Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)-Chapter 351 - 345: Consort Protocol

Damian woke alone, and that, more than the headache, set his temper on edge.

His first blink was slow, pupils adjusting to the late morning light filtering through the curtains. The second blink accompanied a groan, low and rasped. The third came with the realization that the bed was cold beside him.

Gabriel was gone.

His scent lingered, lavender, metal, and something warmer now, but the man himself had vanished. So had his tablet. And his coffee.

Damian lay there for exactly four seconds before he kicked off the linen cover and attempted to rise. Bad idea. The pain came back like a tide, controlled but not forgiving. His muscles twitched, and his hand went instinctively to his arm where the injector had left its mark.

He gritted his teeth. "Petty bastard." The sedative effects were still in his bones and muscles; he let Gabriel do it, of course he did, because he didn’t believe that his sweet mate would actually do it. But he did and left him alone. And he was even pettier than Gabriel.

"Your Majesty." Edward said while approaching the bed with a glass of water and pills on a silver tray.

Damian didn’t look at the tray right away. He looked at Edward instead with narrowed eyes, sharp and vaguely offended, like the betrayal of being drugged was somehow worsened by the efficiency with which it had been done.

"He left me," Damian muttered, voice gravel-thick. "Shot me like a feral dog and abandoned the crime scene."

Edward, unbothered, adjusted the pillow behind his back before placing the tray on the bedside table. "You let him do it."

"Where is Gabriel?"

Edward didn’t flinch, didn’t sigh, and didn’t soften. He simply refolded his hands behind his back like a man settling into a familiar routine. "In his office," he said, "where you told him not to be. Monitoring the ether channels. The signatures he isolated last night, led to three former aides and a diplomat with questionable loyalties. Two were arrested before sunrise. One fled to Donin Republica."

Damian’s jaw flexed. "Of course he went after them himself."

"You were unconscious."

"I was sedated so that he can move without someone telling him to sleep."

Damian rose from bed with more elegance than anyone could have expected from him and got to the bathroom to freshen himself up. He had a consort to scold and an Empire to run.

Edward didn’t stop him, just followed with the same level of calm that suggested he’d already prepared clothes, briefing notes, and the antidote Gabriel refused to let Damian touch more than once a day.

From behind the bathroom door, water could be heard running, followed by the distinct sound of glass being set down on marble.

"I assume he’s still ignoring calls," Damian said through the steam, voice sharp but clear.

"Only the ones from the Grand Duke of Pais and the foreign affairs council," Edward replied, stepping closer, his tone bone-dry. "Everyone else received a terrifyingly efficient memo this morning. It began with: ’You’ll address me as the Empress now. Do try to adjust.’"

Damian paused mid-button, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Took him long enough."

"He also attached a color-coded organizational chart, rewritten authority lines, and something resembling a threat in fine print."

Damian raised a brow. "Was it?"

"It said: ’Should you feel unfit to adjust, do feel free to vacate your position. We’ve replaced worse.’"

A low, satisfied hum left Damian’s throat. "That sounds like him."

"Yes," Edward replied evenly. "Efficient. Terrifying. And politely cruel."

The bathroom door clicked shut behind him not long after, steam already curling past the carved threshold. Damian peeled off his shirt in one fluid motion, every movement practiced and efficient despite the lingering soreness in his shoulders and spine.

The shower was cold at first, but Damian didn’t flinch. He stood under the icy spray until the last threads of sleep and sedative flushed from his system. Then, the temperature shifted to something tolerable, and he leaned forward, bracing one hand on the wall, the water trailing down his back like a second skin.

He didn’t rush.

The Empire could wait five more minutes.

When he emerged, wrapped in a thick black towel, hair slicked back, and golden eyes sharp again, Edward had already laid out a dark suit. Damian dressed without comment, pausing only to adjust the silver pin Gabriel had once called unnecessarily dramatic, which meant it was, of course, perfect.

He checked the time on his silver wristwatch.

Then the schedule.

Then the empty space beside his own name where Gabriel’s signature had appeared for the last three days.

"Where is he now?" Damian asked, his voice steady but not soft.

Edward, already anticipating the question, handed over a sealed folder. "Your consort has taken control of the ether network’s internal trace protocols and locked down Hadeon’s remaining domestic assets. He’s also attending the post-crisis military briefing in your stead. The Shadows are answering to him directly."

Damian’s hand stilled on the folder. Then, flatly, without emotion, "Good."

A beat.

"He didn’t eat this morning," Edward added. ƒrēenovelkiss.com

And that, more than war or betrayal, made Damian’s jaw tighten. "I’ll deal with that myself."

He fastened the last button of his shirt, took his blazer, and opened the door without another word.

—

Gabriel was mid-motion, tablet in hand, coat trailing behind him like a war banner as he turned down the corridor toward the Empress’s Office. His steps were sharp and efficient.

Astana nearly tripped trying to keep up, arms full of folders and three half-signed emergency decrees. "You haven’t eaten—"

"Send me the stats on Donin’s agricultural dependency," Gabriel cut in. "Not the summary, the raw input. I want to see what their distribution relied on before the subsidies started."

Christian was just behind them, looking far too entertained for someone trying to keep pace with imperial policy. "You know, it’s incredibly rude to skip sleep and breakfast when you’re—" He caught the warning glance from Gabriel and whistled low. "Alright. Tyrant mode it is."

They reached the doors to the office at the end of the hall. The guards straightened before he even spoke. Gabriel didn’t slow. He pushed the doors open—

And stopped.

Damian was already there.

Standing in the center of the office like he owned every breath of air inside it, coat unbuttoned, expression unreadable, but golden eyes locked on Gabriel like a tether pulled tight.

Astana immediately took a step back. "I forgot I had paperwork."

Christian raised a brow. "I didn’t." But he followed Astana anyway.

The doors closed behind them with a soft but definitive sound.

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