I don't want them to bend the knee to me, I just need to--

[ She's thrown off mid-sentence by his display, finding herself just staring at the spot where he should be bleeding, at the tulip in his fingers. Slowly she reaches up to turn his hand over in her own, looking up his sleeve to see where he could be hiding the dagger that he surely must have switched out at the last moment. ]

That wasn't sleight of hand. You stabbed yourself, I saw it. Then how--