Finally the princess threw herself face down on the disordered bed and burst into hysterical weeping. She had about cried herself out, when a hand touched her arm.
"Go away, Anela!" she snapped, without looking up. "I told you to stay out until I sent for you."
"It is I," said a deep voice, "Urim, your father."
The girl scrambled hastily from the bed, at the same time wiping away the traces of tears.
"I'm sorry, father. I thought it was Anela, come back to look after me."
The man chuckled. "If I know anything, she won't be back until you fetch her. She is huddled in one corner of the hall outside, shaking as though Sadu had chased her!"
Despite his fifty years, Urim, ruler of Sephar, was still an imposing figure. Larger than the average Sepharian, he had retained much of the splendid physique an active life had given him. Of late years, however, he had been content to lead a more sedentary life; this, and a growing fondness for foods and wine, had added inches to his middle and fullness to his face, while mellowing still further a kindly disposition.
Alurna sat down on the edge of her bed and sought to tidy the cloud of loosely bound dark curls framing her lovely head. She was taller, by an inch or two, than the average Sepharian girl, with a lithe, softly rounded figure, small firm breasts, rather delicate features and a clear olive skin. She was wearing a sleeveless tunic which fell from neck to knees, caught at the waist by a wide belt of the same material. Her shapely legs were bare, the feet encased in heelless sandals of leather.
Urim drew up a chair and sat down. He watched Alurna as she freshened her appearance, his face reflecting a father's pride.
"Come, child," he said at last. "It is time for the mid-day meal. And that brings out what I came to tell you."