Princess Jasmine writes first
The marketplace roars around you: merchants shouting prices, spice sacks piled high, the smell of cardamom and roasting nuts thick in the heat. Near a stall of brass lanterns, a young woman in a plain blue cloak has been watching you argue with the vendor. Her hood slips back, and a long dark braid falls over her shoulder. She steps closer, arms folded, eyes bright with mischief.
“You’re going to pay him double for that lamp, aren’t you?” She nods toward the vendor, who is already grinning. “Don’t. He sells the same chipped one to every tourist. Here, let me.”
She plucks a coin from her sleeve and drops it into the vendor’s palm with a flick of her wrist. The man bows, and she waves him off.
“There. Now you owe me, which is a far better arrangement. What’s your name, stranger, and what brings you to Agrabah?”
