Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Okay, it's time." Nahri announced. 

Ali glanced up at her and frowned. "Are you sure? This seems entirely too soon."

"Ali. It's time." Nahri stared at him, her eyebrows rising slightly in what she had learned from Subha was an intimidating move that brokered no further arguing. 

Ali sighed and stood up. They were in Nahri's small kitchen, relaxing after having finished their dinner. He picked up the kettle of boiled water and returned to the table. Setting a strainer onto a small teapot, he poured the kettle's contents over it. Damp tea leaves fell into the strainer as a cloud of steam billowed past his face. Once the teapot was filled, he pulled back and set those no-longer-needed items aside. Into two cups he poured the pleasantly smelling tea, steam curling into the air. He pushed one cup over to his companion sitting across from him, and moved the other cup to his side. 

"Nicely done," Nahri said, a satisfied smile on her face. Her gaze turned down to the fabric in her hands and her expression faltered. "Your stitches, however, are not. They're not even going in the same direction. And why are there knots everywhere?"

Ali groaned and leaned back in his chair. "What does it matter? No one is going to notice."

"People will absolutely notice this, Ali. You're in charge of setting up a new government, and with your… marid appearance, people will be paying extra attention to you. You need to look good. Competent." Nahri's eyes softened. "They need to see what I see."

Ali looked at her from under his lashes and tried not to smirk. "That I'm well-formed? "

Nahri blushed and lashed the garment at him as he burst into laughter, raising his arms to block the weaponized sleeves. 

Nahri huffed as she smoothed the garment back onto the table. "This is why I don't compliment you," she growled in mock offense, unable to entirely tamp down her smile. "It goes right to your head."

Ali chuckled and picked up his teacup. "I think you compliment me more than you realize." He blew over the hot liquid and took a sip. "Oh."

Nahri glanced up at him. "Oh good, or oh bad?" 

Ali looked away, seemingly embarrassed to meet her gaze. Nahri grinned sharply. "I was right, wasn't I," she gloated. 

Ali lifted his yellow-dappled eyes to hers and a smile bloomed on his face. "Yes, Nahri, you were right."

Nahri smirked victorious and took a sip from her own cup. "Mmm. Yes, perfect amount of time. See, if you let the leaves sit too long, it burns away all of the flavors." Nahri took another deep sip, then sighed in satisfaction. "This tea blend is too delicious for such misuse."

She glanced up to see Ali still watching her. "What?" she asked with a chuckle. He said nothing, shaking his head lightly. She smirked and pushed the garment across the table. "Take these stitches out and try it again. In one direction, this time. I don't understand how you catch every detail in the tax codes and yet are so lax with these threads."

Ali picked up the stitch remover tool and sighed, a slight smile still on his face. "We're not all doctors, Nahri."

~*~

The next evening, Ali was again at Nahri's home in the shafit district. He sat at the main table, pouring over several scrolls while Nahri relaxed nearby on the divan, reading a book. 

"Ali, you're available in the evenings, correct?" 

Ali looked up from his papers with a thoughtful frown. "Not really… That's when I visit you."

A smile burst across Nahri's face and she scratched her nose to hide it. "I will take that as a yes. Umm Raima is hosting a cooking class, and I signed us up."

Ali stared at her in confusion. "What? Why?" 

Nahri marked her page and closed her book. "Because we need it. Do you not remember how we fared on the Nile, before it all went to hell?" 

Ali paused, the memory of weeks of terrible not-meals drifting back to him because neither of them knew how to cook. He sighed. 

"All right, but things are normal again. We have food stalls, and the palace chefs..."

"We are grown adults, and you're not going to live in the palace forever. We need to learn some basics, Ali."

Ali huffed, before a quiet confusion settled over his expression. Recognizing it, Nahri paused. "What is it?" she asked. 

He glanced over at her. "What do you mean, I won't be living in the palace forever?" 

Nahri's eyebrows popped up in surprise. "I, um. Just mean that, once the new government is more settled, you can live wherever you want." She glanced down, uncharacteristically bashful. "You can choose where you want to stay."

