“What’s not to like?” Aladdin grinned.
Jasmine blushed and reached down again to pet the large cat’s soft fur. Aladdin dismounted and gave it a quick ear rub.
“Raja loved when you did that,” Jasmine said. “He’s so protective over me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him warm up so quickly to anyone before.”
“He’s a pretty great tiger,” Aladdin said. “Now if we could just find a way to bring him here, would there really be a reason to ever leave Ababwa?” He grinned at her. “How about it?”
Jasmine looked at him with a start. She hesitated, as though she were unsure how to respond.
“Oh, I was kidding,” he said quickly. His cheeks flushed. “I didn’t mean—”
“No, I mean, yes, I know you’re joking,” Jasmine said quickly. “Of course. But I guess I just…I wish it didn’t have to end, either.”
They trotted their horses back to the stable.
“Want to check out the streets of Ababwa?” he asked her as they dismounted. “Visit some of the shops and see the town up close?”
“I’d love that.” She smiled.
They left the menagerie and headed toward the palace, talking about the town and the sights contained therein. But he couldn’t shake one thought. Aladdin glanced at Jasmine. He’d been joking at first about moving to Ababwa, but now that he’d said it aloud, the thought wouldn’t leave him. Why did their time here have to end? Why would anyone walk away from a place that was good and perfect and working for both of them to return to a place that wasn’t?
Was it so ridiculous to wonder?
THE PEOPLE of the kingdom of Saravania loved their verdant meadows with grazing goats and bright blue fireflies that glowed yellow against the evening sun. They loved how safe and secure they felt, their kingdom separated as it was from nearby lands by vast oceans.
“Beware the places beyond the sea,” intoned teachers as children huddled close to one another. “Evil lurks beyond the horizon. People who harm and cause heartache and pain.”
It wasn’t that life was perfect on Saravania, for even in their kingdom there was a disease of late afflicting the pomegranate trees—and a rash of unexplained headaches and fevers afflicting the town elders. Still, even with that, life was good. They knew they were more fortunate than most, and of course they had their artwork. Be it stitchwork, painting, or ceramics, the people of Saravania were uncommonly gifted in the arts, and despite the imperfections there may have been, everyone was grateful and content.
Everyone except Princess Zeena.
“It’s really too much,” the sultana, her mother, would admonish her. “You are a princess in a most beautiful kingdom, and yet you pout and sulk and are unsatisfied.”
Zeena gazed out the window and said nothing. It was an argument with no proper resolution. Her younger sisters were gifted artists, stitching oceans from thread and painting fireflies that looked so lifelike one could think they were genuine. And though Zeena admired these pursuits, they could not capture her heart completely.
Zeena often looked out at the deep blue waters from the window of her bedroom tower. Fishermen docked just a few feet from shore, not far from the royal sailboat; their lines sank into the abyss. Seagulls swooped in the sky and dove into the water before flying on. She had grown up on the stories of the dangers beyond the horizon like everyone else, but if there were dangers, she wished to see them for herself. She wondered if other lands had palaces like their own. If they had festivals to celebrate the sun and the moon twice a year. What sorts of clothes did they wear? What languages did they speak? Did they laugh and smile differently from the people of Saravania? How similar were they to her? How different?
Zeena craved different. And she resented the uniformity of Saravania as much as everyone else seemed to find comfort in it. While others drew and painted, Zeena wandered to the shore behind her castle and searched the coves for undiscovered shells and treasures. And it was at such a moment that, one day, her destiny unfolded.
As she sat by a beachy cove one balmy summer afternoon, Zeena heard a loud splash. A fisherman’s boat capsized before her eyes. The man’s hands flailed about, the ocean’s riptide so strong it threatened to carry him out to sea. Zeena leapt up and dove into the water. As she helped him to shore, the fisherman thanked her profusely for saving his life.
And then, Zeena had an idea.
The next day she approached the man as he prepared to board his boat.
“Would you have any idea how to operate a sailboat?” she asked him.
“Yes, Princess.” The man nodded. “I’m proficient with most of the boats on our island.”
“Could you teach me how our royal sailboat might work? And would I be able to count on your discretion?”
“You saved my life. Anything you ask for is yours,” the man said.
As the weeks passed, the man taught Zeena the workings of a sailboat. How the mast flew up and blew out, how to stop it in rough waters to keep from capsizing, and the ways to change its direction based on how the wind blew.
When the sultana walked in later that week to find Zeena stitching red thread onto a white cloth at her desk, she startled.
“What is this?” she asked her daughter.
“Embroidery,” Zeena said, too consumed with her work to even glance up. “The family emblem, for our royal sailboat. I thought it would be nice to have a new look for it.”
“That’s a marvelous idea.” The sultana could have danced for joy seeing her daughter absorbed as she was with her work. “We can display it at the festival, perhaps,” her mother said.
“I don’t know if it will be done by then,” Zeena said thoughtfully.
“Take your time. Art requires the utmost patience.” Her mother squeezed her shoulder and then walked away.
Day after day Zeena worked on the embroidery. Soon brilliant flowers bloomed all along the cloth. Everyone agreed it was the most beautiful sail they’d ever seen.
The day of the festival, Zeena began to cough.
“Are you sick?” her younger sister asked her.
“I am.” Zeena sneezed. Looking at her sister’s concerned expression, she felt a sharp pang of guilt, but she also knew she had to carry out her plan to control her own destiny.
She waved goodbye to her family as they left for the festivities, promising to join them later if she improved over the day. As soon as the palace was empty—for the holiday meant everyone had the day off—Zeena hopped out of bed, grabbed the embroidered sail and her knapsack filled with supplies for her journey, and quietly slipped out.
