Without a word, Khillea released her grip on Penthesilea, letting the Amazon queen crumple to the ground. Penthesilea gasped for breath, her body trembling from the aftershock of narrowly escaping death. But Khillea's attention was no longer on her.
It was on Paris.
In a blur of motion, Khillea surged forward, her flaming sword leaving trails of light in its wake carving arcs of brilliance through the air as she advanced on her prey. Paris's instincts screamed at him to flee, and he obeyed without hesitation, turning on his heel and sprinting away.
"Stop her!" he barked over his shoulder, his voice tinged with desperation as he waved at the Trojans. The soldiers, loyal more to his title than the man himself, hesitated for only a fraction of a second before charging toward the oncoming storm.
It was a futile effort.
