I looked up at him, cold and unblinking. "You forget yourself. What gives you the right to lay a hand on me?"
The words had barely left my mouth when something slammed into the backs of my knees. They buckled, and I crashed onto the stone with a crack that shot white-hot pain through every bone in my body.
The soldier pressed the flat of his weapon against my spine. "Apologize to the lady."
Gianna stood before me. Her shoes were exquisite, Italian leather, each stitch immaculate. They might as well have been a taunt.
Rosa clutched her injured chest and tried to lunge forward, but Gianna's people pinned her down. "Shut your mouth. A servant has no business running it in front of our lady."
Gianna's voice drifted down from above me, soft as silk. "My lady, all you need to do is apologize. I won't hold it against you."
"Or is it that you look down on me? That you think I'm some shameful kept woman not fit to be seen?"
The soldier roared. "I'll count to three. If you haven't put your face to the ground by then, I won't be gentle about it."
I kept my chin raised. He counted, loud enough for every soul outside the compound gates to hear. "One. Two. Three."