It's an entirely different kind of cold sweat, at that curved smile, and Joanna stares like a deer in headlights for a few seconds. Even when the smile fades away, the image echoes in her mind, and she swallows slowly.

But. Well. No one ever said the wizard was merciful. The sword dangling over them all isn't kind or pitying, it's just... doing its job. The wizard, is just doing her job.

"Umm... If I may, I don't--" Joanna cuts herself off from outright stating her wishes in disagreement with the wizard about what to do, stares down at her hands, and changes tacks. "I'm not looking for, uh, special treatment?"

That's what she has to assume this sudden promise about the twelfth is, letting her live until the end of the knights' defense of the world.