The breeze brushed his skin with all the care of an artist taking paint to a canvas. It was a cool respite from the blazing summer sun, which beat down on his face without mercy. The sooner he got back into the shade of the palace, the better.

Kassim knew that the longer he stayed up on the roof, the more the sweat would thicken around the edges of his turban, but it would all be worth it if he could steal a few moments to breathe. Sitting on the raised stone ledge, he savored the fresh air. Even with the heat, it was a welcome relief from the suffocating council room.

"After close to two years," he said to his quiet companion, "you'd think this would get easier."

Omar eased himself out of the large cage fixed a few feet away, careful not to disturb any of the pigeons inside. In his hands, he cradled a particularly small bird. "Has it gotten any easier? Even the least little bit?"

"Well, I mean, yeah," Kassim had to admit as he fiddled with a loose feather he'd mindlessly snatched off the ground. "It's easy because I know the proceedings like the back of my hand by now. I know what to do, but the hard part is when I have to do it. I don't know how Al and Jasmine can stand it. Greeting all those courtiers from here or there every time there's a visiting entourage. 'It's good to see you,' and 'Your palace is perhaps the most grand piece of architecture I've ever laid eyes upon,' and 'Your presence is such a relief during these trying times…' It's all so fake, it makes me sick."

Sitting down beside Kassim, Omar placed the bird in his lap and began bandaging its wing. The poor creature had come back from its last homing journey more than a little worse for wear, though the message tied to its ankle had remained intact.

"Sorry." Kassim blew out a breath. "I didn't come up here to lay that all on you."

"I don't mind," Omar said with a small smile. "But… why did you come up, then? To check on Amira?"

"Sorry, no," Kassim chuckled. "Not that I don't care, I just… forgot she was injured. I definitely hope she gets well soon, though, and all that. No, I came up here to breathe, mostly. To take a moment before the courtiers and dignitaries from Tcircacia arrive."

"Do you think they'll be able to help?" Omar's question was soft, but it felt to Kassim like it carried the weight of the entire kingdom.

"I hope so," Kassim replied truthfully, heaving a sigh and letting his feather float down over the side of the roof. "I'm not sure what we'll all do if they don't. That's part of the problem, I think. Every time important negotiations like this come up or heavy politics get involved in the situation, I think, what if I mess it all up? Especially in circumstances like these. When the entire kingdom's welfare and livelihood is on the line, that doesn't leave much room for error…" He took a deep breath, not letting his shoulders succumb to an impending slump of defeat. "It's worse now that the sultan's passed on. Every little decision seems more dire because it's completely on Aladdin and Jasmine."

They took a moment of silence in respect for Jasmine's father, whose passing of only five months ago still hung heavy on the kingdom.

"Aladdin is the sultan," Omar reminded.

"You know what I meant. He's the sultan, but he still doesn't feel like the sultan sultan, you know? He just feels like… Al. I guess that mentality will just take a while to set in."

"I'm sure he's trying his best."

"Oh, he is. I don't doubt that. We're all trying, it's just… I don't know." Kassmin blew out a breath and shook his head. "Sometimes, I don't think I was meant for this life."

"Maybe not." Omar shrugged after a minute or two. "Maybe none of us were, but we're all here now. I guess all we can do is figure out how to use our power to help others, like we would've wanted someone powerful to do when it was us out there." Kassim followed his friend's gaze to the people milling about the streets below. "When you know what it's like to starve on the streets, how can you not do everything you possibly can to help them? Especially when they're suffering like they are now."

Kassim pursed his lips. The drought that had plagued Agrabah these last few months had done nothing to decrease the poverty line. Things had gotten bad for the better-offs and even worse for the worse-offs of the kingdom. The recent crop failure had put a halt on exports, which had slowed imports. Perhaps more important was the kingdom's water supply—or lack, now, thereof.

Surrounded by water, Kassim thought bitterly, and not a drop to drink. Unless everyone developed an insane tolerance for saltwater all of a sudden.

"I guess what I'm trying to say," Omar went on, ever the introspective one, "is that it might be a hard thing for you to tackle, but… just think of all the good you and Al and Jasmine will be doing."

Right.

"Sure… You know, of all the times we could use a Genie and a magic lamp," Kassim groaned, not quite ready to trade his complaining for Omar's common sense, "this is it. Three wishes," he went on, ticking the points off on his fingers, "rain, rain, and more rain."

The bird in Omar's lap cooed, flapping its wings to test out its new bandage. With a few short hops and a failed flutter, it landed in the kid's hand.

"Look! She likes to perch right on my scar, see?" Omar held up the bird in his palm and Kassim spared it a glance. Sure enough, the pigeon had made herself at home on the thin line across Omar's skin.

