"I've no quarrel with you, miss," the Knight says, his jaw tight and his gaze locked on Caspian's face. "But if this churl will not grant me an honorable duel in which to better teach him his manners – "

"Speak softly, sir Knight," Caspian says, dry. He's pushing, pushing – the clock is ticking ever closer to that fatal hour. But it isn't close enough, not yet. "Ere you dishonor your Lady further by seeing yourself thrown into yet another prison, one without her sweet presence. But by what right must I defend myself to you? You, who have even forgotten the face of your father?"

Beside him, Peter stiffens, but Caspian continues, lost now in his grief and rage. "But as you will. Step outside with me, sir, and I will happily prove my honor in clean battle."