"I know much," Croft cut her short. "Am I dull of comprehension not to sense the name of her who prayed to Zitu in her travail? And what should wring such prayers from your flower-sweet breast, save that defilement it is planned to bring about, to add to Aphur's strength?"
Once more she flamed before him. "Were I to speak your words to Lakkon or to Jadgor, it would mean your death," she hissed.
"Then speak them—if you wish, beloved." Croft smiled.
As quickly as she had threatened, she drooped now at his words. Something akin to fear came into her eyes. "Who are you—" she began in the voice of a child.
"One who loves you," said Croft. "Who has loved you always—who always will. One whom you love—"
"Hold!" Once more she checked him.
But he shook his head. "What need of the sacrifice—when I shall give Aphur and all Tamarizia that strength they would purchase now with you?"
"Yet for that strength your price would be the same."
"Nay—" Croft denied, "unless it were paid gladly."
"And if it were not?"