Rajah's Curse

Chapter 52: The Prince's Return

I stood on the balcony of my old rooms and stared out at the city of Agrabah.

In less than a year, it would be our city.

In less than a year, Jasmine and I would be wed.

In less than a year, I would be free of my cursed amulet once and for all.

It was an incredible prospect to consider. I ought to be thrilled and celebrating or even better, I ought to be asleep. Instead, I had taken the fourth best option and slipped in here while Fahir and the other guard outside of the princess's rooms weren't looking.

I knew that Jasmine always came out to her balcony before bed. All I had to do was wait for her to finish her dinner with the Galafem delegation and begin her nightly routine. Soon she'd see me out here, shivering in my traditional Mujulaai attire which was ill-suited for a dry Agrabah winter night. Then she and I would discuss my absence and this evening.

The princess had seemed elated by the result of our audience with the Mujulaai Pandit Commission. However, the court had been too full of listening ears to be sure of her true opinion, and there was so much to process. Even I was still ruminating on what had occurred.

*****

Several hours ago, I had been trying to keep my wits about me. I knew that I could not spare a thought as to why I had been incapacitated for over a day. I knew I needed to focus on the Mujulaai Pandit Commission and appear every bit the prince I wanted them to see.

However, the gap between knowing and doing was proving itself to be wide in this case.

My efforts were further hindered by the leader of the commission. He walked behind the procession of people with their great fans, small drums, beaded necklaces, and Mujulaai blue holy garb. When he came up front to address the thrones, I made myself search his features. The middle-aged man was straight-backed, dignified, and bald with thin eyebrows. It seemed as if most of his hair had been reallocated to his enormous gray mustache. One would be hard-pressed to forget such distinguished facial hair and yet, I could not remember seeing it or him before. I was facing a complete stranger who had not given me a second glance thus far.

To make matters worse, the holy man's voice was soft and he favored the traditional Mujulaai manner of address which had him using paragraphs to convey perhaps no more than a single sentence of meaning. As that great mustache of his waggled, panegyrizing the many virtues of Agrabah, Jasmine, the Unassailable Mother Goddess, and who knew what else, I grew more and more lost.

The sultan eventually interceded. I did not catch his exact words, but the effect of them was apparent.

The holy man whose name I still didn't know had, at last, noticed me and the amulet I was wearing. His mouth hung open in thankfully silent surprise. His attention and the attention of everyone in the court were honed in on me.

This was my moment.

I was supposed to say something along the lines of:

I do not believe we have formally met before today. Good Evening...

If things had been going well, I would next say the name and title of the man who held my future in his hands and give him a small bow if his rank was high enough.

Instead, I stood frozen in place.

My amulet lay heavy on my chest.

I could feel it along with my pounding heart, the clothes against my skin, the sweat oozing from my unsteady hands, the way my teeth felt too big for my mouth, the tightness of my shoes, and each and every twitch of my ears and nose.