Chapter 263: A Gathering of Rivals
The McCoy estate looked different at night.
Hundreds of lanterns had been hung along the stone walls and garden pathways, casting pools of warm golden light that flickered in the evening breeze.
Silk banners in deep blue and gold....the McCoy colors were draped elegantly from every balcony.
The courtyard, which had been filled with nervous suitors that morning, was now set with long tables covered in white linen.
They were loaded with enough food to feed a small village for a week, while musicians played softly from a raised platform near the garden fountain.
Alex walked through the courtyard entrance with his three companions: Riya to his left, Lucy to his right, and Nathan trailing just behind.
The banquet was already in full swing.
Suitors mingled with their families and sponsors across the lantern-lit courtyard, while servants weaved between groups, carrying trays of wine and small dishes.
The crowd was much larger than it had been at the morning briefing.
Beyond the twenty-three suitors and their entourages, half of Ironhold’s notable families seemed to have received invitations. Merchant lords, minor officials, and even a few military officers in formal uniform stood in clusters, talking and watching.
Riya observed the scene quietly. "Quite the rare spectacle."
"Just what you’d expect from a feudal society," Alex replied.
Nathan appeared at his shoulder. "Brother Alex, do you see that man standing near the third table?"
Alex glanced in the indicated direction. A heavyset man in expensive silk was laughing loudly at something.
"That’s Lord Harlan Voss. Aldric’s father," Nathan murmured. "He controls the iron trade in three counties and has been trying to get an audience with Lord Edmund for years. For him, this challenge is a stepping stone to expand his influence here. We should be careful; his son will be a tough competitor."
"And her?" Alex tilted his chin toward a stern-looking woman in dark clothing standing near the far wall. She was watching the room with sharp, disapproving eyes.
"Lady Ashford. Dorian’s mother. Widowed young, she raised Dorian alone and rebuilt their family’s reputation from nothing. She’s one of the few female heads of a household around here. Everything that boy knows, he learned from her."
"You’ve done your homework," Riya said, mildly impressed.
Nathan grinned. "I’ve been running the syndicate for a while now, Big Sister. It’s the least I could do."
A servant approached with a tray of wine cups. Alex took one but didn’t drink. Riya declined. Lucy accepted one politely and simply held it without sipping.
They found a table near the east wall of the courtyard, far enough from the center to observe without being the center of attention.
It didn’t work.
Within minutes, a steady stream of people began approaching their table. There were merchants who owed their livelihoods to the rain Alex had brought, and minor officials who just wanted to see the miracle worker up close.
There were also a few young, blushing maidens looking to express their "favor."
One particularly bold girl barely managed a shy, "Hello, My Lord," before Riya leveled an icy, silent glare at her that could have frozen a volcano. The girl squeaked and practically sprinted away.
"Was the death glare really necessary?" Alex asked, suppressing a smile.
"I am merely protecting your focus for tomorrow," Riya replied without missing a beat, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward. "We wouldn’t want you distracted."
"Right. My focus," Alex said dryly.
Lucy giggled softly behind her wine cup. "I think we just scared away half of Ironhold’s future brides, Sister Riya."
Riya sniffed delicately. "Good. They lack discipline."
She turned back to Alex, her tone shifting to quiet fascination. "Though I must admit, you certainly have a knack for attracting them. Watching you hold court tonight, no one would ever guess you didn’t grow up in a noble house."
"I’ve had plenty of practice fending off attention these past few months," Alex replied lightly. "Though I usually rely on my own terrifying glares, not yours."
Their light mood shifted when Henrik appeared at their table twenty minutes into the banquet.
When Henrik saw Lucy and Riya by the side of his rival....both women possessing a beauty that easily rivaled Evelyn’s....a sharp pang of jealousy flared in his chest. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from lashing out.
He hadn’t arrived with an entourage or made a dramatic entrance. He simply walked over alone, carrying a single cup of wine, and stopped three paces from Alex’s chair.
The table went quiet.
Alex looked up at Henrik with no particular expression. "Henrik."
Henrik smiled. "I wanted to come and wish you well before tomorrow," he said, his voice calm. "Whatever happens in the challenge, I hope it will be decided fairly and without any lingering grudges."
"That’s surprisingly mature of you," Alex said. "It seems a few days on the streets have done wonders."
"I have had time to reflect on my past behavior."
Henrik’s smile faltered slightly and continued. "I was a different man months ago. I did things that I am not proud of. But people can change, Mr. Carter. I hope you believe that."
"I believe people can pretend to change," Alex replied evenly. "Whether that change is real usually becomes clear under pressure. In our case, during the competition."
Henrik held his gaze for a long moment. Something flickered behind those composed eyes. Anger? Humiliation?
"Then I suppose tomorrow will reveal the truth about both of us," Henrik said.
He inclined his head slightly in a gesture of respect, turned, and walked back toward his father’s table without another word. He purposefully kept his eyes forward, avoiding looking at the women, as if terrified of drawing his father’s ire once again.
The table was silent for several seconds after he left.
Nathan was the first to speak. "That was a surprising change."
"He’s pretending," Riya said, her voice low. "Every word of that was filled with malice."
"Agreed," Alex said. He picked up his wine cup for the first time and took a small sip. "Don’t underestimate what twelve days of sobriety and the fear of losing everything can do to a person."