Clyone and Ulana
The Zara received them in the throne room, alone. Blaine hesitated as he crossed the threshold, Ulana's trembling fingers tightly clasped in his own. The quick prod of the invisible ray pistol warned him that Ianito was at his heels.
Clyone uncurled her sinuous, black-sheathed body and rose to her feet as they neared the dais.
"Welcome, oh Carson," she purred. "Clyone has mourned you as dead, but she mourns no longer. A kind fate has returned you."
The gold-flecked eyes were all for him; it was as if she did not see his companion. Blaine fought the spell of her with all that was in him. He did not reply.
"Come to me, Carson," she pleaded, her lashes lowered. "Leave this Rulan girl and come to me."
"Where I go she goes," he replied firmly.
"Very well then," said the Zara meekly, "bring her with you. I would converse with her as with you."
Something new, this was: a gentleness Blaine had never thought the leopard woman could exhibit, even in sham. And her eyes, when she raised them, still were gentle. She extended a white arm and smiled provocatively. If this was a ruse, if she meant harm to the Rulan maid, her acting was superb. And, from what he had seen of the woman previously, he was almost convinced of her sincerity. A nature like hers was incapable of successful dissimulation. Still, he was suspicious and he shielded Ulana with his body as they came up to the throne. The Zara studied them in silence for a while. Then she spoke.
"Let me look at you, my dear," she said to the Rulan maiden.