Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)-Chapter 352 - 346: National Incident

Gabriel raised his hands in mock surrender. "I didn’t stain my hands. I just gave orders."

Damian didn’t smile. Not really. But his jaw unclenched, just slightly. His steps were unhurried as he crossed the room, closing the space between them like he had all the time in the world and none to waste.

"Are you admitting guilt," he said lowly, "or bragging?"

Gabriel lowered his hands, fingers flexing slightly as he set the tablet down on the desk without breaking eye contact. "I’m reminding you I was merciful. I could have done worse."

Damian’s gaze flicked down briefly, catching the faint shadows under Gabriel’s eyes, the too-clean collar, and the telltale tension in his shoulders that meant he hadn’t rested again.

"Have breakfast with me." It wasn’t a suggestion or asking; it was an order.

Gabriel didn’t answer immediately. His brows lifted the way they always did when Damian tried to order him around, but the refusal never came. Not this time.

He glanced at the clock on the corner of the tablet, then back at Damian. "I have a meeting with Rafael and the internal team in twenty-three minutes."

"They can wait, as the rest of the palace did for me."

Gabriel arched a brow, lips twitching like he might say something sharp, but didn’t.

Damian stepped in closer, his presence like gravity. He placed his right hand on the small of Gabriel’s back, a touch firm enough to make a point, gentle enough not to invite resistance.

"We’re not eating in your office," he said. "You’ve earned a table and a real chair."

Gabriel exhaled through his nose, the sound almost amused. "And here I thought I was in charge of imperial efficiency."

"You are," Damian replied smoothly. "And I’m ensuring the Empress doesn’t faint from low blood sugar during a meeting with the internal team. That’s called delegation."

He didn’t wait for Gabriel to argue. He guided him out of the room with deliberate ease, ignoring the way Astana subtly slowed his steps to give them space and the way Christian muttered something suspiciously close to finally under his breath.

The palace corridors were still waking up, staff bowing as they passed, a few daring to glance longer than they should. But none of them missed the way the Emperor’s hand stayed right where it was, steady and possessive on the back of the most dangerous person in the room.

And Gabriel, despite his sigh and his still-tight shoulders, let him.

—

The breakfast room wasn’t one of the larger salons meant for ministers or nobles. This one was tucked behind their shared wing, meant for two, with a small round table set beside tall windows overlooking the mist-covered gardens. Sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, gold and soft, catching on the polished silver tray Edward had laid out before quietly disappearing.

Gabriel had already claimed the seat with the better view of the garden, his posture composed, his plate half full. The food was simple: warm flatbread folded with soft cheese, lightly roasted vegetables, and a single cup of coffee with just the right amount of milk. The kind of meal someone else had chosen because they noticed the weight loss he wouldn’t acknowledge.

Damian moved slower, the ache in his limbs dulled but still present. He didn’t speak as he sat, only reached for the slim tablet resting beside his cup, his fingers brushing over the seal on the case like he was grounding himself before lifting it.

Gabriel glanced at him from beneath his lashes. "I didn’t authorize anything beyond the containment orders. If you’re checking for betrayals, look elsewhere."

"I’m not checking because I don’t trust you." Damian’s voice was low. Not defensive, just tired. "I need to know what moved while I didn’t."

The tablet screen flickered on with a soft hum, the ether-bound interface scanning through secured entries. Gabriel said nothing as he reached for a sliver of pear, biting into it slowly while Damian read in silence.

Rosaline’s private archives had been seized. Five names already erased from the noble registry. Fourteen confirmed loyalists from Elliot’s circle removed from court, two facing full trials. The article about the poisoning had already reached international circulation.

"You moved fast," Damian murmured.

Gabriel tilted his head. "You would’ve done the same."

"You coordinated Rafael, Charles, Gregoris, the media, the Shadows—"

Gabriel didn’t even glance up as he cut through the soft pear with deliberate precision, his tone flat. "And I sedated you because you would’ve tried to do it bleeding."

Damian huffed, his fork paused halfway to his mouth. "I let you sedate me."

"True." Gabriel took a sip of his coffee, unbothered.

A long silence stretched between them, filled only by the faint rustle of curtains and the occasional tap from Damian’s tablet.

"You used the military seal on the media release," Damian noted, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful than reproachful.

Gabriel arched a brow. "It was a national attack. You think I should’ve signed it as a domestic incident?"

Damian didn’t answer immediately. He watched him for a moment longer, noting how easily Gabriel slipped back into eating between arguments, as if defending the Empire’s stability and buttering his toast required the same emotional bandwidth.

"You can deal with Hadeon and Donin," Gabriel said, reaching for a piece of bread without looking at him. "From the history Astana gave me, you already placed troops to occupy it. Quietly. Before the poisoning."

Damian’s fingers hovered over the edge of the tablet before setting it down, unread.

"Because I knew he’d run there," he said, voice low. "And I knew he’d be arrogant enough to think I wouldn’t."

Damian reached for his coffee and breakfast, movements smooth but slightly slower than usual, days of forced rest left a weight in his limbs and a sharp hunger in his chest that wasn’t just for food. He sipped, then bit into the toast, eyes on Gabriel the entire time.

"Hadeon thinks Elliot is still on his side," he said between bites. "And that he can use him to destabilize Pais."

Gabriel raised his eyes from his breakfast to meet Damian’s golden gaze.

"But I already warned David," Damian replied, calmly spreading jam across a second slice. "Told him, quite nicely, that if he doesn’t act soon, I’ll have no problem conquering them too."

Gabriel raised an unimpressed brow. "You call that nice?"

Damian’s smirk curled, slow and sharp. "I said it with a smile."

Gabriel hummed, stabbing a piece of fruit with his fork. "And here I thought I was the one being petty."

"You are," Damian said, leaning back in his chair, eyes fixed on Gabriel like he was still memorizing the details of his posture, his presence, and the quiet precision with which he rebuilt the world. "But at least you don’t lie about it."

Gabriel clicked his tongue and returned to buttering his toast. "I sent troops to Donin last night. They won’t engage unless provoked, but they’ve already sealed three of the southern passes. If Hadeon tries to push through, we’ll see him coming hours in advance."

"And Rosaline?"

Gabriel sipped his coffee, unhurried. "Bait. Hadeon plans to discard her. I plan to use that."

Damian’s fingers tapped once on the side of his mug. "Remind me to never doubt your cruelty again."

Gabriel glanced at him, dark eyes gleaming. "It’s not cruelty if they earned it."

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