"Consist, resist, assist, insist..." Eric ticked the words off of his fingers as he recited them. He was sitting upside-down on the library's sofa, with his legs propped up against the back of the furniture piece so that his feet dangled in the air. Lying across the sofa's seat cushions, his head hung partway off the edge, which allowed him to tilt it back to catch a glimpse of his father, who was sitting in an armchair placed opposite of the sofa.

If King Nikolaus noticed his son's gaze, he did not bother to acknowledge it. Keeping his attention on the book in his lap, he flicked at the corner of the page he was reading, gazing intently at the words.

The twelve-year-old prince sighed. "Enlist, persist, desist..." He gave a humph. "I wish this stupid exercise would desist," he muttered.

"What was that?" Nikolaus asked, glancing up at his son.

Eric snapped his mouth shut.

Nikolaus frowned. "Eric, I am well aware that this exercise is not a favorite of yours. But it is necessary."

Eric kicked his foot against the top of the sofa. "Why? It's not as though I'll be using the scepter anytime soon."

"No," agreed the king. "You likely will not be. But if something happens to me, the scepter's powers fall to you. And you need to be prepared to use it properly."

"Whose idea was it to make the scepter need rhyming spells, anyway?" huffed Eric. "Hoffmann doesn't have such ridiculous rules for his magic."

A smile pricked at the edge of Nikolaus' mouth. "Yes, well, it certainly wasn't my idea. Your great-great-great..." He paused. "Honestly, I don't remember how many generations back she is." He gave a shrug. "Some great-grandmother of yours had the scepter made for our family. She was the one who decided that the incantations should be spoken in rhyme. Apparently she was a great lover of poetry."

Eric made a sound of disgust, prompting a chuckle from his father.

Silence fell between them, and Eric tugged at a stray thread hanging from the sleeve of his shirt. "Why don't you use it more?" he asked.

Nikolaus glanced up, his attention having fallen back to the book. "Hm?"

"The scepter."

"Oh." Nikolaus tapped the book thoughtfully. "It's a very old, and very powerful object, Eric. It is not meant to be used for trivial things." He quirked an eyebrow at his son. "Such as conjuring up a platter of one hundred chocolate cakes."

Eric snickered. "Would you believe me if I said that it was Candy's idea to ask you for that?"

"No."

"Fair enough."

Nikolaus shook his head in exasperation. "The scepter is best used only in real need, Eric."

"Yes, yes, I understand," sighed Eric. He squinted at the book on Nikolaus' lap, trying to get a better look at it. "What are you reading?"

"A book about Parthenian legends."

Intrigue sparked in Eric's eyes. "Is it interesting?"

"Well, I think so." Nikolaus stood and walked over to the sofa. He waved at his son, and Eric obligingly swung his legs down and rolled over so that he could sit properly on the sofa. Nikolaus settled down beside him and laid the book open over both of their laps. "This chapter is particularly interesting. It's about prominent magical figures recorded in Parthenia's history."

Eric bent over the book. "The Sugar Plum Princess," he read. "A magical being of unknown origin. Said to possess extensive powers with the ability to cast or break enchantments of great strength. Is known for her kindness, clever wits, and bravery." Eric cast a doubtful look up at his father. "That's a fairly vague description."

Nikolaus gestured to the rest of the passage. "Ah, but here's the fascinating part. Apparently the Princess has been around for centuries. Now," he said, holding up a finger. "She may be an immortal being of some kind. Perhaps a fairy of some sort. But the book also speculates that the Sugar Plum Princess could be a title that passes on through a bloodline, so that there have actually been multiple Princesses over time."

Eric frowned, pondering the information. "Does it say where she is?"

Nikolaus shook his head. "No one knows for sure."

"Hm." Eric looked up at his father, a playful eagerness in his eyes. "Maybe you and I can go look for her. We'll even take Candy and the major along. Doesn't that sound far more exciting than staying here and attending lessons and conferences?"

"As tempting as that is," smiled Nikolaus. "I'm afraid we'll have to save such an expedition for another time."

"Which means never."

"Now, what kind of attitude is that?" Nikolaus asked. "There are no rules saying that royals can't have adventures." He glanced at the clock on the far wall of the library, then closed the book and stood. "But right now, our adventure is getting you to your mathematics lesson."

Eric groaned, but he obediently slid off the sofa.

Nikolaus patted his son's shoulder. "However, I don't think it's out of the question to ask Masha to bake chocolate cake for dessert tonight. What do you think?"

Despite himself, Eric could not help a grin as he looked up at his father. "As long as it's a big one."

Nikolaus laughed. "Of course."

/

Four years later…

Eric had been hoping that Elizabeth would agree to take the book to her niece with a little less interrogation.

"Why is she suddenly so important to you?" Elizabeth's eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him. "This gift? After all this time?"

Eric shuffled awkwardly, unsure how to answer the question. "I don't know," he finally said. "I just...it just is."

He relaxed as Elizabeth's expression softened.

"What do you want to give her?" she asked.

Relieved at Elizabeth's agreement to deliver his package, Eric led Elizabeth to his bedchamber. She stayed outside, while he went in to retrieve the gift.

