The princess, the commoner and the sorcerer

[the princess]

This was her chance. She could feel it, pulsing through her lungs and increasing her heartbeat. Slowly, she slid the dagger out of its hiding place. And she closed her eyes to ready herself. The memory was still clear as day.
Though at the time she would chalk it up to pure admiration and jealousy, Ananya had always been fascinated by her defense teacher, Indali. Ruthless, precise and downright intimidating, she shared a passion for the art unequaled to anyone, especially when teaching women. And though the palace guards were more than competent, the anxious Sultan still insisted she know how to defend herself. The first time she had met her, Indali had looked the princess up and down and declared, "I'll make the finest warrior out of her or so behead me in front of the entire kingdom." That promise became true, yet it had required much of the princess. Months of grueling exercise, tough on the mind, the heart and the body. Nightly, she would stagger back to her quarters so exhausted she would feel her way back. It came to be one time that after yet another ground of her on the ground that Indali had instilled her wisdom, "You strike too early or too late. In the beginning you feared hurting me and struck too late. Now, you are determined to defeat me and strike too early. Wait for the right chance. Defend until it is most opportune to offend. Feel it in your head and your body. You will always know when it is the right moment." Those words carried Ananya to this day, and she became a better fighter, a better person because of it.

When she opened her eyes, it was to the sorcerer threatening the jinn, his staff aimed at the commoner. Her eyes filled with fire, she charged and stabbed the advisor in the side!

[the commoner]

The advisor roared in fury. But the princess had already stolen his staff. The shackles around his wrists and ankles snapped and he stood up, celebrating the newfound freedom. The jinn watched, mouthing words of love to him. But the sorcerer was already getting to his feet. Though it had been a deadly wound, he had used his magic to heal it. "Enough!" he bellowed, clutching his side. "No one ever listened to me as an advisor and yet you still will not obey a sorcerer! But that will not last long, for you will bow before a Sultan!" And he flung his arm out toward the jinn as he rubbed the lamp. "Jinn! For my second wish, I wish to be the Sultan of Surasena!" And with a look of horror, the jinn squeezed his eyes shut as his hands produced blue smoke, engulfing the man. When he emerged, he was clothed in the robes of a Sultan, though, unlike the vivid red symbolizing luck of the princess's father, his were a deep sinister black. But his transformation triggered something in Imaran's mind, something he hadn't though of until now. "Why?!" he shouted angrily. "Why now? If all you wanted was power, why not be Sultan first?" The princess started to laugh, and the commoner looked at her in astonishment. At a time like this, why did she laugh? And then it dawned on him. It all made sense. And as he opened his mouth to voice the words, the princess finished for him. "Because he was never a good sorcerer."

[the sorcerer]

The sorcerer froze, his tirade momentarily paused, for he was in utter shock. The princess had discovered his secret. How long had she known? But the memories came flooding back, and he forgot the prisoners.
The beginning of his training had been toughest, with every failed attempt driving him closer and closer to the edge. At one point, he thought of giving it all up, until the day he made a match fly, wobbling, into his hands. His spellwork was shoddy, and his potions rarely worked, but the idea that he could perform magic made him deny that he was, in truth, a terrible sorcerer. Though he ought to have gotten a real teacher, he feared doing so, feared they would tell him he was awful. On the night of the commoner's arrest, his spell had drained nearly all his magical energy and in order to use magic again he would need to practice and practice. For days, he practiced the spell that would grant him safety from the thugs, all the while longing for the lamp, which would bring him infinite power. 

With a gasp, he willed himself back to reality, to the prisoners, who, at any second could charge and destroy any chances of power. The commoner boy lunged towards him, but was far too late. The prisoners were encircled in a grayish light, forced to kneel before him. "Now look at this," he cackled. "The princess and the Sultan bowing before me. Oh, my dear Princess Ananya, how the tables have turned. And in my favor." He leered towards them, the staff glinting his hand.