"Zollaria is what? A nation ruled by one man and a cycle of advisors, whose word is ultimate law. How was that brought about? By intermarriage--by making the governing house of Zollaria one, bound wholly together by a common interest without regard to anything else save that. Hence, let us make the interests of Aphur and Cathur one, and let us not delay." "By intermarriage?" "Aye. With the right princess on Cathur's throne Kyphallos might be swayed, and certainly nothing would transpire without our gaining word." "You have such an one in mind?" Lakkon asked. "Aye. I plan not so vaguely, Lakkon. I would give him the fairest maid of Aphur to wife. It would require such to hold a man of his type. Do you know that inside the last cycle he has been seen frequently at Niera, mingling with the Zollarian nobles who come to summer there?" "So I have heard rumored." Prince Lakkon inclined his head. "But this woman?" "Your daughter Naia," Jadgor declared. "Naia! Your sister's own child!" Prince Lakkon half rose from his chair. "Hilka!" Jadgor waved him back. "Stop Lakkon! She is beautiful as Ga, the mother of Azil. It is because of her Kyphallos comes to Himyra now. I, Jadgor of Aphur, sent him the invitation with this in mind for Tamarizia's good. The betrothal must be agreed upon before he returns. Lakkon, I speak as your king." Prince Lakkon's face seemed to Croft to age, to grow drawn and somewhat pale as he bowed to his king's command. He looked to Croft, indeed, as Jason knew he himself felt. Never had he seen Prince Kyphallos of Cathur, yet he had heard him mentioned that morning in Lakkon's coach. He had heard Naia's soft lips utter sincere disgust of the lecherous young noble. Now Naia--the woman he himself loved--was planned a sacrifice to policy of state. Every atom of his soul cried out in revolt--"not that--not that." He might not win her himself, as he very well knew. Yet he had seen her--known her, loved her. A sick loathing evoked by Jadgor's plan waked in his soul. The thought of her surrender to the foul embrace of the northern prince roused within him a rebellion so vast that his senses whirled. Lakkon rose slowly. His features were dull and his voice a monotone of feeling too deep for an accent of expression. "King of Aphur, I shall inform the maid that she is chosen a sacrifice," he said. "I know her mind. She loathes this Prince of Cathur in her heart." "Yet other women have sacrificed themselves to their nation in Tamarizia's history," Jadgor replied. "I shall place the matter before her in that light," Lakkon informed him, and turned to leave the room.