"Move, and I'll pierce your throat."
Ajax's eyes flicked to the side, and there she stood. Sienna. Her presence was like a dark storm, her black hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, her blue eyes colder than the steel she pressed against him. She was breathtaking, more so than even Aisha, her beauty matched only by the lethal intent in her gaze.
Her hand was steady, the blade poised to end his life with the slightest flick of her wrist. Ajax hadn't expected this—hadn't sensed her approach.
She could kill him where he stood. And yet, she didn't. Her restraint was barely contained, but she knew the consequences of such an action. Killing a Greek king, even one as hated as Ajax, would bring the full wrath of the greeks, their armies or maybe the Gods who blessed him.
"Release your filthy hand from her," Sienna ordered.
