The marketplace hummed with an energy that enthralled Jasmine. Her senses were overwhelmed and her attention was drawn in every direction. There were vendors selling an extensive array of wares, foods, and services. Entertainers littered the streets, performing their craft with dedicated elegance. Musicians played bright, cheery tunes which wafted over the indulgent smells of smoking fish and spice. People were shouting, haggling, and cussing over the constant bustle. Every person moved, spoke, and worked with a passion she envied instantly.
Lira had sent Jasmine out early the next morning with a short list of purchases, a few coins, and strict instructions not to come back until dinner. Jasmine assumed she meant for her to explore, learn the lay of the market, and just enjoy some freedom. For hours she milled slowly through the crowds, taking in every detail. Jasmine admired the artistry of the many house wares and trinkets. At the urging of her growling stomach, she sampled several savory pastries and decadent treats. She paid a whole silver dirham for chilled goat's milk that she savored on her tongue as if it were from Allāh himself. The heat from the sun did little to quell her lightness of heart and she remained content the entire morning, flitting about the bazaar.
No one bothered for her name, no one bowed or knelt in front of her, not one person cowered from her title. She was simply a normal woman pursuing and purchasing goods for her household, if anyone bothered to be concerned about it. It was a startling change, but a welcome one.
The food and crafts were truly amazing, but Jasmine was fascinated by the people. People of all different shapes and sizes, colors and dress. She heard languages she didn't recognize. And secretly sat in on conversations in languages she did. She listened to people recount their daily lives to friends and neighbors. She sat captivated as she overheard stories about distant lands she'd only read about in scrolls or seen etched on fading maps. The great big world that had seemed so tiny on paper was exploding in front of her; and she was thrilled.
With her kabob lunch in tow, she nestled under a tree in the main square. It was a place she'd been many times, always hidden away in the royal caravan. Her father kept her hidden, as if she was a treasure. To feel the breeze on her face and sprawl under a tree, eating whatever she pleased, was pure bliss.
It took great effort to leave her tranquil little spot. She promised she would make it back there again before the week was up. She hurried around to the closing shops and grabbed the rest of the items on Lira's list. The jolly man selling cured meats remembered her name and gave her an extra sausage. Jasmine was in shock. She'd only received gifts from pretentious nobles looking to earn favor from the throne. But in that moment, this man was gifting her something out of genuine kindness. And without asking for anything, except, perhaps, return business, which she'd would happily do.
Crawling into bed that evening, Jasmine's thoughts felt more peaceful than they had in, maybe, her entire life. There were no pressures, no duty, no façade. She lay there with a smudge on her nose and dirt under her nails. She was going to get calluses on her hands and feet when they finally healed. And her cheeks hurt from smiling.