‘Birin!’ shouted the Prince, ‘I’ll have your head-’
‘Have you or your friends been harmed,’ Birin asked Pran without taking his eyes from the Prince’s.
‘We have not,’ Pran replied, ‘but from the Prince’s words just now, I have cause to fear for my family and friends.’
This brought a glint from Birin’s eyes, and he pressed his blade firmly against the Prince’s throat. ‘Have you conspired to harm his family?’
Prince Cir smiled at this. ‘The fate of his family does not lie in my hands.’
‘Answer me!’ shouted Birin, nicking Cir’s neck and drawing blood this time. ‘Or I will strike your head from your body without benefit of trial.’
Fixing Birin with his insolent gaze, he said, ‘You wouldn’t dare.’
‘No?’ Birin said mildly. For a moment, it appeared as though he meant to put his sword up. But at the last moment, he brought it up hard, and with the flat of it caught the Prince full across the face. Crying out in pain and rage, the Prince fell awkwardly from his horse. With an animal noise, thick with the promise of violence, he got to his knees, glaring malevolently, a hand clutched to his face. Birin’s sword had cut him deeply along the entire length of his jaw; it oozed slightly- but it did not bleed.