There was a small bookshelf by his bedside. It had only two shelves, but they were stuffed full, to the point where a few books had to be laid haphazardly across the others. Eric crouched down, rummaging through them until he spotted the one he was looking for.

Stitched along its leather spine was the title Parthenian Folk Tales. Eric pulled it free, then paused, staring at the book that had been shoved onto the shelf beside it. Setting down the folk tales book, Eric reached for the other.

It was the book of Parthenian legends. Eric had borrowed it from the castle's library some time ago, but had never bothered returning it. He turned it over, then noticed a piece of paper sticking out of the top, acting as a marker.

He opened the book to the marked page. Printed across the top were the words The Sugar Plum Princess.

Eric fiddled with the marker in his hand absentmindedly as he skimmed the page. The mystery of the Princess' whereabouts had been vastly intriguing to him when his father had first told him about it. Now, as he looked over the passage once again, that old interest sparked up again.

He tapped his fingers against the book's spine and glanced back at Parthenian Folk Tales. He would have to read the passage about the Princess more thoroughly later. Tossing the book of legends onto the bookshelf, Eric snatched up Parthenian Folk Tales and hurried back into the corridor.

Elizabeth was surprised, yet impressed, by his gift. Well, it wasn't a gift, he tried to tell himself. He was merely passing on reading material to his father's friend's niece.

Ignoring how ridiculous that reasoning sounded, Eric could not help himself as he asked for the name of the girl. To his delight, Elizabeth complied.

"Clara. Her name is Clara."

/

"'Please, dear maiden,' begged the sparrow. 'Do not leave me here. If you do not help me, I shall never be free.'

Pity told hold of the farm girl's kind heart. She held out her hand, smiling as the sparrow hopped onto her finger. 'Of course I shall help you, good sparrow. Tell me what it is you need, and I shall do all that I can to' – ow!"

Clara flinched, her face scrunching up in pain. She lowered Parthenian Folk Tales to her lap to glance up at her aunt, who was brushing her hair.

"Sorry, my dear," apologized Elizabeth. "But you must hold still."

Clara squirmed in the chair she was sitting in. "Can't you put it all up for tonight?" A pleading look seeped into her eyes. "I saw a magazine at the train station this morning showing all sorts of beautiful hairstyles for young women. If I describe one to you, I'm sure you could replicate it."

"You are far too young to be putting all of your hair up, Clara," Elizabeth said.

"I'll be fourteen in a month!" exclaimed Clara. "Please, Aunt Elizabeth. I want to look elegant at the theatre."

"You'll look perfectly lovely with your hair down," Elizabeth said firmly.

Clara huffed in disappointment. She looked back at her book and flipped to the final page of the story she had been reading aloud. The illustration on it showed the now-disenchanted prince standing with the long-lost princess. It was a beautifully painted picture, but Clara could not help frowning as she studied the features of the prince. "I imagined him to have dark hair."

"Who?" asked Elizabeth.

Clara gestured to the prince, who had been painted with auburn hair. "I always pictured him to have dark brown hair. Or black." She pursed her lips, critically studying the illustration. "And blue eyes. Not brown."

Elizabeth lowered the hairbrush. "Why do you say that?" she asked curiously.

Clara shrugged. "I don't know. It's only with this book that I have that sensation. It never comes to mind when I read my other fairy tale books." She sighed, flipping the page back and forth. "It's so strange."

Elizabeth studied Clara closely. Perhaps it was just a coincidence. Perhaps there was a boy at school Clara was infatuated with that had dark hair and blue eyes. Or perhaps she simply favored those features.

Or perhaps...

A thrill shot through Elizabeth at the possibility. Clara, possessing magic? Elizabeth had thought about it from time to time, but she had not given it serious contemplation. After all, it was hard to determine which descendants in their family may receive such abilities, as it sometimes skipped one (or several) generations.

Yet it would explain Clara's imaginary prince.

Elizabeth's gaze fell to Parthenian Folk Tales. According to magic lore, when a person keeps an object of great sentimental value for a long time, part of who they are...attaches to it. Even if they give the object away, some of their aura remains linked to it. Non-magic users would never sense it, of course. But certain magic users might be able to catch particular echoes of who the object's previous owner had been. Accomplished users could determine full facial images and names, but those who had little to no practice with their magic may only sense vague physical traits. They may not even realize where the images are coming from.

Eric had given the book to Elizabeth only two months ago, so his aura would still be heavily attached to it.

It was possible that this was just a coincidence. Or...it was possible that this was something much more.

A smile curved Elizabeth's lips. She took two pieces of Clara's hair and twisted them around to pin up, leaving the rest to cascade down Clara's back in glossy waves.

She would have to keep a closer eye on her niece.

"Well, go on, then," prompted Elizabeth. "What happens next in the story?"

Clara blinked, tearing her gaze away from illustration of the prince. She adjusted the book in her hands and flipped back to the page she had left off on. Shifting in her chair, she resumed reading.

"'...tell me what it is you need, and I shall do all that I can to help.'

'First,' said the sparrow. 'You have to travel to the Rosemary Forest...'"