"Yeah." Kassim gave his own palm a glance. "It's way too late now, but sometimes I think we shouldn't have made the cuts so deep."

Omar just shrugged.

Despite the faded scars that would no doubt stick with all of them for the rest of their lives, Kassim had never regretted creating that blood-brother bond with his three friends. Not once.

"Well," he said, heaving one final sigh, "I suppose I should get back down there."

"Did you do enough breathing?"

Kassim shot Omar a look only to find his friend sporting a slight smirk. "Yeah, plenty."

And yet, still not enough…

"Hey, if you're not busy later," Omar began as Kassim stood up, "Zuma and I are having a chess tournament, if you want to watch."

"Even though that sounds like the most exciting thing I could possibly experience," came Kassim's dry response, "Aisha and I have plans."

Omar held up a hand. "I really don't want to hear about it."

"Dinner plans, geez."

"Oh. Okay, then. Well, if you two get bored…"

"We'll be sure to check out the competition, noted." Flashing Omar a wink and a brief salute, Kassim began to descend the stairs.

Savoring the cool air of the stairwell, he made the most of his last few moments.

Breathe.

You can do this…

Inhale, exhale.

The simple breathing pattern his mom had taught him years ago had come in handy a lot more in the recent months.

"Don't simply breathe. Think the words as you do it. Visualize the air flowing in and out like a steady, flowing river. There… Isn't that better?"

Much.

Inhale…

When Omar had joined their little gang, he'd come to them with more than his fair share of anxiety, so Kassim had taught him the technique—trying not to think of all the times he had coached his late little brother on the same pattern.

… Exhale.

"Forgetting something?"

Kassim had made it hallways down the hall when he heard it. Her sultry voice. It called to him, luring him off his path to the palace gates and into her waiting arms.

"Maybe," he said with a smile, folding Aisha in a loose embrace. "Are you talking about this?" After placing a sweet kiss on her lips, he added, "Or am I actually not as put together this morning as I think I am?"

"As lovely as that was…" The handmaiden returned his smile, then held up a familiar, jewel-encrusted brooch. "You really have to stop misplacing this."

"Right." The signature brooch that signified his status as Royal Vizier sparkled in the light. "Heaven forbid I don't wear it. How will anyone ever even know?"

With a chuckle and a shake of her head, she wrapped her arms tighter around his shoulders. "Is there anything else you think you might have forgotten…?"

"Oh, I can think of a few things…"

The little alcove off the hallway, Kassim noted, had always been perfect for certain distracting side quests that involved a beautiful woman and love beyond all compare. And yet, the two lovers hadn't been in there for more than a few minutes when a new voice snapped the string of kisses.

"It's people like you two that make me sick."

Kassim pulled away from Aisha, fixing his friend with a sour look. "Good morning to you, too, Babkak. Fancy seeing you in this secluded alcove. How'd you even find us, anyway?"

"Oh, please." Babkak gave his eyes a roll. "You guys aren't as discreet as you like to think."

"Well, in that case, it doesn't matter who sees, does it?" As he leaned in to kiss her again, Babkak groaned.

"Nope, that's not what I came here to see."

"Why did you come here, then?"

"Once you're done greeting the party from Tcircacia," Babkak explained, "Rashid wants to politely remind you that he's still waiting on you to bring him the trade and inventory reports. I told him I wasn't his errand boy, but said I'd deliver the message anyway."

Kassim waved a hand. "The visiting dignitaries won't want to go over those first-thing after a long journey." One raised brow from Babkak had him adding, "But yeah… I'll be sure to get right on that."

"Because that sounded reassuring. Maybe if you did a little less of this," Babkak went on, gesturing to the two lovers in the dark, "and a little more work, you'd—"

"Be boring like you? No thanks."

Though Babkak rolled his eyes again, Kassim caught the beginnings of a grin. The four of them knew each other too well to find the dry banter anything less than entertaining.

"Anything else?" Kassim asked when Babkak lingered.

"Oh, I don't know… Maybe the arriving party? But, you know, get to that whenever you can. No pressure."

"Right. Well." Giving Aisha an apologetic look, he reluctantly pried himself from her hold. "I'll see you," he teased in a sly tone, "later."

"I'm counting on it," Aisha returned, blessing him with one more electrifying kiss.

As she retreated back down the hall, Kassim stole a moment to watch her go. It still didn't feel real, how much their relationship had developed over the last couple of years. He remembered when he couldn't tell if she was simply playing hard to get or actually didn't like him.

Kassim squared his shoulders. "Well, wish me luck, I guess."

