Jasmine quickly realized that caring for a household was a full time job. There was always something that needed to be done and even by dawn on that third day, she was chasing Lira around the house, struggling to keep up. It was physically demanding and Jasmine had an enormous amount of respect for the servants at the palace. If it were up to her, she'd increase their pay ten-fold. A fleeting thought passed through her mind, but before she could grasp it, Lira was calling for her attention again.
By midday, Jasmine was glad to be out of the house. She had a simple errand to run at the market, but it was an excuse to escape the constant commotion of the very full abode. And she very much wanted to visit Amir, the butcher, if only to thank him again. She pocketed the three silver coins and hurried out the door.
The market was in full swing when she arrived. The sensory experience of the market never ceased to thrill her and she had to consciously pull herself away from the delicious smells and sights of the vendors. She located Amir quickly and he smiled as she approached.
"Miss Mina! Wonderful to see you again!" Jasmine dipped her head, her grin matching his intensity. "You just missed my wife. I told her about you and she was quite curious to meet you."
Jasmine's heart swelled. "Mr. Amir, I'm flattered. She must be some woman to match a great man such as you," she joked.
Amir laughed haughtily. "If you see yourself having a free evening, we would very much enjoy your company at dinner."
"What a generous offer!" Jasmine exclaimed. "Let me talk to my sister and I will let you know tomorrow. Will that be good?"
"Of course, my dear. We shall await your answer tomorrow. Did you need anything today?" He gestured at the hanging meats, their spicy cured aroma wafting through the air.
"Perhaps tomorrow. Someone gave us extra yesterday," she said, playfully. His grin widened and they said their goodbyes. Jasmine hurried off to finish Lira's errand and maybe purchase a snack to nibble on under her favorite tree.
Someone was yelling. It stirred Jasmine awake and she blinked rapidly in confusion, her alarm lessening when she realized she was not the cause of the commotion. A man was merely scolding a stray for cozying up on his front stoop. It took her an extra few breaths to realize that she had fallen asleep. She was resting beneath her tree in the main square and must have dozed off, for the sun had already dipped below the city walls and dusk had begun to take hold of the city.
Jasmine scrambled clumsily to her feet, brushing the dust from her clothes, before taking off at a hurried pace for home. There was an eerie silence that hung through the streets. Dimmed candlelight could be seen through a few windows, but no one wandered the streets. She chided herself on her foolishness. She thought about the scrap of paper Rajah had written for her. The first rule on the very short list was simply: "Do not be on the streets after dusk."
Jasmine rounded a corner. Then another. Then another. Then she froze. She was standing in a dead end. Without the vendors and their brightly colored stands and the glowing sunlight on the clay walls of the city, Jasmine quickly lost track of her surroundings. She turned around abruptly. She had just taken two right turns. Right? But had she turned on the first street too early? Darkness was rapidly engulfing her and a panic started to form in her belly.
She raced to retrace her steps. Left, left… Relief flooded her whole body at the faint sight of the main square. From here, she could correct her mistakes. From here, she could get home quickly. She took a deep breath, settling her breath, her thoughts racing with her apology to Lira. She took a step forward and came to a jarring halt, a sudden pain gripping her upper arm.
"And just where do you think you're running off to, slave?" The deep voice groaned in her ear, the large burly hand on her arm tightening, forcing her to turn around. Two towering men with unruly beards and large daggers at their waists stood before her. She froze in fear, all words of protest escaping her. The one holding her arm shook her violently. "I asked you a question, bitch!" he yelled. "Are you mute?" She shook her head, although she wasn't sure what to say. Had he called her a slave?
"Well, then, use that pretty mouth of yours and tell us where you're off to in such a hurry." His voice lowered and Jasmine could sense something lurking in his eyes that she couldn't quite place.
"I am returning to my sister's home by the northern gate," she spoke timidly, unsure what would anger the men more: stubbornness or silence.
Both men laughed; an ugly laugh that sent a shiver down Jasmine's spine. "Did you hear that, Aamir? This little Sassan whore would have us believe she has a sister living in the city." The man named Aamir laughed again and spat at her feet, but said nothing.