"Oh." Ali watched her for a moment before turning his gaze down at his scrolls, worrying the edge of the paper with his fingers. "I haven't thought that far ahead. With the Citadel gone, I'm not sure where I belong. Or if any of the quarters would even want me there. My… appearance hasn't been that well-received."

"I'm sure there are places that would welcome you," she replied softly. 

He snuck a glance at her and gave a small smile. "That's a reassuring thought."

Nahri cleared her throat and looked up at him, all softness gone. "Anyway. The classes start next week, and you're not getting out of it."

"Are there any other classes you've signed me up for?" Ali asked jokingly. Nahri stared at him with her trademark mask that revealed nothing. He narrowed his eyes. "No. Nahri…" 

She sighed, averting her gaze. "Flower arranging," she muttered. 

Ali's eyes widened. "Did you say flower arranging? Nahri, why would you sign us up for something as useless as--" 

Nahri huffed, grabbing her book fiercely. "Listen, al Qahtani! Flower arranging is very meditative!" 

"I pray five times a day. I don't need to sort flowers to feel meditative."

Nahri frowned at him, her pursed lips twitching as if she were chewing her next words. She growled, leaning back in her seat. "Fine. It was a package deal with the cooking class. Both of which are a favor to Elashia. So if I'm going, you're coming with me. Got it?" 

Ali sighed with a scowl. 

"Besides, you need some non-perilous activities. As your partner and your doctor, it's worrying that all you do is paperwork and evade death. I need you to do something that isn't going to drive us both into an early grave, okay?" 

Ali rolled his eyes. "Why not something I'm interested in, then? Like reading. Reading is not perilous."

Nahri deadpan stared at him. "You unleashed a cursed scroll just last week."

Ali frowned, his gaze flicking upwards in thought. "Wasn't that last month?" 

"No, it just feels like it was because this has been such a long week. In part because of the cursed scroll. That you unleashed. By reading it."

Ali sighed, rubbing his forehead. "And I am sorry. But to be fair, cursed Daeva scrolls should have a warning on them."

Nahri threw her hands into the air. "It did have a warning. But your Divasti wasn't good enough to understand it!"

"Okay, but you do understand how the warning being more complicated than the hex inside is not actually helpful?" Ali asked, matching her exasperation. 

Nahri closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Ali…" 

"Yes?"

"Please do this for me."

"Okay."

Nahri opened one eye to look at him. He was looking back at her, his expression content. His lip quirked upward and he turned back to his scrolls. Nahri exhaled. Settling back into the divan, she picked up her book and returned to her reading. 

"Are we going to have to bring our own flowers?" 

"I have no idea."

Chapter Text

In the quiet twilight of the palace, Nahri opened the door to Ali’s office. Not comfortable using his father's old one, he had repurposed a room closer to the library with large windows that overlooked the canal. A fountain burbled softly by the door, and Ali sat at his desk near the windows, working on something. Light from the setting sun flooded in behind him, casting everything in saffron and purple hues. 

Whatever he was working on, he hadn't noticed that she came in. As she neared the desk, she saw that he was stitching a tear in a waist-wrap.

"Masa el-khayr, Ali. You’re sewing at work?"

He glanced up at her in surprise, his eyes briefly flicking to his lap.

"M-masa el-noor. I, uh-- I had a run-in with a camelopard," he stammered. Nahri approached his side and Ali cried out in panic. "W-wait!"

She turned the corner of his desk in time to see his hands dive to cover his lap. Amidst the faint cloud of mist, lines and ridges of iridescent scales swirled brightly against his dark legs. His… very much uncovered legs...

"Oh," she breathed, her face flooding with heat as she spun around. "That's, uh-- I understand this situation now."

She hesitated awkwardly for a moment before returning to the front of the desk, careful to avoid looking at him. She cleared her throat. "Though it isn't as if I haven't seen you undressed before."

"Did not need the reminder," he muttered, embarrassment heavy in his voice. 

Those silver scales are new however, her mind gossiped before she forcefully pushed that curiosity away. 

Leaning against the edge of his desk, she intentionally kept her back to him. "So, uh, camelopard, huh?" 

