Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)
Chapter 150 - 145: The new Empress (3)

Chapter 150: Chapter 145: The new Empress (3)

The steam still clung to the mirror when Gabriel stepped out of the shower, skin flushed from the heat, hair damp and curling slightly at the ends. The marble floor of Damian’s private bathing chamber was warm underfoot, enchantments humming quietly beneath its surface. The palace might’ve been a labyrinth of judgmental eyes and whispered politics but here, it felt like a retreat carved into stone and magic.

He took his time, toweling his hair and slipping into the soft, obsidian house robe laid out for him, Damian’s, unmistakably. It draped over his shoulders like second skin, subtly laced with the Emperor’s scent: cool, steel, cedarwood and something warm he couldn’t quite name.

He passed the seating area just as the main chamber doors opened without a knock.

Only one person entered Damian’s quarters without hesitation.

Edward. He mentally groaned; Edward had been irritated earlier by minor events in the Empress wing, and he suspected that he would rather flee to Ashmont than meet with him.

"Ah," the older man said with a half-smile, eyes flicking once over Gabriel’s appearance but never lingering. "You survived your shower. Good. Some of the consorts used to lock themselves in for hours when the Emperor allowed them in here."

"I’m not a consort," Gabriel said flatly, crossing to the low table in the sitting area. He chose not to address the other women in Damian’s room, but he could use the information later if necessary.

"No," Edward agreed smoothly, setting down the tea tray with perfect grace. "You’re the Empress-in-waiting."

Gabriel made a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan as he lowered himself into the armchair.

"Must you say it like that?"

Edward began pouring the tea, steam curling in delicate tendrils. "I must. You’ve been marked. You’re wearing his robe. You reside in his chambers. If I wait for you to catch up to the role, we’ll both be dust."

Gabriel accepted the tea, cradling the cup between his hands. "I thought he had the meeting with Theo and my father already," he muttered. "Why would I need to attend another one?"

"Because, dear boy," Edward said, flipping open a slim silver case with a stack of documents tucked neatly inside, "your presence is now symbolic. Strategic. And, unfortunately for you, legally required."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes.

"Damian met with the heads of House von Jaunez to secure the match. But now comes the official protocol: the familial acknowledgements, the social presentations, the oaths, and the shared vows before witnesses. And House von Jaunez is not the kind of family to leave such things to paperwork and gossip."

Gabriel exhaled, leaning back. "I don’t want to be paraded."

"Then walk like you own the parade," Edward replied easily. "It helps."

Another pause as he poured his own tea.

"And may I add," Edward continued, eyes gleaming, "this is the first time in three generations I’ve been allowed to plan a mating ceremony, not just a wedding. A mating bond, Gabriel. Do you understand the sheer amount of ceremonial nonsense I’ve kept archived for this exact moment?"

Gabriel gave him a wary glance. "That’s a little terrifying. "

"Oh, you have no idea. I’ve already updated the rituals. We’re including both modern protocol and traditional mate rites, blended into something tolerable, naturally." He smiled, too pleased. "The Temple has been notified. They’ll expect a visit before the full moon."

Gabriel groaned into his tea. That meant days at best; he expected to begin with some lessons and introductions, but the butler, his new adversary, appeared to want the marriage to take place tomorrow if possible. He understands now where Damian took his temper.

"Also," Edward said, "the head maid of the Empress’s wing will arrive at second bell to meet you. She has questions about your preferred layout, staff selection, daily preferences, and guest policy."

"Guest policy?"

"You’ll be expected to host teas. Courtiers. Visiting foreign emissaries. Possibly weddings or name-day events for your future children—depending on how productive you two become."

Gabriel choked on his tea. The man was full of surprises today.

Edward waited patiently.

"Good," he said once Gabriel recovered. "She will also help you transition into your social role."

Gabriel frowned. "Social role?"

"You need a circle," Edward said. "A spouse without friends is a monarch’s weakness. And you, my dear boy, currently have only me. And Max, who doesn’t count because he’s more dangerous than helpful."

Gabriel eyed him. "So what, I need a flock of silk-robed flatterers and schemers now?"

"Precisely. However, if you want to avoid flatterers and schemers, you must charm those with loyalty and teeth. Anabelle Sinclair and Gloria are a good start, but you need more."

Gabriel snorted. "Anabelle would eat me alive."

"Yes," Edward said, sipping his tea. "But she respects people who bite back."

He rose smoothly, collecting a clipboard from one of the enchanted end tables. "You have two hours of peace. Then the tailor arrives for measurements. After that, a language tutor to rehearse ceremonial phrasing in Old Imperial. Then your mother and sister. I recommend a second shower and perhaps a prayer."

Gabriel blinked. "Why the tutor?"

"You must vow in the old tongue, and preferably not embarrass His Majesty by mispronouncing his soul title in public."

Gabriel stood slowly, rubbing his temple. "How did you survive doing this job for so long?"

Edward grinned.

"I drink. And now, so do you."

He turned to leave but paused at the threshold as if suddenly struck by a detail that had to be voiced.

"Oh—and be aware," he said in a deceptively casual tone, "it is now five of the clock in the evening."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "And?"

Edward’s smile widened just slightly. "Your schedule is late by exactly twenty-seven minutes."

Then, without saying another word, he vanished through the door, like the ghost of protocol.

Gabriel stared after him with only a thought in his mind. ’I should’ve chosen George. Work is easier to deal with than this nonsense.’

And sipped his tea like it might kill him.