Jasmine dared to resist, trying to pull herself away. "Her husband is Rajah, head of the Royal Guard. I do not lie," she gasped, trying again to pull away, to no avail.
Aamir stepped forward, grasping her other arm, his words sliding out like venom. "Neither do Razeen and me. A runaway slave forces us to do our job. And we…" he paused for terrifying effect, "We like our jobs. You'll pay the price or your ass will be the sorriest piece of flesh in all of Agrabah come dawn."
If there had been more than a sliver of moonlight, the men would have seen the color drain from Jasmine's face. She was overpowered, had no weapon, and was having the sinking realization of just how important Rajah's first rule was. But it might not matter now. Jasmine made the quick decision to fight; there was no way they were taking her easily.
She used all her power to push away. She started twisting and turning, using all of her weight to force their hands loose. They squeezed tighter and laughed. Razeen, with lust in his voice, urged "Please, slut, continue to fight us. We like it better when you struggle." She felt herself moving towards the opposite direction of her home: going south. Rajah's second rule: "Do not venture to the southern part of the city." Dread sunk into her very soul and her mother's face appeared in her mind, dripping with disappointment. A tear began to leak as an unexpected shout came from across the square.
"Hey! Scumbags! Hands off the lady."
Razeen and Aamir turned in unison, with Jasmine locked between them. Razeen, clearly the dominant of the two, yelled back effortlessly. "You got a death wish? Do you have any idea who we are?" His voice was laced with poison and Jasmine could see spittle flying through the air at his words.
The stranger was cloaked in darkness, under Jasmine's fig tree. He rounded the shaded trunk and stepped into the meager moonlight, speaking softly and with a great deal of calm. "Do you have any idea who I am?"
Jasmine took in the young man's face, judging him to be only slightly older than she. He had a strong build, his muscles gleaming under his dark stained vest. While taller than herself, his frame was nowhere near as intimidating as the men who held her captive. And if it weren't for the scimitar tied to his waist, Jasmine's faith in this man, which wasn't much to begin with, would have been considerably less.
Jasmine was about to abandon hope in a rescue and resume her fight, when the two brutes took in the young man's face and instantly dropped their grip on her arms. Brief shock stunned her, but she quickly stepped aside, rubbing her now bruised arms. Taking several steps back, she watched in awe as the two burly thugs fumbled apologies and stuttered out pleas for forgiveness.
"I'm feeling gracious tonight," the man offered, benevolently. "So why don't you drag your pathetic asses home and don't let me catch you in these streets the rest of the evening." They enthusiastically nodded and bowed, mumbled words of thanks cascading from their mouths, as they backed away. Within seconds, they had disappeared into the growing darkness of the city.
Jasmine felt her legs give way and she crumpled to the dirt, where she had been napping minutes earlier. She noticed the soft presence of her unexpected rescuer by her side, flinching as he brushed her arm.
"My apologies, miss." He extended his hand to aid her to her feet. "Are you hurt?" Jasmine hesitated, as she looked into the man's face, which was once again hidden in shadow. She took his hand and regained her balance.
"I'll be fine," she said, meekly. "And thank you."
"It was my pleasure." She could tell from his voice that he was smiling, although she couldn't tell in what context. "Can I escort you to your sister's?" Assuming he had overheard the entire interaction, she nodded with no hesitation.
They walked in silence as Jasmine's mind reeled with a hundred questions, but she couldn't make herself ask any of them. Within no time, they had appeared outside Rajah's cramped clay house. Jasmine turned to face the young man, this time his face illuminated by the brightening moon. The intensity of his brown eyes mirrored her own and she could sense through his stare and his cocky smile, that he was holding back his own questions.
"I should get inside," she whispered, unsure why she felt so timid in his presence.
"That would be best," he answered, calmly. "The streets of Agrabah are no place for someone so… fair to be traveling after dark."
Jasmine shivered at his brief pause. She questioned briefly if he knew who she really was, but quickly dismissed the idea. She watched him give a small bow, his right hand resting over his heart and begin to back away. The distress of the evening had left her mind wired in a million different directions. So, it wasn't until she was lying in bed, gazing out the window at the moonlight, did she remember that he never told her his name.