It won't be fatal. [He doesn't get it until he sees it, she knows that much.] It won't miss, but it won't be fatal. Perhaps it is easier if you witness it yourself. Besides, if I truly die, you could find yourself a Master of your liking.

[She watches the lance head, pointed at her chest, and with a nudge of her free hand, fixes it so it targets her heart more easily. Her hand doesn't even flinch when he squeezes it, though she is beginning to feel the pain inflicted on her, and she squeezes it back. Encouragingly, as if she's telling him it will be okay.]

Do your worst.