Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)-Chapter 386 - 380: Give me the list

Gabriel exhaled, eyes still on the bundle in his arms. Of course the nobles were already trying to align themselves with the most important child in the Empire. He had expected it.

"Let them," he murmured. "I’m still on recovery and rest..."

He trailed off.

Alexandra glanced at him, one brow rising. "What?"

"I promised Damian I wouldn’t shed blood while pregnant." A slow, wicked smile curved his lips as he tilted his head. "I’m not pregnant anymore." freewebnøvel_com

Alexandra laughed softly, the kind of sound that should’ve echoed through halls lined with knives. "Should I start a list?"

"Start with the ones who sent ceremonial wine. I’m breastfeeding."

"Noted."

"You can give me the list," came Damian’s voice from the doorway, smooth as shadow on stone. "Gregoris is in a bad mood and would be grateful to do anything to take his mind off Rafael."

Gabriel didn’t turn immediately. The shift in the room said enough. Power rarely announced itself twice.

Damian stepped into the chamber like he owned the silence, dressed criminally simple in a black suit that fit perfectly. His cream shirt was open at the collar, and his hair, now shoulder-length, was pinned back with a single gold clasp that gleamed like a war medal.

He looked less like an emperor and more like something empires were built to worship.

Gabriel arched a brow. "You’re going to offer Gregoris a kill list as a distraction?"

Damian’s mouth curved. "Would you prefer I offered him tea and gossip?"

Without waiting for permission, though Gabriel would’ve given it, Damian stepped closer, his movements slow and careful, as if he were approaching something holy. He eased Arik from Gabriel’s arms with the practiced care of someone who had already done this as much as he could the past days. The child gave a soft huff of protest, his small face scrunching briefly before relaxing again.

He nudged against Damian’s chest, rooting instinctively for the scent he already knew, pressing his cheek into the crisp fabric of the cream shirt like it was armor spun from comfort and claim.

Gabriel watched, propped slightly on the cushions, one arm folded under his head. "He’s already memorized you."

"He’s mine," Damian said simply, as if the universe hadn’t already known. His hand curled protectively around the infant’s back. "He should."

Alexandra made a quiet sound of mock offense from across the room. "You two act like the rest of us didn’t spend weeks babysitting your moods while this one," she gestured at Arik with her teacup, "decided to arrive early and glowing."

Gabriel smiled, though it barely touched the fatigue under his eyes. "Glowing, imperial, and a magnet for assassination attempts. He’s already an heir."

"Gregoris is going to train him personally, isn’t he?" Alexandra asked, not looking up.

Damian didn’t answer, but the way his hand shifted just slightly, closer, firmer, safer, was all the confirmation needed.

Gabriel sighed. "At least make sure Gregoris doesn’t teach him how to smirk like that. The Empire can’t survive two of you."

—

The chamber had quieted after Alexandra left, the scent of her perfume still lingering faintly like a ghost of laughter and too-honest truths.

Outside, the day was softening into dusk, light sinking low over the imperial gardens, shadows stretching long across marble floors veined with gold. The heavy drapes had been drawn halfway, letting in just enough of the violet sky to make the lamplight feel like something sacred instead of staged.

Gabriel hadn’t moved from the chaise. He didn’t need to. His body was still recovering, and for once, no one expected him to be anything other than still. Not a consort, not a strategist, not the half of the Empire holding back chaos with a glance. Just... still. Human.

The sound of water trickling in the next room was faint, followed by the low rustle of cloth, the kind of quiet that marked Damian’s presence. And when he returned, barefoot, hair damp and darker from the bath, his black dinner jacket loose at the collar, Gabriel’s breath hitched for no reason he’d admit aloud.

"You bathed," Gabriel said, without looking up from the book he wasn’t really reading.

"I was covered in politics," Damian replied smoothly. "Didn’t want to bring that to dinner."

He crossed the room in a few slow strides, the hush of bare feet against stone more intimate than anything else. He didn’t ask to sit. He just dropped down beside Gabriel on the chaise, not crowding, but close enough to share the quiet.

Gabriel turned a page, then closed the book entirely.

"The baby’s asleep," he said after a beat. "For now."

"I know." Damian’s voice had a weight to it, but not the heavy kind. Something grounded. Certain. "I checked before I came in. He has your mouth."

Gabriel huffed. "He has your eyes. I think that’s enough chaos."

Silence fell between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It never had been.

Gabriel shifted, just enough to rest his head against Damian’s shoulder. He could still smell the remnants of the lavender oil their staff used, threaded beneath his mate’s natural scent.

"Did you eat already?" Gabriel murmured.

"No," Damian said. "I wanted to eat with you."

Gabriel let out a tired sigh. "You always say that like it’s a romantic gesture. You just don’t trust the food unless I taste it first."

Damian’s mouth curved, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, he reached for the bell near the side table. "Let them bring it up."

Gabriel hummed in response, eyes still half-lidded from the warmth of the bath and the rare peace that had settled like silk over the room.

The door opened almost silently.

Edward entered like a shadow cut from discipline, no rustle, no scent out of place, his coat sharp enough to pass inspection by a war council. He gave a brief nod to both of them and began directing the attendants with crisp, soundless gestures, moving like the space belonged to him.

The table was set quickly. Silver domes placed with precision, linens smooth as the surface of a blade, wine uncorked without a single note of flourish. No one spoke. No one dared.

Gabriel didn’t even glance at the dishes. He only watched Edward.

When the last tray was positioned and the servers stepped back, Edward moved to the edge of the room and dismissed them with a motion so clean it bordered on imperial decree. The door clicked shut behind the last one.

Then he stayed.

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