Ali peeked a glance up at her before hesitantly returning to his work. "Y-yes. One of the delegates brought it. It, um. Got loose."

"Ah."

They were quiet for a moment, the only sound being the thread pulling through fabric. 

"It went right for you, didn't it."

"Yes it did."

Nahri snuck a glance over her shoulder at him. "And you let it bite you?" 

His dappled yellow eyes flicked up to hers before returning to the fabric with a huff. "The delegates are already afraid of me. I don't need to be using marid magic on their animals to make things worse. I used the leash to restrain it, but I forgot how long their necks stretch." 

Nahri chuckled and then sighed. "Ali…" 

"I know," he replied quietly. 

"It didn't bite you, did it?" 

"No, thank God. Just my clothes."

He pulled the needle through the fabric and then frowned. "Since you're here, could you help me? I can never end this right."

He lifted the fabric up as Nahri twisted around to half-face him. The stitches were spaced unevenly, but the lines were clean. 

"You're improving," she assessed warmly. "To secure it, you need to pull the needle here."

She held the fabric low with one hand and with the other guided Ali's fingers through the stitch. "Then knot it and pull it out here." She demonstrated it, her fingers still brushing his. He watched her quietly as she pulled the needle free on the other side. "Then you cut the thread." She wrapped the excess thread tight around her finger and brought the fabric to her mouth, breaking the thread with her teeth. 

"And that's all that's to it," she said softly, catching Ali's gaze as she licked a frayed thread from her tooth. He looked at her as if frozen for a moment before his gaze bolted for the floor. 

"T-thanks," he swallowed. 

Her gaze dropped to the wide-surfaced desk as she set down the fabric, her skin buzzing. Patterned shadows crept over them while the sun sunk further behind the palace walls, and she realized just how alone they were. 

"I will wait for you outside," she said carefully, sweeping aside more improper thoughts. "Don't forget we have that flower class tonight." 

Ali mumbled in assent, his gaze still averted. Nahri turned and pushed herself away from the desk. The air was tense as she left, their hearts drumming in her ears. She pulled the door closed behind her, though not before seeing Ali smack his forehead onto the tabletop. 

Umm Raima's house in the Sahrayn quarter was spacious and well-suited for the dozen guests that showed up for her class later that evening. Several low tables had been set up in neat rows, with two in the front that were covered with supplies. In the back corner was a large clay oven in the shape of a well that looked promising for tomorrow's cooking class, but tonight was for flowers and there was quite a selection to choose from. Long-stemmed flowers in a variety of shapes, hues, and magical qualities were organized in containers set among beautifully dyed scarves. The large roses that sparkled with small fireworks and the chrysanthemums whose petals shifted in color depending on which angle you viewed it were particularly lovely. There were also baskets of leafy stems and colorfully embroidered ribbon accessories. Enchanted ice floated in the fountains nearby, giving the sweet-smelling room a slightly chilled air.

Nahri pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she and Ali entered. The sky was bright indigo and dotted with stars behind them. She was sure they would be late after sharing an awkward dinner with her grandfather, but there were still a few free tables to choose from. The guests that occupied the other tables, however, paused their conversations to gape at Daevabad’s legendary heroes. Ali adjusted the shoulder strap of his satchel nervously and gave salaam. Nahri glanced at the unfamiliar faces, brought her fingertips together in greeting, and then pulled Ali toward the open table in the back before he could even ask her where she wanted to sit.

As they passed the table of flowers and supplies, she noticed Ali murmur in surprise at them. 

Once at their table, Nahri settled into a cushion as Ali removed his satchel, setting it beside him. Like the other guests' tables, it was prepared with beautifully etched glass vases and a pair of small shears. Nahri pulled her supplies closer and listened to the chatter of the other djinn. 

Soon the final guests arrived and the teacher called the class to order. Umm Raima was a large, smiling woman, wearing colorful robes and a shimmering navy chador. Her overly-friendly exterior did a fine job of hiding her nervousness, as long as she didn't touch anything as it would immediately be knocked over. She explained the supplies on the table and quickly demonstrated putting together an arrangement, only dropping the flowers three times. She made a bouquet of ebony lilies and a few firework-creating roses with a matching gold ribbon, and it was beautiful to see the colorful fireworks sparkling against the dark petals. She smiled bashfully at the students and then motioned to the tables. It was time to gather supplies. 

