Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)-Chapter 326 - 321: Lunch

"For scrutiny," Gloria replied. "War’s next."

Damian didn’t argue. He stepped forward just long enough to touch Gabriel’s shoulder—barely a graze, no pressure, but it sent a ripple of awareness down his mate’s spine nonetheless. His gaze lingered a moment longer on the rune-glow of the mark, then on Gabriel’s face. Something in his expression softened, just slightly, the way cracks soften molten stone before it cools into something permanent.

Then he turned.

"Edward," he said.

The butler was already moving, already two steps ahead. "The west wing exit is cleared. The Shadow detail is in place."

"Good." Damian didn’t look back as he left, his robe catching the light as he walked like a warning carried on silk. The weight of him receded, but not the silence he left behind.

Once the door closed, Gloria let out a dramatic breath.

"Well," she said, smoothing her skirt, "he really said ’mine’ with his whole soul, didn’t he?"

Alexandra was still seated, one leg crossed neatly over the other, stirring her tea as if nothing had happened. "He does that," she said. "You get used to it. Or you start drinking earlier."

Gabriel stepped down from the platform and gave Gloria a look that fell somewhere between gratitude and restrained homicide. "Are we done?"

"For now," she said brightly. "But I’ll need it back in three days. The embroidery will need reinforcement. And I still have to finish the lining for the ceremonial mantle." She gave him a once-over. "Don’t gain or lose anything. Just... maintain your current political stress weight."

"You make it sound like I’m on an imperial feeding schedule."

Alexandra sipped her tea. "You are."

Gabriel groaned.

Gloria carefully folded the measuring cloth into her case. Her gaze flicked toward the window, where the light had just begun to shift. "If I leave now, I can be back at the atelier before midday." She turned toward the door, then paused. "I’ll send the final concept sketches for the mantle tonight. Check them, don’t just nod."

"I’m not you," Gabriel replied. "I read things before approving them."

"You say that like it’s a flex," Gloria shot back, already halfway out the door. "See you in three days, Your Highness."

The door closed behind her with a very final click.

Alexandra set down her teacup and gave Gabriel a long, quiet look.

"Well," she said eventually. "You’re glowing."

"I noticed."

"You know," she added, her tone far too casual, "if you ever want me to stab someone in your name—subtly, of course—I do have a list of antique letter openers and nothing better to do."

Gabriel gave her a tired glance. "You can’t stab protocol."

Alexandra looked mildly disappointed. "Pity."

Edward cleared his throat again, clipboard in hand. "If there are no more fashion emergencies or glowing controversies, I suggest you eat something. Then rest."

"Sure."

Alexandra nearly dropped her cup.

Edward actually blinked—once, sharply, like his entire sense of reality had momentarily misaligned.

"...Sure?" Alexandra echoed, staring at her brother like he’d just volunteered for a poetry recital in full armor. "That’s it? No sarcasm? No death glare? No ’I’d rather eat a contract drafted by Lucius’?"

Gabriel gave an elegant shrug, fingers adjusting the sleeve of his robe. "I’m trying this new thing. It’s called survival. And I want something hearty and meaty."

Alexandra made a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a choke. "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"

Edward looked up from his clipboard, genuinely alarmed. "You want meat?"

Gabriel didn’t even flinch. "Yes. I want something red, seasoned, and violently satisfying."

Alexandra stared at him like he’d just suggested hosting the engagement ceremony in a pit fight arena. "Are you... craving?"

"No," Gabriel said flatly. Then, after a beat: "Maybe."

Edward’s pen paused mid-air, hovering over a line item. "...So we’ve reached the ’he admits it’ stage."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "If you suggest grilled chicken breast again, I will sabotage your socks."

Edward clicked his pen back in with surgical finality. "Very well. I’ll have the kitchen prepare the Emperor’s preferred lunch set, with double the meat and none of the passive-aggressive omega restrictions."

Gabriel nodded, satisfied.

Alexandra blinked. "Wait. You’re eating meat. You’re listening to Edward. You’re not threatening anyone except accessories. Are you, dare I say it, content?"

Gabriel turned to her slowly, expression dry. "I’m constantly glowing. Apparently marked like a divine ward. I’ve been fitted like a cursed relic and my entire engagement is a press nightmare with bonus embroidery."

He paused.

"But yes. I’m mildly content. For now." free𝑤ebnovel.com

Edward muttered something that might have been "send help" under his breath and started typing furiously into his tablet.

Gabriel caught the motion. "What are you doing?"

"Updating your medical file," Edward replied, tone clinical. "Under ’Miraculous Behavior: cravings acknowledged, meals requested, no bloodshed reported.’"

Gabriel sighed. "Damian killed somebody over the design you won’t let me see, didn’t he?"

Edward didn’t even blink. "Two somebodies. Possibly three, depending on how fast the last one bled out."

Alexandra let out a low whistle. "And that was just three hours ago."

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose like a man too tired to deal with empire-grade theatrics before breakfast. "Was it at least clean?"

Edward looked vaguely offended. "This is the imperial palace, not a cattle yard. Of course it was clean. The Shadows use solvent-resistant sheets now."

Gabriel dropped his hand and gave Edward a long, deadpan stare. "Did you just say that like it’s a selling point?"

"They’re reusable," Edward replied with quiet pride. "Environmentally sound and resistant to both blood and ether corrosion. Very sustainable."

"Alexandra, let’s get lunch. I don’t want to know what the deranged Emperor did."

Alexandra rose, gathering her shawl like a general preparing for war. "You say that now, but give it ten minutes and you’ll ask for details out of sheer morbid curiosity."

Gabriel gave her a sideways glance. "No. I’m going to eat steak like a normal person and pretend this day didn’t begin with embroidery threats and eco-friendly execution tarps."

"Steak," she repeated, drawing out the word like it was foreign. "You are glowing."

He didn’t dignify that with an answer—just turned on his heel and swept out of the room, the ceremonial robe fluttering behind him with all the subtlety of a war banner. Alexandra followed, all grace and smug silence.

Edward watched them go with a sigh. Then, as he keyed a note into his tablet, he muttered to himself, "If glowing is the baseline, I dread what radiant looks like."

He tapped in the lunch order confirmation, already anticipating the need for backup cutlery and coffee to keep the Empress from eviscerating the kitchen staff when they inevitably underseasoned the sauce.

Somewhere in the deeper corridors, a Shadow passed by with gloves still wet from their last task and nodded respectfully.

Edward nodded back. "Clean the south balcony," he murmured. "The Emperor was feeling symbolic this morning."

The Shadow didn’t ask for context. They knew better.

Meanwhile, Gabriel strode toward the study with Alexandra beside him, ignoring the nobles peeking from behind marble pillars and floral arrangements like curious rats in brocade.

"If anyone asks," Gabriel said calmly, "I’m glowing because of divine clarity, not due to a high-protein lunch."

"Of course," Alexandra said.