Dalia stood, arms crossed, waiting. On the other side of the elaborate doors to her mistress's chambers, she could hear the heavy footsteps of the palace guards coming closer. She could also hear Jasmine's protests as the princess tried to talk her way out of her current situation.

A moment later, the doors swung open, revealing Jasmine. The princess attempted to retain some dignity as she was unceremoniously shown inside, and the doors slammed shut behind her. Dalia tried not to smile.

"How far did you make it this time?" Dalia asked.

Jasmine raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. "I thought I saw a gate they missed," she said. She began to pace around her chambers. More library than bedroom, her chambers' walls were covered in maps, and books lined the shelves and toppled over on tables and chairs. Lush, thick curtains framed tall windows that looked out over the city— her city—below.

Dalia followed behind Jasmine, her voice growing gentle. She knew how desperately Jasmine longed to see more than the walls of the palace. But Dalia also knew what Jasmine did deep down—that Jasmine was the princess of Agrabah. And as such, her place seemed to be behind the walls. "Don't worry, one day you'll escape," she said, trying to sound positive.

Jasmine let out a sigh. "How can I lead a people I don't even know?" she asked. Walking toward a window, she looked out into the courtyard. The trees nearest the window had all been trimmed so that Jasmine could not attempt to climb down them (again). A guard stood at attention in the garden below, and the windows lower to the ground had been barred. All reactions to Jasmine's frequent attempts to escape.

"No one is asking you to," Dalia pointed out. "All you have to do is wake up and act like a princess and wait for death."

"As enticing as that sounds," Jasmine replied, raising an eyebrow at her friend's poor attempt at humor, "I want more than that. I want to be with the people of Agrabah." She walked the rest of the way to the window and flopped down on the large window seat. Raja, her beloved tiger, padded up and placed his large head in Jasmine's lap. Absently, Jasmine began to pat the creature's beautiful head. She had had the tiger since Raja was a cub. The animal's large size, huge paws, and sharp teeth were practically unnoticeable to Jasmine. All she saw was a friend and companion, one constant in the palace life around her. The other constant? Her desire to go beyond the palace walls.

Her world was limited—her opulent chambers, the garden with its plants and animals placed to make it feel as though the environs were natural. But like her happiness in her home, it was all a facade. The garden was nothing more than pretend, and most of the time, Jasmine felt that she, too, was pretending. Pretending to love her life, pretending to care about her silly day-to-day tasks. She sighed. No. She wasn't happy spending her days reading about other people living their lives to the fullest, sultans risking it all for their people. She wanted to be living those things herself, doing them herself. "Tell me again about the market," she finally said, gazing over at her handmaiden.

Dalia smiled gently. She loved Jasmine like a sister. They were, in many ways, as close as sisters. Dalia had been a part of Jasmine's life for as long as the princess could remember. And as such, there were times, even though Jasmine was the princess and Dalia the handmaiden, that Dalia wished she could ignore Jasmine's requests. Especially when it was the same request she had heard countless times before. "Remember the time you wanted to see where I live?" Dalia said. Jasmine nodded. "Then, when you saw it you screamed, and then you were sad?" Dalia continued.

Jasmine frowned and shook her head. That was not how it had happened. Not exactly, at least. There may have been some tears, but she was pretty sure that was just because she stubbed her toe, not because seeing where Dalia lived made her sad.

Ignoring the princess's look, Dalia went on. "The market is exactly like that," she said. "Why would you want to go there?"

Getting to her feet, Jasmine began to walk around her chambers, her fingers brushing along the myriad of maps that lined the walls. Some were ancient, their edges frayed and their writing faded. Others were newer, marking territory claimed by Agrabah during Jasmine's twenty years. Old or new, Jasmine loved them all. But maps weren't enough anymore. She wanted to be more than just an observer of her country and her people. She just needed to convince her father. "I know these maps better than I know my own city," she said softly. "Help me sneak out, Dalia. If I can prove to Baba that I have the knowledge and experience to lead, he might change his mind. And I'll never learn any of that stuck in a palace." Her words bounced around the chamber and Jasmine could hear the desperation in her own voice.

