Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)
Chapter 148 - 143: The new Empress (1)

Chapter 148: Chapter 143: The new Empress (1)

Max took his cue from Edward’s shift in focus and slid out of the hallway like smoke vanishing into shadow. He didn’t run, but he moved with the effortless grace of someone well-versed in escaping trouble just before it truly began.

Gabriel didn’t watch him go. His eyes remained fixed on the floor for a heartbeat longer, then lifted toward the retreating butler. Edward’s words lingered behind like a slap, but Gabriel didn’t flinch. Not outwardly.

He knew the palace, no, Damian would move quickly to place him in the Empress’ seat. His position on the Emperor’s right during the coming-of-age ball was the first obvious sign, followed by the omega nearly detonating due to ether overload, and now small annoying things are happening in the Empress’s wing. A place he wasn’t there yet.

The footman led him down the hall, Gabriel’s boots nearly silent on the polished stone until another pair echoed nearby.

Voices drifted ahead, low and clipped. One Gabriel recognized instantly.

"—I don’t care if it was minor. Find the gap. "We have procedures in place for a reason," Damian said, his voice crisp and commanding.

Gabriel’s spine tensed.

They turned the corner just as Damian approached from the opposite end of the corridor, accompanied by Astana, his ever-vigilant advisor, and Leslie Decker, a broad-shouldered man dressed in obsidian armor with a hawk-like gaze. His hand never moved away from the hilt at his waist.

Astana caught sight of Gabriel first and immediately halted. "Your Majesty—"

Damian was already looking.

Golden eyes locked with Gabriel’s across the space. The air shifted. Conversation ceased.

For a second, the grandeur of the palace, the polished floors, the servants holding their breath all of it faded beneath the silent exchange between Emperor and Empress-in-waiting.

Damian’s gaze dropped briefly to Gabriel’s fingers, still faintly stained with smoke. and then rose again, unreadable.

He closed the distance with long, deliberate strides.

Gabriel bowed in response; there were still people in the palace hall, and fortunately for him, his old self had learned and practiced proper palace etiquette until it became instinctive.

Damian didn’t acknowledge the bow immediately.

He stopped just in front of Gabriel, close enough that his scent—cool, steady, sharp like rain on steel—brushed against the warmth of Gabriel’s skin. It was his scent combined with the faint smell of Gabriel’s own pheromones. Pheromones that only his mate could feel now. Only for Damian. The silence stretched a moment too long.

The Emperor’s eyes softened as he looked at Gabriel; he had performed admirably in the Blue Ether Project meeting, and he felt a twinge of regret that he had to abandon it. And now that someone was messing with him, he approached him closer and slipped his right arm over Gabriel’s back, resting it on his waist.

"Your Majesty, there are people watching." Gabriel spoke while averting his gaze from Damian; his nape was red. A smile tugged at the Emperor’s lips.

Damian didn’t remove his hand. If anything, his grip on Gabriel’s waist became more deliberate—a silent claim dressed as casual familiarity.

"Let them," he murmured, just loud enough for Gabriel to hear. "They’ll talk no matter what we do."

Gabriel’s brow furrowed as his nape’s flush intensified. From farther down the hallway, he could sense eyes staring at them, guards standing motionless, servants feigning inattention. A court hungry for scandal, rumors, and power shifts.

He did not care about the rumors, but the feel of Damian’s hand on his waist, as well as his smell and heat, reminded him of other nights.

Before Gabriel could respond, Leslie Decker cleared his throat, his tone polite but pointed.

"Your Majesty," he said, "we’ve begun searching the East Wing and are reviewing kitchen logs. Last night’s prep team included an unauthorized steward, who was listed as part of another house’s staff. We’re tracking the breach."

"Do so quietly," Damian said, still not looking away from Gabriel. "No word of this leaves the East Wing."

Astana nodded as well. "We’ll contain it."

"Until then, you are to remain in my chambers." The Emperor said, looking down at his mate.

Gabriel sighed; he would been in the palace for a few days, and everyone else was in Damian’s quarters, either the study or the bedroom. He had a suspicion that Damian would not let him go, and he was correct.

"Be careful, Your Majesty; people will think you are hopelessly in love."

Damian didn’t move his hand from Gabriel’s waist. If anything, the weight settled more deliberately, like a quiet but possessive anchor.

"You are flushed," Damian said softly, his voice blending in with the hall’s polished silence. "Should I be concerned?"

"I am standing in a hallway," Gabriel said without looking at him, "wearing your scent and with your hand around my waist. Of course I’m flushed."

Damian leaned slightly closer. "I like it on you."

Gabriel turned his head, lips tight. "Do you ever stop?"

"Rarely. But you seem to enjoy it."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, the flush on his neck spreading into a dull pink across his cheeks. He glanced toward the footman still lingering in the distance and the guards who were clearly trying not to listen. "You’re making a scene."

"I’m making a statement," Damian corrected, low and amused. "One that says anyone looking to test the palace’s new Empress-in-waiting should reconsider."

"By flirting with me like a lovesick teenager?" Gabriel muttered.

"I’m not flirting," Damian said. "I’m warning them."

Gabriel opened his mouth to answer, but Astana stepped in smoothly, he voice sharp with practiced interruption.

"Your Majesty," he said, with just enough edge to slice through the tension, "the Fifth Tower meeting begins in ten minutes. The High Scholars don’t like to be kept waiting."

Damian didn’t so much as blink. "They can practice patience. It’s good for their egos."

Astana lifted a brow. "I’ll be sure to pass that along in the minutes when you’re not present."

Damian sighed theatrically and finally let go of Gabriel’s waist. "Fine. But I want him escorted back to the study. And guarded. Discreetly."

"I’m not an artifact," Gabriel muttered.

"No," Damian said, amused. "Artifacts get more protection."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "You’re hilarious."

"Tell me that again tonight," Damian replied, already turning away. "Preferably from the chaise lounge you traumatized."

Gabriel made a sound in his throat that could have been a groan or a laugh. "If you’re late for your council, I’m not covering for you."

Damian flashed him a lazy smile. "You’re terrible at lying."

Astana moved into step beside the Emperor with the kind of look that said, ’you’ve tried my patience and won again, damn you.’ As they walked off, Gabriel shook his head and turned in the opposite direction, heading back toward the Emperor’s wing.