FORTY-FOUR
Philemon took a deep breath as he surveyed the Sultan's audience chamber. He knew this was just a formality, for the Sultan's matchmaker had agreed to the marriage long before he turned frog, but that didn't stop his heart from leaping into his throat in fear if something went wrong.
But it would not. He was a prince – a true prince, unlike Aladdin – and a fitting husband for any princess. Or so he told himself.
A commotion at the gate told him Aladdin's servants had arrived, with his gift. The crowd parted, waves of an ancient sea at the command of a prophet. Or a prince.
"A gift to the Sultan from His Royal Highness, Prince Philemon of Tasnim!" the door guardian djinn – Kaveh – roared, his voice perfectly pitched to resonate through the hall.
Not for the first time, P