Dalia shook her head. "If you get caught, I'll be thrown in the dungeon."

"You know I'd never let anything happen to you," Jasmine said.

"The dungeon," Dalia repeated. "That is the thing that would be happening to me."

It was time to change tactics. Walking over to her, Jasmine took her handmaiden's hands in her own and gave her the most pathetic expression it seemed she could muster. Dalia was a softy deep down. Jasmine just needed to pull on the right heartstring. "Any moment now, I'll end up married to some puffed-up prince and I may never get this chance again," the princess continued. The thought of being shackled to someone she didn't love did in fact make Jasmine's heart ache and her eyes water. "Please, Dalia?"

Dalia sighed. Then slowly, she began to nod. "I hate that I'm weak and can be talked into anything and can't say no," she said, trying not to smile.

But Jasmine wasn't listening. The princess had let out an excited squeal and was clapping her hands together happily. Then she threw her arms around her best friend.

"I wish I didn't love you," Dalia said.

Jasmine just squeezed harder. Wishes weren't real. But going to see the market? That was finally, really happening.

Jasmine nervously pulled at the hem of her cloak, wishing she hadn't been so quick to brush off Dalia's offer to accompany her. It would have been comforting to know where she was going. But as she made her way deeper into the market, she soon forgot to be nervous, instead growing enchanted by the multitude of new smells, sounds, and sights. She had read so much about her own city and now it was coming to life in front of her very eyes. She wanted to squeal with excitement but quickly thought better of it.

Everything seemed brighter, Jasmine thought as she walked through the stalls. The palace was beautiful and opulent, but it was muted. The windows filtered the full strength of the sun, and the thick walls meant to keep out the heat of the day also kept out the smells. Here nothing was muted. She passed among the stalls, her eyes growing wide as she took in purple eggplants and yellow bananas, green melons and glistening oranges lined up to tantalize passersby. More stalls were filled with spices from around the world, their scents pungent and unfamiliar. Lifting a hand, Jasmine ran a finger over a row of rugs. She smiled as her eyes wandered over an intricate pattern on red-and-yellow fabric, the shot of blue throughout reminding her of Agrabah itself and its proximity to the sea. It was no wonder people who came to Agrabah were instantly enchanted. She had lived there her whole life and yet felt like she was seeing this city of rainbow colors for the first time.

Catching sight of a particularly beautiful piece of pottery, Jasmine headed toward the other side of the market. She let out a startled cry as she nearly tripped over a young child hunched on the ground, picking at the meager crumbs of bread that had fallen from a cart. Her eyes welled with tears as she took in the boy's protruding ribs and the fevered way he shoved morsels of food into his mouth, as though he hadn't eaten in days.

She was so focused on him that she didn't register the handsome man standing nearby, juggling apples and teasing the fruit vendor. Nor did she bother to notice that the vendor, while ignoring the juggling man, was eyeing her warily. Concealed beneath the cloak of her borrowed servant's uniform, she only had eyes for the boy and the girl who had joined him, also making a meal from crumbs.

Reaching up, Jasmine pulled two loaves of bread from the nearby stall and handed them to the children. "There you go ..." she said.

The children didn't hesitate. Grabbing the loaves, they shoved them under their arms and took off. Suddenly, there was a shout from the next stall. Looking over, she saw that the owner was staring at her angrily. His fists were clenched. "You steal from my brother!" he cried.

Jasmine gulped. This was exactly what Dalia had warned her not to do. "Don't draw any attention to yourself, Princess," she had said while trying to answer Jasmine's endless questions about what to expect beyond the gates. Jasmine's love of learning extended beyond just maps. Finding out as much as she could about her city before she went out into it felt natural—even if it drove Dalia slightly crazy. "Keep your head down. Look all you want but do not touch. The last thing you want is someone noticing you."