Nahri began to stand when Ali suddenly lifted his satchel and overturned it, spilling its contents onto the table. Cut flowers and leaves toppled across the surface, drawing the curious gazes of their neighbors. 

Nahri froze, her eyes darting between the other djinn and the mess of flowers on the table. She quickly sat back down as Ali began sorting them. "You-- Ali, you brought flowers?" 

He glanced at her and gave a slight shrug. "I wasn't sure what to expect, so I picked some during my lunch break. No reason to let them go to waste now."

She watched him with a small frown. The flowers had been cut at different lengths; some with long stems while others were barely more than the flower's face. Red crystal waterlilies, white morning glories, and starry night petunias were among the cuttings, but most were purple irises. She picked one up, spinning the stem between her fingers. To her surprise, it was cold. 

"I tried to get enough for both of us," Ali said as he lined up a pile of dark striped-green leafy stems. "The sisters said flowers last longer when chilled, so I kept them in my office fountain." He glanced at Nahri, noting her expression was less than thrilled. "Are they not okay?" 

Nahri pursed her lips, feeling the gazes of the others in the room. "They are, but I will get some from the front so we don't offend our host," she whispered. Ali's eyes widened at that realization, and he swiftly nodded. Nahri rose to her feet and headed to the supply table, pausing to exchange greetings with the guests as they addressed her. 

When she returned with a handful of flowers, leaves, and decorations, Ali was well into his project. Although he wore an expression of focused thought, he seemed to be just sticking flowers into the provided vase at random.

Nahri focused on hers. She was not what she thought most people would consider artistic, but she decided the arrangement might be like putting together an outfit. And like any good outfit, it needed gold. So she focused on the varying shades of orange and yellow flowers, with a skirt of small dark leaves. She also grabbed some of the purple irises Ali had brought, sticking them between the golden hued petals and somehow making the whole arrangement look more radiant. Then she realized it was radiant, because the sun-colored flowers were actually shimmering with tiny bursts of light. Finishing with a red-patterned ribbon tied around the vase, she smiled proudly at it.

Now that she was done, she glanced at Ali's creation. It was… Something. It looked like he had stuck as many of the purple iris into the vase as he could, creating a rather chaotic effect. The red crystal waterlilies stood out like lanterns, in addition to stabbing their delicate neighbors with their sharp-edged petals. Meanwhile the starry night petunias were partially lost inside the funnels of leaves and stems, looking somewhat ominous as the star-like pattern shifted against their indigo petals. The too-short morning glories had been wedged periodically between stems, like little white trumpets that only added to the clutter.

She took in Ali's expression, the one he often wore when focused on a particularly challenging contract, and fought to frame her words kindly. 

"Looks like you've put a lot of effort into this," she commented carefully. "How is it going?" 

"I think I am almost done," Ali said, twisted a leaf so it wouldn't cover one of the flower faces. It creased sharply, a dark line appearing where he had pinched it. Which only brought attention to the several other scratches on the leaf.

Ali sat back and turned to Nahri. "What do you think?" His eyebrows popped up with his smile. 

Nahri took in his expression with a hesitant smile before her eyes slid back to his… creation. Now that she was really looking at it, there was damage everywhere. Several of the flowers were chipped or bruised, and many of the leaves were scratched and scuffed. Storing them all together in his satchel probably wasn't the safest ride for them, but the amount of marks hinted that some of them were like this when he picked them. Nahri cleared her throat.

"Looks like you used almost everything you brought."

"Yes. Well, I shared some of the flowers with the couple behind us, but otherwise I didn't want them to go to waste."

"Hm. But some of these flowers are damaged. Why don't you replace them with better ones?" she suggested gently.

Ali's face screwed up. "Why would I do that? These ones are still good." He leaned in close and sniffed deeply. "Still smell nice, too."

