Chapter 260: Participants
The McCoy estate was the largest private residence in Ironhold.
While the Hartwell property was comfortable and well-maintained, the McCoy estate was something else entirely.
It sprawled across an enormous plot of land at the northern edge of the city, surrounded by tall stone walls draped in ivy, with iron-wrought gates that could have stopped a small army.
The main house was three stories tall, built from pale stone that gleamed under the morning sun.
Polished wooden balconies lined the upper floors, each one overlooking manicured gardens filled with flowering plants that had no problem surviving in a region that had suffered years of drought.
Then again, the McCoys had money. Drought or no drought, they were wealthy enough to afford the inflated prices in the end times after all.
The streets leading to the estate were busier than Alex had ever seen them.
Word of the Suitor’s Challenge had spread through Ironhold like wildfire, and half the city seemed to have turned up just to catch a glimpse of the proceedings. Merchants had abandoned their stalls.
Labourers had taken the morning off. Even the old men who usually spent their days sitting outside teahouses had dragged their chairs closer to the McCoy estate walls, craning their necks to see over the crowds.
"Is that him? The water merchant?"
"That’s Alex Carter. The one who ended the drought."
"Is he competing for Miss Evelyn’s hand too?"
"I heard he’s already courting the Hartwell girl. And now he wants Miss Evelyn too? Dammit."
The whispers followed Alex as he walked through the front gates with Riya, Lucy, and Nathan at his side.
The courtyard was already packed with people young men in their finest clothing, accompanied by servants, advisors, and in some cases their entire families.
Beyond the gates, a thick crowd of townspeople had gathered along the outer walls, jostling for position, trying to peer through the iron bars.
Twenty-three suitors. All gathered in one place for the first time.
Nathan leaned toward Alex as they entered. "I counted them on the way in. Twenty-three confirmed, just like I said. There are some who are goddamn serious about it, and there are also some people who are just only here because their fathers forced them."
"Oh, you can tell now... so which ones are serious?" Alex asked, keeping his voice low.
Nathan tilted his chin toward a tall, broad-shouldered young man standing near the garden fountain with two attendants.
"That’s Aldric Voss. Son of the Voss trading company from the neighbouring county. They handle iron and metalwork across three counties. He’s a very well known hunter who has been going on expeditions since he was fourteen. He will be one of the strongest competitors of yours."
He shifted his gaze to a leaner figure standing alone by the courtyard wall, arms crossed, watching everyone else with a quiet, calculating expression.
"That one is Dorian Ashford. Minor noble family, but he has a reputation for being clever. Not the strongest or the fastest, but people say he never loses a bet in a gambling den because he has an unusual grasp of luck in his hands."
"And Henrik?" Alex asked.
Nathan’s expression soured. "Over there."
Alex followed his gaze toward the far end of the courtyard.
Henrik Bjornson stood with his father, Lord Bjornson, near the entrance to the main hall. He was dressed in a tailored hunting coat of dark green, his hair neatly combed, his posture straight.
The drunk, dishevelled young man who had been caught stumbling out of a brothel was gone.
In his place stood someone who had clearly been putting in effort his frame looked slightly more toned, his eyes were sharp and clear, and there was something akin to determination bordering on desperation in him.
"He’s cleaned up too well these past few days. Apparently when inheritance is on the line, people can do anything," Nathan muttered.
"Don’t underestimate him," Alex said quietly. "A man on the verge of losing his entire fortune is more dangerous than anyone else in here."
Riya, who had been silently taking in the spectacle of the courtyard, leaned forward between them.
"Which one is Evelyn?"
Lucy, walking beside her, answered quietly. "Miss Evelyn won’t be in the courtyard. She will be inside, with her father, for the announcement. It would not be appropriate for her to be out here with the suitors before the event."
Riya nodded slowly. "So she watches from above while the men compete below."
"As per the tradition, yes."
"Charming," Riya said dryly.
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The main hall of the McCoy estate was grand enough to host a small banquet, which, based on the long tables and the decoration arrangements, it appeared it would be doing later that evening.
For now, the hall had been arranged for the briefing.
Twenty-three chairs were set in neat rows facing a raised wooden platform at the far end, where a large oak podium stood. Behind the podium hung the McCoy family banner..... a golden thread pattern on deep blue fabric.
The suitors filed in and took their seats.
The upper gallery was reserved for guests, family members, and representatives of the participants. Nathan, Riya, and Lucy settled into seats near the front of the gallery, giving them a clear view of the entire hall below.
Behind them, the gallery buzzed with quiet conversation. Fathers pointed out rivals to their younger sons. Mothers whispered behind fans. Servants stood at attention along the walls.
Near the far end of the gallery, Lord Bjornson sat with a rigid face, his hands folded on his lap, his eyes fixed on his son below.
On the opposite end, Lord Edmund’s personal seat remained empty for now.
Nathan nudged Lucy. "Look at all these people. I have not seen this many nobles in one room since the Magistrate’s last tax announcement. And nobody came to that willingly."
Lucy smiled faintly but said nothing. Her eyes were scanning the hall below, searching for a face she had not seen in weeks.
Riya noticed. "Is she down there?"
"No," Lucy said softly. "She will be with her father. On the platform."
The hall gradually fell silent as Lord Edmund McCoy stepped onto the platform.
He was an imposing figure despite his age tall, with silver-streaked hair combed back neatly and a neatly trimmed beard that gave him the appearance of a man who had never once in his life made a decision without thinking it through three times first.
And just behind him, slightly to the left, stood Miss Evelyn McCoy.
She wore a deep blue dress that matched the family banner, her dark hair pinned up elegantly, her posture perfectly straight. Her expression was composed the picture of a patriarch’s daughter who had been raised to show nothing in public.
But her eyes moved.
They swept across the rows of suitors slowly, carefully, as if looking for one face in particular.
When they found Alex in the third row, they stopped.
It lasted less than a second. Then her gaze moved on, continuing its sweep as though nothing had happened.
But in the gallery above, Lucy’s hands tightened in her lap. She had caught it.
Riya, sitting beside her, had caught it too.
Neither of them said a word.