Ryan leaned back slightly, mirroring Evan's relaxed posture, but his eyes remained hard, watchful. A humorless smile touched his lips, cold as steel. "Oh, I know what I think, Evan," he replied, his voice dangerously soft. "I know you have a deep-seated problem with me. Always have since when we're little lads. Fine. Take it out on me, cousin. We can settle our differences like men. But you leave my wife out of it. Completely."
The smug amusement vanished from Evan's face as if wiped clean, replaced by a sudden, dark intensity. His relaxed posture stiffened. "I have a problem with you?" he repeated, his voice turning serious, laced with years of simmering resentment. "You dare sit there and say that? You thief! You and your father before you. You stole my birthright! You stole my duchy from me!"
