"Who is what?" inferred Julius, the attention pushed onto the front porch – the mention of guests from Seiran hit home. Igna watched, arms crossed and innards seething in rage – death wrote in his fists.
"Cousin," he whispered, "-get him out…"
"Cousin," interjected Julius, "-don't," he reached for Igna's hands and pulled, "-look at him," the glances missed, "-they're engaged from what I heard."
"Engaged?" he narrowed, "-those two?"
