“Yet thou canst not bring thyself to cast me into the lions’ pit,” I observed, smiling bitterly. “Better that thou shouldst give me my liberty, and allow me to depart.”
“Never,” she cried, starting up. “Thou shalt never leave me. If I am doomed to die, thou shalt die also.”
“Why?” I asked. “I have wrought thee no ill.”
“Thou hast struck the chord of affection within my heart, Zafar,” she said, passionately.
“Already have I told thee that Azala, daughter of the Sultan ’Othman, is betrothed to me,” I answered, not in the least surprised at this passionate declaration.
“Heed her not,” she cried. “Already I know that Anu, though he sendeth thee hither as sign of the overthrow of Ea, hath, nevertheless, placed upon thee also the Mark of the Asps.”
I started. I had no idea that she had ascertained the secret hidden beneath my robe of crimson silk. Some slave must, at her bidding, have examined my chest as I slept.
“And if so?”
“Then thou wilt assuredly meet with a violent end.” I smiled, and she regarded me with knit brows.
“If thou art my friend,” I said, “then thou wilt release me.”