"It's times like this," Babkak began in reply, "that I'm so glad my world is the kitchen."

"Yeah, until our visitors don't like the dishes you make."

Making a face, Babkak shrugged. "Sounds like a them problem to me."

"Oh, hey," Kassim added, starting his slow trek down the hall backward so he could still see his friend, "if you're not busy later, there's supposed to be a thrilling chess tournament going on."

Babkak cocked an intrigued brow. "Between who?"

"Omar and Zuma."

Any interest died as Babkak shook his head. "No thanks. I can already see it now. Zero conversation and ultimate concentration. Now, if you'd said Jasmine and Omar, that might be a different story. Sometimes, Zuma scares me. Always so serious and silent."

"You and me both, but hey. It's something to do if you're bored."

"I think I'd find something to do at that point. Anyway, good luck."

"Thanks." Kassim waited until he had turned around to let the wince take over his features.

Maybe luck wasn't what he needed. Better karma, perhaps, or some sort of lucky charm. Now that would be a better confidence booster than simple luck…

The crooked turban and stiff frame that greeted him around the final corner made an imposing silhouette, to say the least, but Kassim easily saw past the princely posture. Aladdin was just as nervous as he was—maybe even more so.

Kassim tried not to think about the first time they had entertained important foreign visitors. It was a fiasco that no one had been able to fix. He was pretty sure Jasmine was still working on mending their relations with Mercia…

The sultan seemed not to notice that he was no longer alone. The opportunity was too good to ignore. With all the stealth and cunning he'd honed during his years on the streets, Kassim crept up behind Aladdin and slipped the first thing he could get his hands on out of his brother's pocket.

If Aladdin noticed, he didn't say anything.

"Your turban's crooked," Kassim said, finally making his presence known.

"Geez!" Aladdin clasped a hand to his chest. "Don't do that!"

"Do what?"

"Sneak up on people like that!"

"You mean, sneak up on people who are so deep in thought, they don't even notice that I've been standing next to them for five minutes at least?"

Aladdin blinked. "Wait, seriously?"

"No," Kassim responded with a laugh, nudging Aladdin's shoulder. "I'm just messing with you."

"This is not the day to mess with people."

"Hey," Kassim said, holding up his hands in mock surrender, "if we don't laugh, we'll cry, right?"

"You've got that right…" Aladdin muttered. Straightening his turban, he went on, "Everything hinges on these negotiations, Kassim. The entire kingdom is counting on us to make this right."

"It's not your fault that the rain has been so scarce lately."

"But I am in charge of taking care of our people. I should've found some sort of solution to this months ago…"

Placing a hand on his brother's shoulder, Kassim softened his tone. "Let's just take this whole thing one step at a time, all right? I'm sure everything will go just fine."

"But what if it doesn't?" Aladdin straightened his turban again. "What if—?"

"What happened to your hand?" The distraction worked because Aladdin glanced down at the bandage wrapped around his palm.

"Oh, I cut it on a nail."

Kassim arched a brow. "How the hell did you do that?"

"I was in a rush, okay?" After a moment, Aladdin asked, "Think it'll scar?"

"Depends on how deep it is," Kassim replied. "But look at it this way, if it does, that's one more tally for you."

The roll of Aladdin's eyes held a touch of humor. "You know, when I started that scar contest all those years ago, I didn't think you would carry it on for this long."

"It's a fun game." Kassim shrugged. "At least, for me it is. What's the point in getting injured if you can't get something out of it?"

"Right." Aladdin's chuckle was cut short when he ran a hand over his pocket. "Hey… What happened to my—?"

With a flare of dramatics, Kassim produced Aladdin's coin pouch. "You mean this?"

"Thanks," came Aladdin's wry response, but he was grinning.

"Just wanted to see if I still got it."

"Congratulations, you're still as sly a thief as ever."

Kassim gave a short bow. "Thank you. Now, maybe we should—"

"There you two are!" As Jasmine rounded the corner, her expression warned everyone in the general vicinity to make a mad dash for safety. "We're all waiting on you. Again."

"Come on," Kassim began, "we don't make the party late every time." Jasmine merely cocked a brow. "I said every time… That doesn't mean it never happens."

"Well, it's not going to happen today." Slipping closer to give her husband a peck on the cheek, Jasmine's expression shifted. All the irritation faded in a single sparkle of confidence. "Ready, love?"

"Always," replied a grinning Aladdin.

Kassim rolled his eyes. Maybe Babkak was onto something after all…

As the three prepared to journey with a small entourage to the kingdom harbor, Kassim felt his confidence begin to climb. They had all gotten Agrabah through tough spots before, so what made this time any different?

And after all, what was really the worst that could happen…?