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It is like this: the night is bright, stars and moon twinkling in the deep blue sky, shining in their full glory without the blanket of Daevabad’s magical barrier to dim their light, the sounds of the river against the boat’s hull sounds like music to Ali’s ears, and he can feel the steady rhythm of the currents and waves leading them to Ta Ntry. Ali inhales deeply, the dark scent of the night filling his lungs, and he watches as the unfamiliar shores of Egypt pass them by quickly, without giving their small boat any mind.
He hopes the rest of their journey will go smoothly and without any more incidents, but he knows he’s being naïve to do so. If there’s anything that has accompanied Ali throughout his adult life is his terrible timing – and what is bad luck, he muses bitterly, if not the purest demonstration of the worst possible timing? Ali rubs the sleep out of his eyes and shivers at the cold Nile air; he hears movement behind him and turns towards the sound and watches as Nahri seems to shift in her sleep. He’s to wake her soon for her guarding shift, but he’s not sure if he has it in him to disturb her rest.
She looks so peaceful. Her beautiful face is not scrunched in worry about their future, nor wearing the cold impartial mask of Daevabad’s future queen – asleep, she looks like the young woman he’s seen more of in Cairo. The confident and merciless negotiator, that treated Yaqub with respect and teasing affection, who made sure Ali himself recovered and that was so full with compassion that rushed to help that poor human boy that fell from the roof – all this without any magic.
Ali suddenly becomes aware that he is staring at Nahri – something that he catches himself doing more and more frequently, lately – and his cheeks inevitably warm when he realizes what he’s doing. He looks away from her and grabs one of the cushions they brought to sit down. Ali has been standing for a good portion of the night, and getting off his feet feels good, his legs tingling from being upright for so long. He absently wonders how it would feel to dip his toes into the Nile water when Nahri stirs, her legs moving forcefully, shaking the boat gently and kicking her blanket away from her sleeping figure. Ali frowns and makes to go to her, at least to make sure she stays protected from the cold night, when she whimpers.
He freezes. Nahri does not seem to wake, and her face is no longer peaceful – she’s scowling, brow furrowed, hands in fists. Her breathing quickens for a couple of heartbeats, her uneasiness echoing like ripples through the night, and Ali’s heart aches sharply at the sight. The ring inside his chest seems to answer to its Nahid’s distress, and not for the first time Ali wonders if the ring yearns for Nahri because Ali yearns foolishly for his brilliantly smart and resourceful Banu Nahida. In the second that follows, he decides to not simply seat here as Nahri is clearly in distress and goes to her.
After all, he knows very well how it is to be plagued by nightmares and being at the mercy of his own cruel memories and past experiences. He knows nobody should endure it alone, least of all Nahri, that is always doing what she can to help others. Ali remembers when he used to jolt awake in sudden anguish soon after he first arrived in Bir Nabat; he also remembers that Lubayd’s presence helped soothe some of the night terrors. His heart breaking again, but now for a completely different reason, he gathers the courage necessary to come closer to Nahri, tucking her in in her blanket gently, watching her face for anything distressful.
Nahri struggles against the fabric, her black curls coming out of her braid as she stirs, but she’s not violent, merely agitated. Ali sits by her side, slowly and quietly, unsure of what to do as Nahri’s breathing hitches for a second, but she still doesn’t awake. Ali is starting to worry – Nahri’s face is being obscured by her hair and he cannot see her properly to know whether he should wake her.
Fingers trembling, and without the energy to pretend he doesn’t know exactly why they are doing so, Ali brushes Nahri’s ebony hair from her face, his fingertips gently grazing her forehead. Ali’s heartbeat resounds powerfully against his ears, and Nahri’s breathing eases, her brows unfurrowing, and everything seems to still for a moment. Ali does not risk making any sort of movement, afraid anything he’ll do will either wake her up or bring the nightmares back, but soon enough Nahri’s hands relax, and she settles once more, mouth slightly askew in one corner.
It’s only then that Ali sits down, laying at her side, deciding here and now that he won’t be waking her up. They have been through so much, in these last weeks – but Nahri has had decidedly less time to rest than he did. Let her have a couple hours more, to see if she can chase her terrors away and dream of separating every dishonest merchant in Cairo from their coin.
The boat is small and narrow – Ali wishes there was more space (or rather, any space) between them, as he can feel the press of Nahri’s arm against his own. Even though there are three layers of fabric between their skins, he can still feel it burn, the warmth climbing his arms and resting in his cheeks. Ali sighs, because blushing around Nahri has become second nature by now and there’s nothing he can do to mitigate it: clearly she doesn’t even have to be awake for his blood to decide it better pool on his cheeks.
And then, a couple of different things happen: a cloud goes over the moon, casting shadows on the small ship’s deck, Ali finally allows himself to relax, folding one of his arms behind his head and using it as a pillow, and Nahri exhales so deeply she seems to deflate by Ali’s side. He chuckles as she rubs one of her cheeks against the bag she is using as headrest, and what she does next sends gooseflesh all down his arms: Nahri rests her head on his shoulder, her hair so close to his face he can still smell the sun in it, and sighs contently, drifting into deeper sleep soon after.
He wants to touch her, to put a rebellious lock of hair behind her ear, but he doesn’t dare. This – her trust in him, the silence of the night, the beating of his heart, the quiet sounds of her breathing – all of this feels so fragile that all Ali can do is hold his breath and commit this night to memory.
Maybe that will be enough.