Suddenly a great light burst upon her. Jotan! He was responsible—it could be no other! Because she belonged to Urim he had been forced to have her stolen from the palace and taken to some out-of-the-way spot that he might be with her. This was the answer—the only answer!
Belief became certainty; and with it came indecision. A strange mixture of dread and exultation came over her. Her heart beat faster at thought of meeting the man who had aroused within her an emotion as yet unfathomable. But matters were being brought to a head much too quickly to suit her—she needed more time.
Unconsciously she slowed her steps, pulling back at the grip on her arm. They were already within the jungle, hidden from Sephar by a bend of the trail underfoot.
Meltor, satisfied that the girl would accompany him peaceably, had relaxed his hold.
Suddenly Dylara twisted free, and before the surprised warrior could interfere, she whirled about and dashed away in the opposite direction.
Meltor wheeled and took up the chase, crying out hoarsely for her to stop. But the rage in his voice only spurred on the girl to greater effort.
Along the trail they raced, a few yards apart, their sandaled feet kicking up little puffs of dust and powdered vegetation. The nimble-footed girl was gradually increasing her lead, seeking to gain the bend in the trail with enough time for concealment before Meltor could catch sight of her again.
And then, without warning, something caught at her ankle, plunging her headlong to the ground with terrific force. Half-stunned, she made a weak effort to regain her feet, when a strong hand grasped her roughly by an arm and jerked her upright.
The rage-distorted face of Meltor swam hazily before her. She blinked rapidly in an effort to dispel the fog.