Unfortunately, someone was definitely noticing her now.

Holding up her hands, Jasmine tried to placate the vendor. "Stealing, no sir," she began. "I don't know your brother—" She was cut short as the man grabbed her by the arm and pushed back the long sleeve of her cloak. The gold from the bracelet she had forgotten to take off glimmered in the sun.

"Stop!" she said with as much authority as she could muster, struggling in the man's tightening grip. Her heart was pounding against her chest. If he pulled off her cloak, he might discover who she really was. And if that happened, her father would find out and she might not get another chance to see everything that lay beyond the palace walls.

"Take it easy, Jamal, that's no way to treat a lady."

The kind voice startled Jasmine and she turned, wrenching her arm free. A young man stood near her, his dark brown eyes curious and calm despite the anger radiating from Jamal. Behind him, Jasmine could see several members of the city guard pushing their way through the growing crowd of people.

"Keep your street-rat nose out of it!" Jamal shouted. Clearly, the two knew each other.

As Jasmine watched, a small monkey scampered up the young man's arm and made to attack Jamal. But the man pulled the monkey's tail, shaking his head no. Then he turned and looked directly at Jasmine. For a split second, she forgot to breathe. There was something in his eyes, a kindness and a mysteriousness—and determination. He was a young man, but his eyes were wise with experience.

Coming closer, he lowered his head and whispered into her ear, "Do you have any money?" When she shook her head, his brows furrowed. "Okay," he finally said. "Do you trust me?"

Jasmine looked up, surprised. Trust him? She had only just met him. Yet there really wasn't much of a choice. If she didn't take his help, she was likely to lose her bracelet—or worse, be found out, and potentially be given more limitations than she already had. She nodded.

Still gazing into her eyes, the young man reached out and slipped the bracelet off her wrist. Turning, he held it out to Jamal. The man snatched it from him and then raised it to his mouth, biting the gold to make sure it was real.

"It's what you wanted, right?" the young man asked. Jamal nodded. "Good. And an apple for your troubles?" The young man handed an apple over. The transaction complete, the young man took Jasmine by the arm and began to steer her away from the stall. But not before he plucked up the bracelet, which Jamal had only moments ago put down, and replaced it with one of the apples he'd been juggling. When they were a few steps away, the young man leaned over and whispered to Jasmine so quietly that she almost missed it: "Get ready to run."

Run? Jasmine's eyes grew wider and once again her heart began to race. Was he serious?

As if on cue, Jamal, realizing what had really just happened, let out an angry shout. Immediately, the guards, who had slowed their pace when it looked like things had been settled peacefully, broke into a sprint.

"Down that alley!" the young man shouted as Jasmine looked frantically between the guards and him. "Monkey knows the way." The small furry creature jumped off his shoulder and onto hers. Then the young man swiftly climbed up onto a table in the market and began to wave his hands in the air. The jewelry he had taken back from Jamal glimmered and shone in the bright sunlight.

Jasmine stood, rooted to the dusty ground at her feet, until the young man told her to run once more. She didn't need to be told again. She took off, hearing the loud, pounding footsteps of the guards behind her.

Unfortunately, while she was able to run, she wasn't sure exactly where she was running to , and the little monkey was now nowhere to be seen. The man hadn't told her anything but "Down that alley," and that alley happened to have some twists and turns. Taking a wild guess, she went right and then left and then, finally, the alley straightened out. After hearing a series of exclamations—"Ow!" "Watch it!"—she wasn't surprised when, a moment later, the young man—and the monkey—turned the corner and appeared in front of her. He stopped suddenly, and for a long moment, he just stared at her. Then, grabbing her hand, he pulled her back down the alley the way they had come. HydRBlufVWa/7cigqIoMpEN6Uet/lP95kKtpo+U1bfku1xSy7RmZoINo3zERhlKh