Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)-Chapter 388 - 382: Recovery

The chamber was too bright for Gabriel’s taste.

Morning sun spilled in through the tall arched windows, filtered by gauzy curtains that did little to dim the warmth. He lay back against the cushioned settee, robe parted at the collar, one arm draped lazily over a pillow as if this were some luxurious portrait session and not the weekly intrusion of a physician who took nothing at face value.

Marin did not bow when he entered. He nodded once, eyes already cataloguing posture, breath rate, pallor, and every unspoken warning the body could whisper to someone trained to listen.

"You look pale," he said.

"I just gave birth to an heir one week ago," Gabriel replied dryly. "Would you prefer I glowed?"

Marin didn’t smile, but one corner of his mouth twitched. He set down the leather case by the low table and rolled up his sleeves. "You’re sharper today. That’s either a good sign or a very bad one."

Gabriel offered his wrist without protest. "That depends. Are you about to tell me I’m forbidden from ether use until I fully recover?"

Marin took Gabriel’s wrist gently, his fingers steady and cool against skin still recovering from sleepless nights and imperial weight. He counted heartbeats in silence, gaze flicking to Gabriel’s pupils and breath pattern with that same clinical detachment that made even princes sit straighter.

"I was going to wait until after I confirmed the status of your ether channels," he said, voice level. "But if you’re fishing for permission, the answer is not yet."

Gabriel groaned and dropped his head back against the cushion. "How tragic. I suppose I’ll survive a few more days of letting Damian do all the threatening."

"You’re not surviving," Marin corrected. "You’re recovering. And doing it remarkably well, which is what concerns me."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "I thought that would be cause for celebration."

"It would, if you weren’t you."

Marin reached into the leather case and withdrew a small ether diagnostic disc. He held it over Gabriel’s abdomen, watching the web of glowing veins pulse faintly beneath the surface of his skin. The pattern was clean, with no erratic flares and no signs of overdraw or internal collapse.

But it was bright.

Too bright.

Marin tilted the lens, brows furrowing. "Your ether circulation is accelerating. Not dangerously but enough that it’s responding to external stimuli."

"Define stimuli," Gabriel said, but his tone had already dropped. He knew.

Marin glanced up at him. "The child."

Gabriel didn’t answer immediately. Then he smiled, just barely. "He only takes what he needs."

"Perhaps," Marin said, pulling the lens away. "But what he needs... is you. Your system is syncing to his already, and that’s not something we usually see this early."

Gabriel gave a small, unreadable hum.

Marin packed the lens away but didn’t stand. "You are not to resume field decisions, court audiences, or ether manipulation until I approve it formally in writing."

"I see. And if I disobey?" Gabriel asked, his voice like silk wrapped around steel.

Marin met his gaze without the faintest flinch. "Then I’ll call in the entire medical board, the same one I’ve kept at bay for your sake. You’ll be subjected to daily evaluations by no less than five specialists, all of whom will require written reports, signatures, and detailed compliance logs."

Gabriel blinked, slow and unimpressed. "That sounds like a threat."

Marin’s tone didn’t change. "It’s a professional intervention."

Gabriel’s lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "You do realize you’re inviting war into my recovery chamber."

Marin crouched to pack his instruments, carefully aligning the vials and tools in their fitted grooves. "If it keeps you breathing long enough to win the real war, I’m willing to risk it."

Gabriel exhaled through his nose, quietly resigned. "I’ll behave."

"For two more weeks," Marin corrected without looking up. "Then you can start ether training again, under supervision. But if I so much as hear about phantom headaches, numb fingers, or unstable concentration—"

"Your Emperor would put me in bed before any of you had the chance," Gabriel drawled, not even trying to sound repentant.

Marin finally straightened, arching a brow. "He might, but I’d have the medical order to back it."

Gabriel smirked and raised his hands in mock surrender. "I’m honest." He exhaled, the defiance draining just a fraction. "I want to be there for my child and my mate. I may be stubborn, but I’m not stupid."

Marin studied him for a beat longer, the kind of silence that wasn’t judgmental, just exacting. Then he nodded once, brisk and final. "Good. Then let’s keep it that way."

He turned toward the door but paused at the threshold.

"I’ll be back in three days," he said over his shoulder. "Don’t make me bring backup."

Gabriel sighed dramatically as the door clicked shut behind him. "You threaten me with armies and medics alike," he muttered, reclining deeper into the cushions. "What a life."

A moment later, the inner door creaked open, not the formal one, but the one that connected to the nursery.

Soft footsteps, too deliberate to be a servant’s.

Then Damian appeared, holding Arik with one arm like it was something he’d done every day of his life.

He was shirtless, his skin still damp from the shower, hair slicked back and darker from water, a single lock curling defiantly at his temple. A towel clung low on his hips, scandalously low, the white fabric a sharp contrast against golden skin and lean muscle.

Temptation incarnate.

The soft weight of Arik, swaddled in a deep blue wrap embroidered with faint golden threads, seemed almost comical in the arms of a man who could level fortresses with a flick of his hand and a well-placed order.

Gabriel stared, eyes narrowing in faux scrutiny. "Is this how we’re dressing for visits to the nursery now?"

Damian gave him a lazy smile, entirely unrepentant. "I was in a rush. He cried."

"And your solution was to bring him here wrapped in diplomatic embroidery and nothing else on yourself?"

"I was under the impression that you like it," Damian replied, walking closer like his towel wasn’t already committing treason. "Besides, he stopped crying the second I picked him up. I believe I’m his favorite."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him with the smallest twitch. "I do like it. Doesn’t mean I approve of you weaponizing it this early in the morning."

Damian reached the chaise and sat beside him with ease, the towel holding on for dear life. Arik squirmed once, then settled again, nose buried in the crook of his father’s neck like it was his rightful throne.

"I’m not weaponizing anything," Damian murmured, voice dangerously smooth. "I’m just making parenting... memorable."

Gabriel gave him a look. "You’re shirtless, half-wrapped in linen, and glistening."

"You make it sound obscene."

"It is obscene." Gabriel’s gaze dropped once, just once, then returned, sharper. "And you’re enjoying it."

Arik let out a content sigh, pressing his tiny face against the curve of Damian’s shoulder.

Damian leaned in, brushing a kiss against Gabriel’s temple. "If I am, it’s because my mate is watching me like I’m dessert."

Gabriel huffed. "I have two more weeks of recovery. Let me enjoy them in peace."

Updated from fr𝒆ewebnov𝒆l.(c)om