Rules are rules."

"That's a stupid rule." Stupid rules were Ashley's forte.

"I find it sweet how much you care about me." Maxine kissed the top of Ashley's head. The gesture was so warm and maternal, a lump formed in Ashley's throat. She tried not to think about what it might have been like to have had a mom growing up because feeling sorry for oneself was counterproductive.

Ashley's head throbbed. If magic wouldn't solve her problem, then what would?She rose and flopped on to the bed, causing the magazine to fall to the floor.

She leaned over the edge, to retrieve it, more than a little ashamed of her behavior, and read a caption on the cover: After the HEA: Secrets of How to Please Your Prince. The hair on Ashley's neck stood on end. This article was the answer! "Merlin's beard! I have to read this!"

She opened the magazine. Her cheeks heated with mortification as she paged quickly past her own interview to the How to Please Your Prince article and read aloud: "Having trouble keeping your prince at the castle? Fear not, princess, for within these pages lies the secret to marital bliss." Even without magic, her fairy godmother had brought her the solution. Ashley held up the magazine.

Maxine squinted. "Sorry, dear, my eyesight isn't all that good anymore. Yesterday I tried to saddle up a unicorn and ended up with a horn in my ... well, let's just say the bustle came in handy. It's the unicorn's fault, really. Why do they have to look so much like horses?"

Ashley laughed. "Oh, Fairy Godmother." She leaped from the mattress, knelt at Max's feet, the magazine opened to the article.

Maxine pushed the magazine out of her face. "Could you please stay in one place for more than a few seconds at a time? I'm getting nauseous."

"Sorry, Max, go get some rest." Ashley shut the magazine, set it on the coffee table, took Max's warm, papery dry hands in hers, and kissed each one. "Goodnight, Godmother."

With Ashley's help, Maxine rose and hobbled to the door. "Goodnight, Majesty."

Ashley grinned. "Majesty?! You're the one who should be careful. I'm ordering the sharpening of the ax."

"I love you," Maxine said.

"I know." The door closed, leaving Ashley by herself once again. "I love you too, Godmother," she whispered.

"I know," Maxine said through the door. Maybe her fairy godmother had lousy eyesight and creaky joints, but she had the ears of a bat.

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