The Sultan's inner sanctum was, despite being the place where the Sultan spent most of his time, a tiny room. Small windows high on the walls allowed some of the late afternoon sun to filter into the room, illuminating the opulent treasures that filled the space. Items collected from all over the world, some given as gifts, others brought home as treasured mementos back when he had traveled with his late wife, lined the shelves and spilled out onto the floor. The Sultan had always loved this part of the palace. Despite its size, it had always felt like a spacious safe haven to him. It was, as the name implied, a sanctuary.

But right then, it felt crowded.

Both Jafar and Hakim stood with their eyes fixed on the Sultan as he absently played with a golden horse. The meeting with Prince Anders had gone horribly. The Sultan knew that. Jasmine had been reckless in her sarcasm, but he couldn't be mad at his daughter. Her spirit was so like that of her mother.

“Our enemies grow stronger every day,” Jafar said, his cold voice out of place in the warm room. “Yet you allow your daughter to dismiss Prince Anders and a possible military alliance —”

“Which enemies?” the Sultan interrupted. He was not in the mood to hear Jafar criticize his daughter yet again. Jafar's fingers tightened around the staff in his hand.

“Shirabad continues to amass —”

“Shirabad is our ally,” the Sultan corrected. This was a conversation he and his vizier had had already — many, many times. He was growing tired of Jafar's suspicions and accusations. Yet for some reason, he seemed to always end up agreeing with the man in the end ... . “You would drag us into a war with our oldest —”

This time it was Jafar who interrupted. “And you would allow your kingdom to sink into ruin for mere sentiment.”

Anger flashed in the Sultan's eyes. “Jafar!” he snapped. “Remember your place!” The Sultan prided himself on being a calm and peaceful man and ruler. Even as the words left his mouth, he felt guilt for losing his patience with his vizier. But Jafar knew better than to bring up sentiment when it came to Shirabad. Turning, the Sultan looked at his head guard. “You may go, Hakim.”

Jafar watched as the man left, shutting the door behind him. When Hakim's footsteps had faded away, Jafar turned back to the Sultan. He was tired of being insulted by this man with his silly heart and inability for action. Yet he had no choice. He was there to serve at the Sultan's command.

Or at least, that is what he allowed the man to believe.

“Forgive me, my sultan,” Jafar said. Then, raising his staff, he pointed the metallic snake engraved on the top toward the Sultan. Slowly, the snake's eyes began to glow red. The red grew darker and darker, seeming to pulse with power. Jafar's hand tightened and the power grew. He had kept his powers and connection to magic a secret from the Sultan. It would do him no good if the Sultan realized just how much he “relied” on Jafar. “If you would only reconsider ...” Jafar said, causing the Sultan to look directly at him — and in turn, the staff. The Sultan's eyes locked on the snake, and instantly, his expression grew dull. He couldn't seem to pull his attention away from the staff.

Jafar smiled sinisterly as he watched the mesmerized Sultan. “I think you'll see that invading Shirabad is the right thing to do ,” he said in a smooth, hypnotic tone.

The Sultan nodded, in a trance. “Invading Shirabad is the right thing —”

“Invade Shirabad?”

Jasmine's voice echoed off the walls of the sanctum, breaking the spell. Jafar stifled a curse as he turned and saw the princess standing in the doorway, suspicion on her face. In a few long strides, she had crossed to her father and taken his hand. She looked at him with a combination of worry and disappointment. “Why would we invade my mother's kingdom?” she asked. “If not for Shirabad, we'd have no access to inland trade —”

“We would never invade Shirabad,” the Sultan said, unaware of what he had been about to agree to before his daughter's arrival.

Stepping between father and daughter, Jafar once more lifted his staff, blocking it from Jasmine's view. The snake's eyes grew red as he spoke. “But an ally in Skånland could improve our situation,” he said to the Sultan.

Unable to stop himself, the Sultan nodded, once more going along with Jafar's idea. “Yes,” he said. “If you would give Prince Anders a chance.”

“To rule our people?” Jasmine asked, not bothering to stifle her laugh. “Raja would make a better ruler.”

The Sultan did not seem to find her suggestion amusing. His expression grew serious, as did his tone as he spoke. “I'm not getting any younger, my dear. We must find you a husband, and we're running out of kingdoms ...”

“What foreign prince could care for our people as I do? Why can't I lead —”

“You cannot be sultan,” her father said, cutting her off. “Because it has never been done in the thousand-year history of our kingdom.”