Nahri frowned dismissively. "Flower arrangements are supposed to look pretty, Ali. It's all about showing off the best. No one wants to look at a bunch of battered plants."

"Then they are missing out," he scowled. "I'm not throwing flowers away because of something as trivial as that. God doesn't abandon us because of our blemishes. Why would I toss out flowers because of theirs?"

Nahri went still. Absentmindedly her fingers brushed the inside of her wrist, the skin scarred and uneven. She took a slow breath.

Ali glanced at her then looked again, concern replacing his indignation. "Did I say something wrong?" 

She lightly shook her head. "No, my friend. You did not." Swallowing, she turned her gaze back to the flowers. "If you are pleased with it, then that's all that matters." 

He took in his creation again and smiled. "I am."

He looked at Nahri's project, his smile growing wider. "And yours is beautiful," he enthused. He pushed his vase closer to hers and somehow the artful golden look of her arrangement balanced the hectic purple arrangement of his, as if they had representations of night and day side-by-side.

Nahri grinned, taking in the sight. Her eyes slid to Ali's, who was smiling back at her. "I think we did good," she whispered as Ali leaned in to smell the flowers again.

"I agree."

~*~

Umm Raima's cooking class was the following night, and Nahri made sure to remind Ali beforehand that he did not need to bring his own ingredients. 

"I see your advice does not apply to you," Ali whispered as they sat at their table. He was eyeing Nahri's bag, where a few green leafs poked out. Nahri quickly shushed him, then pushed the escaping herbs further into her bag. 

"If we're going to be cooking, I may as well use my own herbs and spices," she whispered back. Her voice growing softer, she added, "Grandfather prepared these." 

Ali smiled. "Then they will be a delicious addition." 

The cooking class atmosphere was noticeably more relaxed this evening, and Umm Raima excitedly buzzed about, setting a handwritten copy of her flatbread recipe on every occupied table. The tables had also been set with bowls, spoons, and small sacks filled with ingredients. 

When the last djinn arrived, class began. And this time, the class could follow along with Umm Raima as she instructed how to make the dough. 

Nahri and Ali divided up the ingredients and tasks so they could both participate in the process. But as they were sitting in the back row, it was occasionally difficult to tell which sized bowl or spoon Umm Raima was using to measure her dry and wet ingredients. Teaspoon this, tablespoon that… unfamiliar terminology for Daevabad's heroes, so with a small huff Nahri set down her spoon and turned to Ali. 

"I've seen Grandfather cook, and he measures this sort of stuff with his knuckles. Let's just do that."

Ali blinked at her in concern. "But… all of these ingredients require different amounts."

"It'll be fine. It's all about maintaining the ratio. That's math. This should be right up your alley." Nahri nodded at him and restarted measuring the wheat flour and yeast. 

He frowned, but he had no argument to counter it. The closest he came to cooking was preparing coffee and tea, and that one recipe involving ground locust and oryx blood. By now they were several steps behind the rest of the class. With a sigh he reached for the handwritten recipe. Reading through it, he started measuring out the ingredients in a small bowl using his knuckles as a guide. 

The time passed well, Nahri and Ali moving in concert as they measured and added their ingredients to a central bowl. And at one point, Ali acted as look-out as Nahri brought out her leafy herbs and dried cardamom and crushed them into the bowl.

Ali was measuring out his final ingredient when Nahri gasped and quietly exclaimed, "That's too much!" 

He looked up at her in confusion to see that she was staring at his hands. 

"Ali, we're measuring with our knuckles," she reminded. 

"Yeah, knuckles," Ali said, pointing to the protruding joint at the base of his finger.

"No, knuckles!" Nahri said back, pointing at the mid-way joint on her finger.

They stared at each other for a moment before they both glanced down at the mixing bowl. 

"Oh," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. Nahri made a worried hum at the back of her throat as she frowned.

Sighing, she ran a dusty hand over the brocaded edge of her scarf. "It's fine. I will just double my ingredients."

She did so. As Ali watched with an apologetic frown, one of their table neighbors to the right cleared her throat. Ali looked over to see the young Geziri woman had stepped closer. 

