33 - Jafar
J afar found himself on the rooftop terrace again. Below, the reflecting pool shimmered under the early light. A black cat lapped at the turquoise waters, darting into the bushes when a pair of attendants walked past.
Beneath his burning anger, Jafar felt a deep and aching loneliness in the pit of his stomach, the rest of his emotions a blistering storm around it.
“I thought you’d be a lot happier to have those in hand,” Iago said.
He spoke of the rubies.
Jafar rolled them over in his palm. Over a decade since he’d heard the story from Mama, since he’d snuck into her room and read all that he could about them, and they were finally his. He’d never seen anything like them, and Baba had owned a fair share of jewels. These were brilliant, clear crimson, faceted in a way that mesmerized and pulled him closer. Possessed him, almost.
“Can they really control someone?”
“Indeed,” Jafar said, closing his fist around them. He had what he wanted now: the ability to control those around him, after years of having every inch of his life controlled by another.
But it was also a feat he could have easily accomplished as prince. A thought that quickly diminished the value of the rubies he’d traversed all this way to retrieve.
“You know, if you really want that crown, you could use them to get the Sultana to change her mind,” Iago suggested.
Jafar laughed sadly. “Why are you always trying to help me?”
No one else ever did—Rohan would at times, yes, but there was always a limit with him. Help was never offered so adamantly, so selflessly.
“You got me the answers I wanted,” Iago said.
“You’ve been helping me longer,” Jafar countered.
Iago tilted his head, considering his reply. “I want you to succeed, I suppose. I know I didn’t live with you all that long, but the time I spent on that pedestal in your baba’s room was long enough. I know what it’s like to have your worth trashed, to have no control over your life. I’ve eaten a lot of crackers, you know.”
“I promise you’ll never have to eat crackers,” Jafar said, and then pursed his lips. “Unless it’s for a cause.”
“What kind of cause requires eating crackers?” Iago asked, squinting an eye at him.
“You never know,” Jafar replied.
Iago hmm ed. “We’ll revisit that one. Oh, heads up. Oh, wow .”
Jafar felt her presence before he saw her. Moon girl. Boisterous girl. He’d never seen her outside, under the sky. Even the sun brightened, its rays grasping for her bronzed skin. She was dressed in pure white, and when she tilted her head, he saw a dusting of freckles over her nose.
“Do we know her?” Iago asked, voice hushed.
“Yes and no,” Jafar replied.
Iago muttered something under his breath.
“Every time I see you, you’re a little sadder,” the girl said in that voice of silk. He wanted to close the distance between them, to shut his eyes and let her voice take him away.
“Play another round with me,” Jafar said. He sounded desperate, even to his own ears.
She considered him with a tilt of her head so like Iago, he almost laughed.
“Always,” she said, softening.
He contemplated his words. “I—I’m sometimes called Jafar.”
Her lips curved in a one-sided smile, but it looked sad. “I’m sometimes called Yara.”
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Yara,” Jafar said, dipping his head in respect. He flicked his gaze up, crashing dangerously into hers like flint.
“You shouldn’t look me in the eye like that,” she whispered.
Her gaze was on his mouth; her breathing was a little louder than it had been seconds before. If he listened closely, he could hear her heartbeat beneath the hum of the city, quickening with his own.
“Oh?” he asked in the same whisper. “Am I in the presence of a princess?”
Her breath caught, and Jafar had a horrible, horrible thought. He did not allow himself to think it.
“Well?” he asked. “Why not?”
“Because,” she replied, stepping closer with a boldness he was not expecting. “It makes me want to do catastrophic things.”
“Nothing is stopping you,” Jafar said. There was a rasp in his voice and something abrading in his chest that threatened to claw out of him. He saw the same war in her, the same need .
“Everything is,” she said with a humorless laugh.
She sounded terribly, tragically sad, and Jafar wanted to know why.
A horse protested in the stables beyond the gardens, drawing their attention. Sand stirred clouds of gold everywhere Jafar looked.
Yara turned to him, eyes wide with an idea. “We should go to the bazaar. Just the two of us, and your beautiful bird.” Jafar started to object. “ Now , before someone notices that we’re missing.”
Jafar didn’t have the heart to tell her no one would.