Jasmine wanted to scream. It wasn't fair. She had read every book there was on her country. She knew the history of Agrabah better than the best scholars, she was sure of it. She had studied the maps and looked at the borders. She knew the alliances and the enemies. And yet none of that mattered — because she hadn't been born a boy. “I have been preparing for this my whole life,” Jasmine tried. “I've read every book.”

Jafar's slick voice cut in. “Books!” he said, this time the one to laugh at the idea. “But you cannot read experience, Princess.”

“Better a leader who cares for her people than —”

Jafar stopped her. “Actually, it isn't,” he said, shaking his head. His dark eyes grew darker and his voice dripped with arrogance. “Ignorance is dangerous. People left unchecked will revolt. Walls and borders unguarded will be attacked.”

“I'm afraid Jafar is right, my dear,” the Sultan said. “The world is a dangerous place.”

Nodding, Jafar didn't bother to hide his smile of pleasure at hearing the Sultan's agreement. Emboldened, the vizier stepped forward and put a hand on Jasmine's shoulder. She tried not to visibly shudder at his touch, but her stomach roiled. “We each have an important role to play, Princess. Why not focus on what you do so well and leave these more serious matters to us?”

Jasmine's mouth dropped open and her hands clenched at her sides. Before she could even formulate a response, the two men turned and left, shutting the door behind them. Alone in the sanctum, Jasmine felt a wave of emotion wash over her. What more could she do? What more did she have to say? Every time she had tried to make her father hear her, she had felt as though her voice was drowned out by Jafar's thunderous one. Just thinking his name made the shudder she had held back roll over her. She hated the man. She had heard him described as handsome by some of the servant girls, heard them giggling when he walked by. But she didn't see anything remotely attractive about the man. To her, he was just ugly — inside and out.

I'm not going to let them keep me quiet, Jasmine thought as she entered her chambers and walked out onto the balcony. Looking at the city below, her city, she nodded. I'll find a way to prove to them that I'm right. I know I can rule. I just need to make them believe it ... .

* * *

In his private study, Jafar stared down at the ancient scrolls spread across his desk. Candlelight sent shadows dancing across the weathered vellum, highlighting writing and illustrations and then sending them back into darkness. Most of the writing was faded, barely legible. A few illustrations could be made out in the corners of the pages — a genie's lamp, a carpet that appeared to be flying, the head of a lion.

For years, Jafar had been staring at these same papers. Hidden among them was supposed to be the solution to his predicament — always being beside power, but never holding it. He would never admit it aloud, but Jasmine wasn't entirely different from him. Well, other than the fact that she wanted to be a ruler to help her people, and he wanted to be a ruler to control the people. But that aside, they both wanted something that seemed impossible.

Unless ... unless he could find what he was looking for ... .

“Remember your place, Jafar?”

Hearing his parrot's voice reciting the Sultan's earlier words, Jafar scowled and looked up. The parrot was perched on his stand by the window, ruffling his feathers. “Another petty insult from that narrow-minded fool,” Jafar said, fresh anger filling him. “He sees a city where I see an empire.” He looked back down at the scrolls. His eyes focused on the faded illustration of a genie's lamp. That was his solution. The lamp. If he had read the papers right — and he was sure he had — getting that lamp would solve everything. Getting that lamp and finding a “diamond in the rough.” “Once the lamp sits on this desk, I will sit on his throne. I just have to —”

“Thief in the palace!”

Iago's words startled Jafar. He asked the parrot to repeat himself. A thief in the palace? Jafar mused as the parrot did what he was told and then resumed his grooming. Walking over to the large window that overlooked the palace courtyard, Jafar scanned the grounds. Iago was his most trusted eyes and ears. He knew the bird was speaking the truth, but all he could see was darkness.

And then, out of the shadows emerged a figure. Squinting, Jafar watched as a young man deftly made his way behind the guards, his feet silent on the ground, his moves those of one who had spent years avoiding trouble. But the young man never resorted to violence, even when, at one point, he almost came face-to-face with a particularly large guard wielding a particularly large sword. A smile began to tug at Jafar's lips as he watched the thief slip through one of the doors off the courtyard. Iago had been right to call his attention to the thief. I wonder what he's up to, Jafar thought. What is he after? It must be good — to risk slipping past so many guards. He cocked his head. Whoever the thief was, it would be wise for Jafar to keep an eye on him. The young man was clearly skilled in thievery and wily if he could get past the guards. Someone like that could be a problem ... or a solution. He would have to see which of the two this young man would prove to be. GmrjWYbjWXMCrEAXirrcXN6ECHu5HY0MZt/E9JrXyPMUsFll62udvodU3Ih4Ld7I