Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)-Chapter 343 - 337: Before the War

The room was dark except for the faint light from the bedside lamp, which was warm enough to dispel the clinical cold that still clung to the room’s corners and soft enough not to disturb. The scent of ether had faded, replaced by clean linen and the faint trace of the healing salve Dr. Marin left behind.

Damian slept.

Finally.

The antidote had dragged him down like a weight tethered to his spine, clumsy in a way that never belonged to the Emperor. He’d fought it, of course, tried to sit up twice, grumbled something about unfinished paperwork, and only relented when Gabriel leaned over him and whispered, "You swore you’d stay still."

Now he was a tangle of sharp limbs and breath-slowing exhaustion, shirt half-unbuttoned and brow furrowed even in sleep. His hand, though, his hand still held Gabriel’s, fingers slack but curled.

Gabriel sat beside him in the wide armchair, posture perfect, tablet in his lap and stylus in hand, as if he weren’t furious, as if his thoughts weren’t spiraling fast enough to draw blood.

He had promised he would stay.

He had not promised to sit idle.

The reports had been delivered two hours ago, a sealed folder placed quietly on the low table near him by one of the Shadows. Gregoris’s mark was on the corner, black ink pressed into the paper with an edge that meant we’ve started. Gabriel had broken the seal with calm fingers, careful not to disturb Damian’s sleep as he unfolded the pages.

And now...

Now his eyes flicked down the list of shifts, servant rotations, and ceremonial deliveries, painstakingly organized, cross-checked, and annotated with Irina’s narrow handwriting. Every detail aligned with precision that would have been admirable had it not now served as proof of how thoroughly the security net had been manipulated.

Someone had taken advantage of the Engagement Ceremony, of the increased focus on Gabriel himself, on his pregnancy, and on his supposed fragility to divert eyes away from the one person no one would dare to question. The Emperor. And they had done it with such subtlety, with such surgical timing, that it couldn’t have been a hopeful outsider.

They knew when Gregoris and Leslie would be absent. They knew which guards would be swapped. They knew Damian’s habits, the routines Gabriel had only learned because he lived beside them.

’This was not a guess. They knew when to strike.’

Gabriel let the tablet dim in his lap and leaned back, gaze lifting to the high, domed ceiling of the Emperor’s chambers, where etched lines of old runes and imperial sigils glinted faintly under the light. The bed beside him remained quiet, Damian’s breathing steady, though still unnaturally deep.

’I promised not to stain my hands for the child,’ Gabriel thought, eyes tracing the ceiling’s gilded edges, ’but that doesn’t mean I won’t give the order.’

There was no wrath in the thought.

Only clarity.

Tomorrow, Damian would wake with a bruised ego, a sore chest, and the will to make someone regret this with his usual flair for ruthless dramatics. He’d lean over Gabriel’s chair too early in the morning. He’d ask why Gabriel was frowning again. He’d kiss him until Gabriel forgot what he was working on. He’d be insufferable.

’He’d be alive.’

Gabriel allowed himself one slow breath, letting the tight coil of tension loosen just enough to keep his thoughts from spiraling.

’Just a few more hours.’

The fire whispered low against the stone, its glow softening nothing. Shadows stretched long, but Gabriel no longer trusted their shape.

From the hearth, movement slipped free, Edward, emerging not like a man entering a room, but like a sentence arriving at its conclusion. His steps made no sound. The way his coat moved suggested speed reined in by force of will alone.

He paused at the edge of the bed, eyes scanning Damian’s still form, then Gabriel, still upright, still alert, still coiled with fury he refused to let show.

"They didn’t leave the palace," Edward said quietly, the words sharper than they should’ve been at this hour. "We’ve confirmed it."

Gabriel didn’t speak, but his gaze locked onto Edward’s with immediate understanding.

"No identification was used," the butler continued, moving to set a sealed tablet beside him. "None of the staff checkpoints flagged an exit, and no ceremonial clearance was logged for the east wing. They’re here. "

Gabriel’s jaw set, but he didn’t move. "Are we sure it’s more than one?"

Edward’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. Something closer to disgust. "We are now."

"Gregoris and Alexander are leading the interrogations," Edward said, tone flat but laced with restrained satisfaction. "Captain Decker is with them. They’ve isolated the entire shift, and two of the kitchen runners from last week are missing, on paper, at least."

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth lifting just enough to show contempt rather than amusement. "Huh. Idiots. Idiots who thought we wouldn’t question our own men."

He set the tablet on the nightstand with deliberate care, his right hand still wrapped around Damian’s, the way one might hold a thread anchoring something precious to the world. Damian didn’t stir, but Gabriel’s grip didn’t falter.

"Did the court find out?"

Edward allowed himself the briefest breath of superiority. "No. Leslie gave the excuse of a full security restructuring and claimed His Majesty had been summoned to the Northern border and has already returned."

Gabriel hummed, soft and sardonic. "Of course he did."

"No one batted an eye," Edward added, adjusting his cuffs. "They’re used to sudden reassignments and fabricated emergencies by now. And to be frank, most of them are too busy gossiping about the engagement to notice anything else."

Gabriel didn’t reply. He was watching Damian again, the way his mate’s chest rose and fell in a rhythm that no longer terrified him but didn’t quite reassure him, either. Not yet.

He brushed a thumb along Damian’s knuckles, the motion barely more than a breath against skin, quiet for a moment longer before murmuring, "Make sure Irina is closely watched. If they find out she was one of the key players in tracing the breach—"

He didn’t finish the thought. He didn’t need to.

"They’ll come for her," Edward said, nodding once. "We already considered it. Her brothers would gut anyone who so much as looked at her wrong—three are Shadows, and the last is Astana."

Gabriel’s gaze didn’t shift. "Astana won’t act unless it’s an order."

"And Alexander is watching her," Edward added. "From a distance, so as not to draw attention. He’s covering her name in the reports. Her notes will be filed as mine."

Gabriel’s jaw relaxed slightly, though the tension didn’t ease from his spine. "Good. When the dust settles, I’ll make sure everyone knows it was her. But not before."

Edward inclined his head. "Understood."

The fire crackled once behind them, and Damian stirred faintly, his brow twitching in sleep, his breath still slower than usual, but steady.

Gabriel didn’t let go. He just leaned his head back against the velvet of the chair and said nothing more. Not yet. His war would come when Damian opened his eyes again.

The most uptodate nove𝙡s are published on fr(e)𝒆webnov(e)l.com