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Quote by Alexandra Monir

“The sultan had proven himself on the battlefield back when he was crown prince he'd earned the people's love and reverence before he'd ever taken the throne. Meanwhile, as much as Jasmine had longed to leave the palace gates, in all her eighteen years she'd barely been allowed outside. The comparisons were inevitable, and yet impossible for her to match. I'll have to find my own way, Jasmine realized as she gazed out the crowd. To turn my differences into strengths and prove myself a true leader. Maybe she too could be a diamond in the rough.”

Quote by Alexandra Monir

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Realm of Wonders

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Alexandra Monir

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“Aladdin may be a part of your... personal life, but he is no statesman. If you want to be taken seriously by the ministers who run your government, you would do well to separate your young romance from your role as our country's leader." His voice dripped with condescension. Jasmine felt a flash of fury. "And you would do well to remember to whom you are speaking," she said, lifting her chin to meet his gaze. "This isn't just some 'youthful romance,' as you call it. Aladdin is my intended husband. The future consort to your sultana. Speak of him with respect.”

“Baba used to tell me that there are many ways to lead," she said, remembering the words he shared with her. "Some people are strong in their physical being, others mentally, but he would say that a battle is never won on the front lines alone. It's won through hearts and minds, through commitment and strategy. As my father's daughter, I know I have what it takes within me." She stood straighter, gaining confidence. "Besides, isn't the purpose of the royal council to fill in the gaps, to balance the monarch's strengths and weaknesses? If I didn't need help defending Agrabah, then wouldn't that mean I didn't need... you?”

“She dove to the foot of the bed, dodging for the knife just before it sliced through her curtains. Rajah leaped up off the floor, roaring in fury as he tore toward the intruder, giving Jasmine a moment to slide off the edge of the bed. Her feet hit the carpet and she readied her fists, ill-equipped but determined to fight back. Whatever monster belonged to this shadow... she wouldn't let it take her.”

“I must have forgotten how young you would be, Princess. Has there ever been a sovereign of such tender age?" Jasmine paused. He might have been simply making idle conversation, or maybe this was his way of paying her a compliment, but she had a feeling it was something else. He was sizing her up, and he didn't see a leader. "Perhaps you also forgot the boy king of Egypt," she said, keeping her tone sweet as honey. "I am eighteen--- ten years older than Tutankhamun was." "Ah, yes. Of course.”

“But no matter what they did, the sultan always used their time together to share with her the business of running the kingdom, the rewards and judgements he'd handed down during the week. It occurred to Jasmine now, as she awoke on her first Friday without him, that he had been preparing her. Every time he'd told her the reasons for one decision or another, whether he'd said yes or no to a subject's plea, he was giving Jasmine a road map to follow when it was her turn to rule. He believed I could do it. And if he believed... then so do I.”

“Outside the closed doors to the throne room, Sharif the high elder waited, holding a kaftan robe of red silk and velvet in one hand and a long spear nearly twice his height in the other. Jasmine's heart beat faster as she recognized the gold trim and signature jewels lining the robe, the ancient craftsmanship of the spear. These had belonged to Cyrus the Great, the first ruler of the empire. And in mere moments, she would be the first woman to feel them against her skin. Nadia untied Jasmine's peacock cape while the high elder held out the red robe. "Today you shed the persona of Jasmine, the princess," he said, "and step into the skin of a sultana." Jasmine took a deep breath, slipping her arms into the preserved silk. The material was more fragile than anything she'd worn before, and she was conscious that one wrong step, one tear of the fabric, would be rip through history. Yet she felt stronger in the cape too, as though Cyrus were transferring his power through it to her. When Sharif handed her Cyrus's spear, she could barely contain her awe.”

“Jasmine dressed carefully the next morning, choosing her clothes like they were her armor. She paired a regal purple waistcoat and blouse with matching wide-legged trousers gathered at the ankle and bordered in gold thread, while Nadia dressed her hair with a diamond-studded tiara inherited from Jasmine's mother. As she surveyed herself in front of the mirror, the ensemble had just the effect she'd hoped for. There was nothing delicate about Princess Jasmine today. She looked the picture of power. Now it was time for her to claim it.”