There was no hesitation in the soldier's answer. "Behead her, my lady — and bring the head to him."
Johanna smirked widely.
"No...what?!" Freja exploded, the sound tearing out of her throat. Her hands went for her sword before common sense and fear yanked them back.
Johanna did not flinch. She pointed with a single, imperious finger toward Servilia. "Bring her to her knees."
Servilia met the gesture with the same placid composure she wore like armor; she looked at Johanna as if addressing a troublesome child rather than a woman issuing an executioner's command. The contrast only sharpened the cruelty in Johanna's expression.
"W...wait! You can't!" Freja cried. She moved again, this time with eyes burning with desperate intent, but the soldier at Ida's throat tightened his grip. The cold ring of steel pressed deeper until a thin thread of dark blood escaped and welled against Ida's skin.