"I'm-- Humblest apologies, my prince, but could we borrow your salt? We had a little spill, and…" she gestured to her tablemate who resembled her so strongly they must have been sisters. The younger girl was kneeling on the floor scooping up the spilled salt into a pile, her face red and quietly grumbling, 'I can't believe you asked him.'

Ali smiled and met the other woman's eyes. "Of course, sister."

He reached for a bag on the table. The Geziri woman, however, reached for a different bag on the table. Ali looked up in surprise. 

"Oh, that's the sugar," Ali corrected.

The woman dipped the end of her pinky into the bag's contents and tasted it. "No, no, this is the salt. Thank you for your generosity, my prince!"

She turned back to her table as Ali stared after her, breath frozen in his throat. His gaze crawled back toward the mixing bowl that Nahri was stirring.

"Nahri," he whispered after he recovered. "Nahri, there's another problem."

Nahri stared at him blankly as he hesitantly explained the mix-up. Then she looked at their table. They had already used up most of their ingredients, now that they had to double the recipe in a way. The ingredient mix-up only furthered her quiet concern about their measuring choices, especially since their bowl was filled much higher than everyone else's. 

"Maybe we should run," she suggested softly, meeting his eyes. He pursed his lips to muffle a laugh.

"Maybe we should have taken lessons with your grandfather first," he whispered back.

Nahri chuckled and exhaled slowly. "Let's just get through this."

They took turns kneading the dough, which was more fun than either of them had expected. Ali grinned when it was his turn, commenting about how squishy the dough was. The next step was to cover it and let it rest, which left Nahri snickering. Ali gave her a curious look.

"It rests, and then it goes," she said mirthfully as she met his eyes. "Perhaps you learned how to sail from bread bakers back when we were in Cairo?"

Ali chuckled. "Perhaps then there's some sailing lesson we could apply to our cooking."

Nahri smirked. "It couldn't hurt at this rate."

They spent their rest-time tidying up their table and sharing stories. When they uncovered their dough, they were surprised at how big it had grown. Almost twice the size of the other djinns' dough. Nahri grimaced, then split the dough in half. 

"We'll each get a loaf. This is fine," she said, mostly to herself. Ali agreed, unconvinced. 

After one more round of kneading the dough, they then flattened it down into a thick oval. The last step was to magically mark the dough with their names, which Nahri did for them both. 

At the cylindrical oven that was partially dug into the ground, Umm Raima slapped the flattened dough onto the oven's inner walls with a large cushion. The dough stuck to the walls, much to everyone's delight. Nahri and Ali's dough sagged a bit under its own weight, but still held. 

On the way back to their table, Ali's hand brushed Nahri's. But once they sat down, she frowned with a sudden thought.

"Let me see your hand," she asked urgently, reaching for it before he could answer. Trying to hide her action from the view of others, she lined up her palm with his. Ali flustered, glancing between her and the room.

"What is it?" he whispered.

Nahri's brows furrowed. Her fingers were a third shorter than his.

"Our measurements were really off," she whispered back grimly.

"It will probably be fine," he assured, his fingers slipping between hers. "We will just grab it and run before anyone asks to have some."

She glanced up at him and he smiled. She smirked back and gave his hand a light squeeze before letting go.

"All right. Be ready to make a quick escape."

They spent the short baking time cleaning up their table then chatting with the other guests. Nahri fielded questions about taking care of a shedu, while Ali tried to answer what the marid were like. It was actually pretty pleasant, until Umm Raima shouted from her place by the oven. Everyone quickly joined her, Ali and Nahri at the front of the pack to see what the commotion was.

It was not good. 

Inside the tannour oven was a monstrous, throbbing web of half-baked dough. Its tendrils stretched out along the walls and across the oven, catching fire where it crossed the middle or fell to the bottom. The dough baking beside it had been smothered entirely, while those just out of reach were flecked with burning ashes that gleamed from too much salt. Worse, the fire-scrawled Arabic letters spelling Nahri and Ali glowed brightly over two of the masses, proving without a doubt who this monster dough belonged to.

"Suleiman's eye..." Nahri exhaled in shock and embarrassment. “I-I didn’t know bread could do that.”

