The
moment was approaching and still no sign of Turan. But what could
he accomplish should he succeed in reaching the throne room,
other than to die with her? There could be no hope of rescue.
The dignitary lifted the golden handcuffs from the pillow upon
which they reposed. He blessed them and reached for Tara's wrist.
The time had come! The thing could go no further, for alive or
dead, by all the laws of Barsoom she would be the wife of O-Tar
of Manator the instant the two were locked together. Even should
rescue come then or later she could never dissolve those bonds
and Turan would be lost to her as surely as though death
separated them.
Her hand stole toward the hidden blade, but instantly the hand of
the groom shot out and seized her wrist. He had guessed her
intention. Through the slits in the grotesque mask she could see
his eyes upon her and she guessed the sardonic smile that the
mask hid. For a tense moment the two stood thus. The people below
them kept breathless silence for the play before the throne had
not passed un-noticed.
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