Free Web NovelChapter 78: Chapter 78 Many Distractions
_Author’s POV_
The Ashthorne mansion had not looked like this in years.
Every hall was lit properly, every surface attended to, flowers arranged in the specific way that communicated occasion without excess. The staff moved quietly, they were people who understood that the evening mattered and had prepared accordingly. Nana Seraphine had overseen every detail personally and it showed.
The ten young men arrived within the first half hour, each announced at the entrance and received by Celeste, who managed the introductions with the ease she always carried with her.
The first was Dorian Ashwell. Twenty-eight, second son of the Ashwell family whose territory bordered the eastern region. He had studied governance abroad and come back with a quietness about him that read as genuine rather than performed. He greeted Rowena with a respectful nod and didn’t overextend himself trying to make an impression, which itself made an impression.
Callum Frey arrived next. Tall, composed, from a family that had built its reputation over four generations in the healing arts. He had his mother’s eyes and his father’s handshake and he was, by any reasonable measure, an excellent candidate. He smiled at Rowena like a man who was genuinely pleased to be there and not performing the pleasure.
Then came Ezra Montclair, whose family held significant influence in the northern trade networks. He was charming in the easy natural way that people are charming when they aren’t trying to be, and he made Nana Seraphine laugh within the first five minutes of arriving, which immediately elevated him in the room’s general estimation. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ
Stellan Voss, no relation to Alaric, came fourth.
Younger than the others at twenty-six, serious in a way that suggested depth rather than severity. He had recently taken over management of his family’s scholarship foundation and spoke about it without being prompted, which told Rowena something about what he actually cared about.
The fifth was Reign Calloway. Broad-shouldered, unhurried, from a family with a long military history who had transitioned successfully into peacetime governance. He had the calm of someone who had been in difficult situations and had learned not to escalate unnecessarily. He looked at Rowena once, directly and without performance, and then spent a respectful amount of time talking to Nana Seraphine.
The remaining five were equally distinguished, equally genuine, equally the kind of men that under different circumstances and at a different point in Rowena’s life might have warranted serious consideration.
Rowena moved through the early part of the evening with the composed grace that Nana Seraphine and Celeste had spent the morning cultivating. She spoke to each man. She asked real questions and listened to the answers. She was present and appropriate and gave no one any reason to feel dismissed.
She also had one eye on the clock.
She needed the evening to proceed smoothly and conclude at a reasonable hour and she was managing it carefully.
She was in conversation with Callum Frey when the disruption arrived.
Pierre came through the entrance with energy.bHe was not on the guest list. He had not even been invited. He walked in anyway because Pierre operated on the consistent assumption that spaces he wanted to be in were spaces he belonged in regardless of what the list said.
Greg was behind him, which was where Greg usually was, slightly to the left and slightly behind, present enough to be company but removed enough to avoid direct accountability for whatever Pierre was about to do.
Pierre stopped in the middle of the room and looked at the assembled gathering with an expression that moved quickly from assessment to outrage.
Celeste appeared at his elbow with the speed of someone who had been watching the door.
"You weren’t invited," she pointed out.
"I should have been," Pierre said. He wasn’t keeping his voice down. "I should have been on that list. Do you understand what I’ve been through with her? What I’ve done? What I’ve shown?" He was looking past Celeste toward Rowena, who had become aware of the disruption and had turned to observe it with stillness of someone deciding how much energy it deserved. "She knows how I feel. She has always known how I feel. And she exempted me because I’m an Alpha? That’s the reason? I’m too good for the list?"
"You were exempted," Celeste said evenly, "because you were not selected. Those are different things."
"I have shown that woman more genuine feeling than any of these men have had the opportunity to show her," Pierre said, gesturing at the room in a way that was not particularly diplomatic given that the room contained ten men who could hear him clearly.
"Pierre." Greg put a hand on his arm.
Pierre shook it off.
Rowena crossed the room.
She stopped in front of Pierre and looked at him with an expression that was not unkind but was also not soft.
"You need to lower your voice," she said quietly. "And then you need to decide whether you’re going to leave politely or be escorted out. Those are the two options available to you right now."
Pierre looked at her in shock. Did she just......? Something in his face shifted between frustration and something more genuine underneath it, the actual feeling that was driving all of the noise.
"I deserved to be considered," he said quietly.
"I know you believe that," she said. "But this evening isn’t about what’s deserved. It’s about what I’ve chosen. And I didn’t choose to include you." She paused. "I’m sorry if that hurts. I mean that. But you being here right now doesn’t change it."
Pierre stood very still for a moment.
Then he stepped back. Not graciously, but he stepped back.
He found a position near the far end of the room and stayed there, arms crossed, watching. Greg stood beside him and said something low that Pierre didn’t respond to.
The room recalibrated. The ten young men, to their credit, had maintained their composure throughout.
Ezra had acquired a second glass of something and was looking at the ceiling clearly politely pretending to be somewhere else.
The evening resumed.
It had been running for almost two hours when the second disruption came.
Kaelen walked in.
He had told Virella there was an emergency at the patrol camp. He had said it looking directly at her, a day after she had lost their child, while she was still pale from it, and he had gotten into his car and driven to the Ashthorne mansion because whatever had happened in that bedroom, whatever he had said in the hours after, whatever he had promised in the low light of her recovery, some part of him had woken up that morning and decided it didn’t count yet.
He stood in the entrance of the banquet and looked at the room.
At the ten young men. At the flowers and the light.
Something moved across Kaelen’s face that had too many things in it to name cleanly.
He took a step forward.
Celeste moved to intercept him.
