Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)-Chapter 289 - 284: You Should’ve Called

Gregoris approached the side of the bath but didn’t sit. Just stood there like a walking embodiment of disappointment.

Gregoris approached the side of the bath but didn’t sit. Just stood there—like a fully armed verdict in a pressed uniform.

"You realize," he said, "if you’d told us what you were planning, we could’ve shielded you. Buffer wards. Emergency pulls. Someone could’ve stood with you."

Damian’s jaw tightened. "That’s exactly why I didn’t."

Gregoris’s eyes narrowed.

"I didn’t want anyone near it," Damian continued, voice low but steady. "That kind of channeling—it looks for a path. It doesn’t care who. Every person within range becomes an option. And most of you would’ve lasted seconds."

"You think I care about the risk?"

"I do," Damian snapped. Then quieter, but still sharp: "I did the math. I knew I’d survive."

Gregoris froze.

Damian looked up, gaze unflinching. "I knew what I could handle. What my body could take. I knew I’d live. But I wasn’t sure anyone else would."

Silence. Heavy. Real.

"That’s not martyrdom," Damian said. "It’s logistics."

Gregoris stared at him for a long moment, then exhaled through his nose—slow, controlled. "You sound like him."

Damian blinked. "Gabriel?"

"No," Gregoris said. "Alexander. Back in the rebellion. Right before he burned out every nerve in his hands to protect your throne."

Damian’s lips parted, but no sound came out.

Gregoris’s tone didn’t shift, but the hurt was there. Ancient. Personal. "You two are terrifying in the same way. You survive because you plan your destruction like a war map. But that doesn’t make it easier to watch."

Damian didn’t answer.

He stared down at the rippling water instead, watching the shimmer of golden scars beneath the surface, his reward for surviving.

"I’m not telling Gabriel about the tingling," he said after a moment.

"Of course not," Gregoris replied dryly. "Because the man who once destroyed a noble’s entire political network over a single insult will be very reasonable when he finds out his mate can’t even hold a pen without twitching."

"I can hold a pen."

"You dropped your fork last night."

"I was tired."

"You cursed at the soap."

"I have nerve damage, not a personality shift," Damian snapped, and then immediately regretted it because his ribs flared in warning.

Gregoris didn’t flinch. Just tilted his head slightly, like he was cataloging that exact moment for future blackmail—or concern.

"You’re still twitching," he said, tone flat.

Damian glared at the water as if it had betrayed him. "It’s temporary."

"Marin said it might not be."

"I’m not telling Gabriel that either."

Gregoris crossed his arms again, expression unreadable. "You know, for someone who rebuilt the Empire from ashes, you’re remarkably bad at asking for help."

"I don’t need help," Damian said. "I need time."

"You’re not getting it," Gregoris said bluntly. "There’s a civil exam in two weeks, the engagement ceremony is being moved up, and Gabriel is already working twelve-hour days from a chair he only sits in because Edward threatens him with broth. The court is hanging on by threat and tea, and you—" he pointed at the water, at the still-pulsing lines of gold beneath it "—are floating in a marble bathtub pretending this is fine."

Damian closed his eyes. "Because if I say I’m not fine, he’ll break himself trying to fix it."

There it was.

Gregoris didn’t speak right away. Then, softer: "And if you lie to him, he’ll break anyway."

Damian pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and exhaled, voice cracking at the edge. "He has enough to worry about."

"Gregoris gave him a flat look. "That was not a complaint. That was a statement of fact laced with justified bitterness."

"You got to throw him through the wall," Damian pointed out.

"I had to throw him through the wall," Gregoris shot back. "Because someone decided diplomacy meant punching the stone floor hard enough to shatter four tiles and send the wards into crisis mode."

"I was angry."

"You were raging and so were we." Gregoris exhaled. "Next time, call. At least I can keep Gabriel away from danger."

Damian’s expression shifted—just slightly, but enough. The edge in his eyes dulled into something heavier. Regret, maybe. Or something worse. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

"You can scold me as much as you want, but we both know there was no other way. I’m not going to lose my mate and child to a ghost."

Gregoris raised a brow. "You’re a walking miracle with half the imperial wards rerouted through your nervous system. Forgive me if I think hiding side effects isn’t your best move."

Damian sank lower into the bath.

Gregoris stepped back, finally, but not before delivering the final blow with the precision of a soldier and the pity of a friend.

"Say the word, and I’ll file a training report," he said. "Let the world think you’re off-duty for a combat rotation. You don’t need to be seen broken."

Damian didn’t answer at first. Just stared at the far wall, steam curling lazily around him like it could shield him from the weight of it all.

"No. That would be easy to check. File it for rut and heat season; a week would be enough."

Gregoris blinked—just once—but it said everything.

Then his expression shifted from worried to understanding of Damian’s plan.

"Of course," he said quietly. "Covers both of you. No one will question reduced appearances or extra guards."

Damian nodded, slow and measured. "The fewer eyes on Gabriel right now, the better. If anyone sees a limp in my hand or his schedule thinning, they’ll start connecting things. If they think that is just us having fun in the bedroom and later announcing a pregnancy would give us time to see how the court moves. Astana can take the administrative part and give me only what requires my signature or seal."

Gregoris listened, arms crossed, posture still, the way he got when his mind was already calculating three steps ahead.

"You want them looking in the wrong direction," he said, more statement than question.

Damian nodded once. "Let them believe we’re distracted. Self-indulgent. It’ll soften the edges of Gabriel’s presence and dull their suspicions. People underestimate an omega in love. Let them."

"You realize half the court already thinks he’s the one in control," Gregoris muttered.

"I’m counting on it," Damian said, not without a glint of satisfaction. "Let them think he tamed me in bed. It’s better than them sniffing out the truth."

Gregoris’s lips twitched. "You’re leaning into the scandal angle."

"I’m protecting him," Damian said simply. "And I need to see who’s bold enough to test boundaries while they think we’re... otherwise occupied."

Gregoris sighed. "I’ll coordinate with Astana. He already pre-sorted your reports by seal and authorization. We’ll route the rest through Gabriel’s wing under his discretion."

"Good," Damian murmured. "He can delegate what he needs. Alexandra and Irina will keep the outer court distracted, especially if we let word slip about a potential scandalous engagement announcement."

Gregoris gave a short nod. "You’ve thought this through."

"I have time," Damian said. "And nothing fuels strategy like being too sore to lift a teacup."

Gregoris didn’t smile, but there was the faintest flicker of approval in his eyes. "You’re terrifying."

Damian sank slightly lower into the water with a sigh. "I’m efficient."

Gregoris turned toward the door. "I’ll start the rotation orders and reroute the meeting summons. Your calendar is now officially labeled ’unavailable—personal period’."

Damian cracked one eye open. "Did you really write that?"

Gregoris didn’t pause. "Marin did. I approved it."

Damian groaned. "Gabriel is going to frame it."

"Already did," Gregoris said as he walked out and closed the door behind him.