The Vixen Trials

I Recognize Him

"It's not safe for you"

Dakkoul

The gong sounded for second meal as Malek slunk against the wall. Did the three-coin sleck actually think Dakkoul would embrace him as family then break him out to see their dad? The idea would be laughable if it wasn't so distasteful, a slur against his father who had always adored children and openly wished for more. That Malek had correctly guessed his father's name was nothing compared to that. Dakkoul ground out, "Don't speak of this again. Go and eat, Fox-dancer".

Malek pulled himself upright, hanging his head and something in his face made Dakkoul pause. Did Malek look like him? Like his father? His skin was a similar shade of light brown and they both had a protruding forehead but that wasn't enough. If only there was a way he could test and be sure. The ridiculous thing was he'd always longed for a brother almost as much as his father prayed for other children to be given his mother. Not that that mattered now, of course.

Dakkoul stomped towards the dining hall and as he did so, he remembered the bump on the back of his head. Male members of his family always had it. He ran his fingers over his, memorizing the odd protruding shape of it before entering the dining room. All he had to do was feel the back of Malek's head and the lingering doubt, fostered no doubt by the old longing, would be squelched.

He reached the dining room and entered. The long wooden trestles were already filled with slaves jostling for places, but as people saw him, their loud banter muted. Dakkoul straight to huge pots resting on the bench that divided the room with the kitchen behind it. Cate, her silver hair glinting in the light, lifted the lid of the first and steam poured out. A line was forming with the hungriest already holding out plates in the direction of the food. Malek blocked his way. Dakkoul grimaced and kept walking, expecting him to move aside. He did not.

"Let me get your food, Hattavah."

Dakkoul raised his eyebrow. "That'll take longer." Everyone always shrank back when he approached so that he became the first in line.

"I insist. It's my job."

"Your job, as you call it," said Dakkoul enunciating the words, "is to spy on me." They were attracting the attention of everyone, although all kept their distance their faces leaned in a little closer.

Malek held his head up and said in a loud voice, "I am your slave, Hattavah, and I will get your meal." He walked to the front of the line and got two plates full.

He was getting his own food at the same time, of course. The corner of Dakkoul's mouth twitched then he turned and sat down at his table in the corner, casting his eyes over the crowd. The soldiers were joining them tonight. In the far corner was the Grent making a scene as usual, protesting over some injustice. Dakkoul fixed him eyes on him, imagining they were weapons pinning him to the wall until Grent noticed him and his wild talk faltered. Dakkoul kept his glare steady until Grent squirmed, then Dakkoul continued his scan of the room, alighting on the rough honest face of Jalen who was standing quietly in the line, not jostling or racaus like the others. A wisp of a smile appeared on Jalen's face when he saw he was being watched and he nodded in greeting. Dakkoul inclined his head in response.

Malek slapped on the table in front of him a boiled rabbit leg on top of leek and potato mash. The anticipation of eating it lightened his mood so much he nearly said thank you but then Malek put his own plate down as well.

"Go away," he said in his sharpest tone. Malek picked up his plate without looking at him. Out of the corner of his eye, Dakkoul saw Alyssia hesitating in the doorway. He watched her for a moment then called out to Malek's retreating back. "Help that girl in the doorway, will you? Introduce her to your friends."

Malek sauntered over to Alyssia and gave her his plate and made a place for her to sit with his usual crowd. Laughter spread out from them and eyes swung in direction. No doubt Malek was telling them all about him. He stared glumly at his mash. He wasn't feeling hungry anymore. He glanced up and saw Alyssia looking at him too. Then she stood up and came over to him.

"Hello, Hattavah," she said with a tentative smile.

He shook his head and growled, "Go back to Malek."

She sat down. "I want to talk with you," she said, her eyes pleading. "I want to thank you for earlier."

"There's nothing to thank me for," he said making his voice hard. He had to make her go away. There was nothing for her to gain from being friendly with him but suspicion and distrust from the others. It would bring Lord Rustavan's attention to her and she'd hardly want to be friendly with him when she found out he really was like. Her face crumpled.

Dakkoul sighed and softened his tone. "Not here, Alyssia. Not with everyone watching. It's not safe for you."

She bit her lip and rose. From across the room came the sound of a commotion as Grent strode towards them with Jalen, sporting a fresh dark bruise under his eye, and a group of soldiers at his rear.

Dakkoul stood up. Malek came to his side. "You think I need your protection?" Dakkoul asked out of the corner of his mouth, his tone derisive.

"Where else should I be?" said Malek, his eyes flashing. "Watching you face them from afar?"

"I don't need your help." His eyes were drawn to Alyssia who was shaking. He stepped closer to her so that she turned her head to his. "Don't be afraid. I won't let him harm you."

"I'm not afraid," she said, her voice deeper than usual, her breath coming in gasps and he realized it was anger blazing across her cheeks.  "I recognize him."