“I want to inspect the knife,” Nyx says, yanking me out of my thoughts. As weathered as she appears on the outside, it’s instantly clear by her tone that her spark hasn’t diminished. “This is poisons class. How am I supposed to know she didn’t put something on the blade?”

We all look at Blackwood, who doesn’t answer right away. She can’t really be considering letting Nyx have the knife, can she? I shift my weight from one leg to the other.

“I’ll grant that request,” Blackwood says, and I nearly drop the knife out of shock.

Aarya slaps her knee and Layla’s cheeks drain of their color.

Blackwood retrieves the knife from my hand and gives it to Nyx, who slowly examines the blade and handle. She sniffs it, rubs her finger on it, and holds the metal up to the light. The entire roomful of students sits on the edge of their seats, and it’s so quiet that I can hear myself breathe.

Suddenly Nyx darts forward, the knife extended in front of her. I raise my arm in defense and the guards reach for her. But she stops short and laughs.

Brendan snickers behind me.

“I take it you’re satisfied?” Blackwood says to Nyx, without reprimanding her for the lunge.

“Almost,” Nyx says, but she’s not looking at Blackwood, she’s looking at me. She makes sure she has my full attention as she raises the knife to her own shoulder. She pulls the blade along her skin without so much as a wince. A smirk appears on her lips. She hands the knife back to Blackwood, handle first, and wipes her now-bloody palm on her shirt, creating a red smear.

“There, it’s done,” Nyx says, holding my gaze. “We’re even. Now you can stop looking at the door like you want to run and cry.”

My whole body tenses. How in the hell did she just beat me at her own punishment? Now if I do nothing, the damage will be done—everyone will get the message that when it comes to a physical confrontation, I’m afraid to act.

“Aaactually,” I say slowly, fighting to keep the uneasiness out of my voice, “you cutting your own shoulder in no way makes us even. In fact, that was one of the worst strategic moves I’ve seen in a long time.”

If Layla looked worried before, she now looks like she might have stopped breathing. Blood drips down Nyx’s left arm and she narrows her eyes.

Before Blackwood can say a word, I grab the knife and jab forward, just shy of Nyx’s uncut shoulder, grazing the fabric of her shirt with the sharp blade, creating a small tear. Nyx gasps and jumps out of the way.