“Look,” I growl.

He glances down and away. “You’re not as strong as I thought.”

His words carry a ring of truth. I should have healed. I could have healed from a wound like that if I’d been able to call on the magic just a little bit faster.

Doubt swirls around me. I will lose. If I can’t heal a knife wound to the stomach, how will I ever be able to pull off a show worthy of applause? It’s not like street performing or doing small illusions on the stage. These people are immortal. They have seen it all.

Ethan watches with cool satisfaction.

This. This is what he wanted more than the shock and applause he earned from the performance. He wanted me to doubt myself, to doubt the magic—to make the magic abandon me in my hour of need.

“You’re a bastard,” I hiss.

He tucks his hand into his pockets, shoulders drooping. “In more than one way,” he admits, winking to cover the vulnerable part of him. “I did you a favor, Ava.”

“How do you figure?”

“Now you know. You can’t win this. You may be able to die trying, but you will never win. Leave and live,” he says casually, like there isn’t an implicit threat to his words.

I drag a knife from the sheath on my wrist. I raise the tip to the knot in his tie and let it trail lazily down to his stomach, to the exact spot where he hit me.

Something flickers in his expression, but he does not flinch.

“Go ahead.” He leans forward slightly, pushing the knife just to the point of ripping the fabric on his shirt. “I know how to heal.”

“So do I.”

I jerk the knife back, then swing it in an arc toward his face, but I don’t hit him. Instead, I lift my other hand and slide my knife in and out of my own palm in one swift movement, praying I don’t hit a bone. Bone is harder to heal. I have to grit my teeth against the pain, but I don’t hesitate.

Ethan jolts, surprise taking control of him for one moment before he can slide back behind indifference.

I call the magic to me instantly, and it answers, humming a tune in my hand as it sews my flesh back together again. It’s not the magic it would take to heal a gut wound, but at least I can prove I have some skill.

“Nice party trick.”

“Don’t test me again.”

We stare at each other in silence before he turns on his heel and struts away.

I walk back to the throne room.