Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)-Chapter 246 - 241: Get ready for battle

"I remind you that this is the first official public appearance of the Emperor and his Consort outside the court. You are not staff tonight. You are representation."

Alexandra muttered, "We were civil servants an hour ago."

"And now you’re political artillery," Edward replied. "Kindly dress the part."

That’s when the protests began.

Julian closed his folder a little too loudly. "I assumed I’d be attending with my husband’s household. My formalwear is in the city."

Alexandra crossed her arms. "My things are at home. And if you think I’m wearing one of those scratchy imperial backups, I will throw it out a window."

Rafael tried not to look panicked. "I wasn’t even invited. My name’s not on any seating chart—I checked. I was told I’d be assisting with backlogged correspondence and not moving."

Only Irina looked calm, a faint smile playing on her lips as she continued organizing the red-marked forms.

"I brought my dress," she said simply. "Lady Crista insisted I be ready for anything."

Julian stared at her. "You brought a ball gown to work?"

Irina shrugged. "It’s court. You never know when someone’s going to get poisoned or promoted."

Alexandra groaned. "Why are you good at this?"

"I pay attention," Irina said, and Gabriel was almost certain she didn’t mean to sound smug.

Edward, completely unfazed by the rebellion blooming around him, straightened the folder in his arms and spoke with the quiet efficiency of an executioner.

"You will not be wearing anything from your households. That would defeat the purpose. I had your outfits delivered this morning, tailored to coordinate with His Grace."

That froze the room.

"You—what?" Julian said slowly.

Edward didn’t flinch. "Lady Serathine’s ball is not only a social event. It is political theater. The Consort’s debut outside the court proper. You are his selected department, the force behind the reforms, and now you will also be... visible."

He turned to Gabriel, who was watching with his arms folded and one brow raised.

"They’ll match your color palette," Edward added. "Midnight blue, obsidian, and silver detailing. Tailored. Pressed. House insignias removed."

Gabriel exhaled. "How coordinated are we talking?"

Edward looked at him like he’d asked if the sun was optional. "Enough that the court will remember it. And enough that they’ll know the new center of power doesn’t dress like a compromise."

Alexandra leaned back against the desk and muttered, "I’m afraid to ask how you found our measurements."

Edward looked at her, perfectly calm. "You shouldn’t be. Your brother lives in a palace."

Alexandra blinked. "That doesn’t explain anything."

Julian, suddenly suspicious, narrowed his eyes. "Was it Gloria?"

Edward inclined his head. "Among others."

"You used the tailors," Julian hissed, scandalized. "The fitting notes. You told them it was for government robes."

"They were government robes," Edward replied smoothly. "Technically. Just more fashionable."

Irina clapped once, delighted. "I told you never to underestimate Edward."

Rafael looked down at himself, genuinely unsettled. "Wait—mine too?"

Edward didn’t even bother answering.

"You measured us all without us noticing," Alexandra said, voice rising with equal parts awe and dread. "Is that legal?"

Gabriel didn’t look up from the scroll he was annotating. "It’s Edward. He’s above the law. And beneath it. And occasionally the reason it has a clause labeled ’Edward exception.’"

Julian set his tea down slowly. "Do we at least get to see these infamous outfits before we’re marched into the lions’ den?"

"They’ve been delivered to the dressing wing near the main entrance," Edward said, flipping open his planner with unbothered precision. "I scheduled thirty-five minutes for personal grooming and last-minute panic. I’ve already coordinated with the head of security—each of you has a designated car, driver, and security escort."

He didn’t even glance up.

"The Emperor will meet you at the main car."

There was a long pause.

Alexandra was the first to break it. "I’m sorry, what? We’re arriving like—like imperial delegates?"

"No," Edward said, still calm. "You’re arriving like the Consort’s chosen team. Arriving separately would dilute the message."

"What message?" Rafael asked faintly.

"That we do not serve tradition," Julian said dryly. "Tradition arrives on horseback. We arrive in matching black sedans with tailored collars and three kinds of passive aggression."

"Exactly," Edward replied, marking something in his planner with a flourish.

Gabriel finally stood, sliding the annotated scroll into his folder. "You’ll survive."

"I have a bad history with unannounced color palettes and imperial butlers," Alexandra muttered.

Edward didn’t glance up. "You looked exceptional last time. The press agreed."

Alexandra crossed her arms. "I am not just some girl from the West Wing you can dress up on a whim. I have a circle. A following. My own palette. Do you know what it does to my reputation to arrive coordinated without being told?"

Irina blinked. "You’re mad because the clothes are too good?"

"I’m mad," Alexandra said sharply, "because I was not consulted."

Julian, amused, stirred his tea. "She’s a social queen. This is equivalent to declaring war on her brand."

"I would’ve matched willingly," Alexandra continued, turning a narrow glare toward Gabriel. "But now it looks like I was dragged. There’s no narrative. No control."

Gabriel didn’t look the least bit apologetic. "You were dragged. And you’ll recover."

"I have followers, Gabe. They’ll demand answers."

"Then give them one," he said simply. "Tell them you started a movement."

That gave her a moment’s pause. Her fingers drummed once against her forearm, nails perfectly manicured, expression unreadable for all of two seconds.

"Fine," she said at last. "You’re lucky you’re my favorite little brother."

Gabriel didn’t even look up. "I’m the only one younger than you."

"And yet still the most high-maintenance," she shot back, turning on her heel toward the door. "If I have to coordinate my entrance with three civil servants and a recovering noble boy, I expect proper lighting, two compliments before the main hall, and a drink the moment I sit down."

Edward didn’t miss a beat. "That’s already been arranged."

She paused, gave him a narrowed look, then a regal nod. "Good. Then don’t ruin it."

Julian murmured under his breath, "And thus the first strike of the Alexandra Doctrine was signed in eyeliner and delivered in heels."

Irina snorted. "I’m just relieved I wore perfume today."

Gabriel closed the scroll in front of him and tucked it into his folder. "If we’re done declaring war on wardrobe logistics, I suggest we move before Edward begins counting the seconds out loud."

"I already am," Edward said dryly.