Chapter 266: Lady Ashford
The sharp boom echoed down the empty lane and faded into nothing.
Nathan flinched. "He was already dead."
"I know," Alex said, standing. His voice was flat. "Now I’m sure."
He holstered the pistol.
Nathan then removed his blade from the man’s throat.
Riya emerged from behind Alex. She looked at the bodies on the ground, then at the pistol now hidden at his side. Her face was pale, but her voice was steady.
"Are you alright?" she asked quietly.
"Fine," Alex said.
Nathan was staring at the spot where the pistol had disappeared with undisguised fascination. He pointed at Alex’s hand.
"Brother Alex."
"Yeah."
"What is that thing?"
Alex looked down at his empty hand. Then at Nathan.
"Nothing you need to worry about."
Nathan stood there for a moment, mouth open. Then he threw his hands up. "Every time! Every single time! You always say ’next time,’ and next time never comes!"
"Maybe next time," Alex said, already walking.
"You see?! You see what he does?!"
Lucy, who had been quietly straightening her dress and checking her hands for cuts, let out a small, breathless laugh.
The tension in the lane cracked.
"Let’s move," Alex said over his shoulder. "We won’t be the only ones targeted tonight. If someone is trying to thin the competition before the hunt, they’ll have sent people after other suitors too. We need to be behind locked doors before anything else finds us."
They left the lane quickly, stepping over the bodies without ceremony, and disappeared into the dark streets of Ironhold.
---------
Three miles across the city, in a modest but well-appointed townhouse near the western gate, Lady Ashford sat alone in a dimly lit room.
A single candle burned on the table before her, casting sharp shadows across her angular features. She wore the same dark clothing she had worn at the banquet. She had not changed since returning from the McCoy estate two hours ago.
She had been sitting in this exact position since she walked through the door. Waiting. Hands folded. Back straight. The way she always waited.....with the patience of someone who had learned long ago that results came to those who sat still and let the world do the work.
A soft knock came at the door.
"Enter."
A thin man in nondescript clothing slipped inside and closed the door behind him. He stood at the edge of the candlelight, his face half in shadow.
"Report," Lady Ashford said.
The man clasped his hands behind his back. "Eight teams dispatched, my Lady. Five were successful."
"And the three that failed?"
"The Voss boy’s guards intercepted the attack before it reached him. His father employs former military men. They were armed, alert, and positioned along the route. Our men didn’t get within thirty paces."
"Expected," Lady Ashford said without inflection. "Harlan Voss did not build a trade empire by leaving his son unprotected. Continue."
"The second failure was Marcus Fell. He wasn’t on the route our informants indicated. He appears to have taken a different path from the banquet. Our men couldn’t locate him in time."
"Unfortunate, but inconsequential. Fell is not a threat. And the third?"
The thin man paused for a fraction of a second.
"Alex Carter."
Lady Ashford’s expression didn’t change.
"Our men engaged him in the lane between the temple district and the merchant quarter. Four men. All experienced. All dead."
"All four?" Lady Ashford’s eyebrow rose slightly. That was the closest she ever came to showing surprise. "Against a water merchant and his household servants?"
The thin man shifted his weight. He was choosing his words carefully.
"My Lady, the bodies were.....unusual. Three of the four had small, circular wounds. Clean entry points, roughly the width of a finger, punched straight through clothing, flesh, and bone. No blade makes a mark like that. No arrow either. Whatever struck them did so with enough force to pass entirely through the body in two cases. The wounds were.....instant. There was almost no sign of struggle."
He paused.
"And the fourth?"
"Same type of wound to the skull. But he also showed signs of self-inflicted poisoning. A capsule in the tooth. He killed himself before they could question him, and then Carter.....made sure."
Lady Ashford was quiet for several seconds.
"Interesting," she said finally.
There was no anger in her voice. No frustration. Just the cool, clinical assessment of a woman who had been playing political chess since before most of these suitors were born. She filed the information away....as a piece on the chess board whose value had not yet been fully determined.
"Anything else?"
"Twenty-three suitors entered the banquet this evening. As of tonight, five are confirmed dead or critically wounded. Eighteen remain to compete tomorrow."
"That is sufficient."
Lady Ashford rose from her chair. The candle flame flickered with the movement, sending shadows dancing across the walls.
"Remove all evidence connecting us to the attacks. Pay the surviving operatives double to ensure their silence. If their silence proves unreliable.....ensure it permanently."
"Yes, my Lady."
The thin man bowed, but he didn’t leave. He hesitated at the door.
"My Lady?"
"Hm?"
"And the Carter matter? Should we make a second attempt before dawn?"
Lady Ashford turned to face him. Her expression was calm. Almost amused.
"No. Leave him."
The thin man looked uncertain. "My Lady, if he possesses a weapon that our men couldn’t even identify....."
"I heard you the first time." Her voice was quiet, but it carried the kind of authority that made the thin man close his mouth immediately. "The water merchant was never our primary target. Dorian’s path to victory does not require Carter’s death. It merely required the field to be thinned."
She paused at the doorway.
"Besides.....a man who carries a weapon no one understands is far more useful alive than dead. Dead men answer no questions. Living ones eventually reveal everything."
The thin man bowed again, deeper this time.
"Understood, my Lady."
Lady Ashford turned and walked down the hallway toward her private study, her footsteps silent on the polished wooden floor.
Behind her, the candle guttered once, twice, and went out.