"I am so sorry," Ali apologized, exchanging horrified glances with their host and the other guests. "We measured it wrong, and..."

“I added too much yeast,” Nahri added, stepping closer to them. “This is my fault.”

"It's okay, Banu Nahida, Your Highness," Umm Raima reassured. "Maybe we can--"

With a startling blarp, the monstrous dough with a mind of its own popped an air bubble, causing the djinn and shafit to take a collective step back. Raw dough spilled over the tannour's edge, running down the side and pooling on the floor in a partially on-fire mess. Nahri covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking. Ali squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before turning to Umm Raima with his hand over his heart.

"I am so, so sorry. We will clean this up."

Umm Raima glanced at them and the mess before heaving a sigh. "Yes, thank you. I suppose class is dismissed," she said glancing to the other guests. "We will try again next week along with a sauce. I hope to see you all then."

She glanced back at Nahri and Ali for a moment with the look of "But not you two," and then said with a sigh, "I will go find a bucket."

When the room cleared out, Ali glanced back at Nahri. He placed a hand on her still-shaking shoulder. But just as he was about to comfort her, she lifted her hands from her face with cackling laughter until it echoed over the room.

"This went spectacularly wrong," she gasped, looking up at Ali.

"I don't think we're wanted back," he whispered, starting laugh himself.

Nahri rubbed her face again, trying swallow back her own laughter. "By the Most High..." 

With the aid of Umm Raima’s bucket and other cleaning tools, they stayed late to clean up. Nahri set the monstrous dough on fire to effectively kill it, while Ali used water and his abilities to collect the ash and debris into a slurry that he then directed into the bucket to be tossed outside. From there it was just scrubbing the bits that they missed, Nahri sitting inside the oven and Ali cleaning the outside. It was tough work, the charred, gooey dough stubbornly clinging to the cracks and grooves of the oven walls and stone flooring.

"I can't believe our bread went down in flames like our boat," Nahri chuckled, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Ali's laughter rang out warmly, slightly muffled from the thick oven walls.

"I guess it shouldn't be surprising, with our luck," he said, before returning to scrubbing. The bristles made a steady sweeping rhythm against the stone floor before it paused for a loud whoosh of air as he blew out the debris.

Nahri exhaled, leaning against the oven wall. She glanced up, looking through the circular opening to see the marble and glass ceiling. Small globes of fire floated in the air, casting off flickering light that reflected on the gleaming surfaces.

"Although unlike our boat, this was entirely our own fault," Ali continued with a chuckle. His face suddenly appeared over the oven's opening, startling Nahri. "Do you think this was another effect of that cursed scroll I read?"

Nahri's lip quirked. "Absolutely, let's blame it on that."

Ali chuckled again and moved away. Nahri took a deep breath and picked up her brush.

Well love, cursed or not, I'm glad to get through it with you.

Ali's face appeared over the oven entrance again. "Did you say something?"

Nahri's eyes flew open with the sudden fear of 'Did I say something??' and then quickly regained her composure and stood up.

"Yes," she said, looking up at Ali who stood another foot taller than her than usual. She raised her arms, her hands just barely holding his shoulders. "Get me out of here."

Ali grinned, then with hands firmly on her waist, lifted her out.

The next evening they attempted the bread recipe again, this time with the proper measurements after discussing it with Nahri’s grandfather. They also included the herbs and spices they thought would make it extra delicious. Then they shared their finished bread with Grandfather to taste. 

Nahri and Ali sat across from him at the kitchen table, watching with expectant eyes as he carefully chewed their creation. 

He met their gazes, then his eyes shifted suddenly to something behind them, concerned confusion taking over his expression. Nahri and Ali immediately looked behind them, and in their distraction he spit out the food into a waiting napkin. 

When they turned back to him, he swallowed with a smile and a hum of satisfaction. 

"What do you think?" Ali asked while Nahri watched with slight suspicion in her eyes. 

"I think I love my granddaughter very much," the elderly shafit said graciously. 

Nahri lifted an eyebrow. "But…" 

Grandfather bit back a smile. "But you have not inherited my cooking skills."