Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)-Chapter 300 - 295: See the damage

The knock was crisp—too perfectly timed to be a coincidence.

Edward didn’t flinch. He just sighed, added a fourth set of cutlery with the mechanical grace of a man who had long accepted the inevitability of divine punishment, and muttered, "I should have set the table for five."

"Why five?" Max asked, mouth full.

"Because Irina’s probably attached to Alexandra’s hip like a decorative brooch," Gabriel answered, already pushing his plate aside like he knew the moment for peace had expired.

Damian didn’t move. "Let her in."

The guard entered, breathless, with the look of a man who had witnessed something far beyond his pay grade. "Lady Alexandra von Jaunez and Lady Irina Blake request an audience—"

"We’re having breakfast," Max interrupted. "They’re late."

Gabriel exhaled slowly through his nose. "They’ll still come in."

And they did.

The door flung open a moment later with theatrical flair that could only belong to his sister. Alexandra swept in wearing something green, sharp, and aggressively fashionable, trailed by Irina, who looked dangerously eager and completely unsuspicious of the tension in the room.

"You didn’t wait for us," Alexandra said without preamble.

"We didn’t think you’d bring a battalion," Max replied, nodding toward Irina like she was armed with perfume and a diplomatic agenda.

Irina beamed. "I brought tea."

Edward’s expression shifted into something that resembled actual concern.

Gabriel rubbed his temples.

Damian just picked up his spoon again. "Let’s finish eating before someone declares war at the table."

Edward handed out the last two plates with the patience of a saint and the dead-eyed acceptance of a man who’d already imagined five different escape routes. One included faking his own death.

Gabriel hadn’t even reached for his tea yet when Alexandra leaned forward like a storm about to break—except this time, her expression was too smug to be ominous. Irina, sitting beside her like a well-dressed echo, looked positively radiant.

"We come bearing good news," Alexandra announced, lifting her cup with imperial satisfaction.

"That’s debatable," Damian muttered, only half-listening as he stabbed a piece of egg with unnecessary precision.

"It’s not," Irina chirped, ever the optimist. "You’ve gone from scandal to sensation."

Gabriel arched an eyebrow, but Alexandra was already pulling out her tablet, unlocking it with a swipe, and spinning it toward him with a grin sharp enough to cut glass.

"Delphine worked her magic. And so did I. You’re welcome, by the way."

Gabriel stared at the headlines scrolling across the screen. The Imperial Omega: From Mystery to Monarch. A Love Written in Wards and War. Ceremony of the Century—The Empire Awaits.

He blinked. "They’re... reverent."

"They’re obsessed," Alexandra corrected, unabashed. "You’ve gone from dangerous enigma to tragic hero to unstoppable force of divine elegance."

"You made that one up," Max said, chewing lazily on a biscuit.

"Nope. That was in a fashion column. They think you revived court elegance by simply breathing, Gabriel."

"And everyone thinks that you are the couple of the century." Irina said, proud of her contribution.

Gabriel arched an eyebrow, unimpressed but visibly amused. "Couple of the century. How generous. I assume the bar was very low?"

"They also called your bond ’a symbol of renewal, resilience, and regality,’" Alexandra added, already halfway through flipping through a small stack of clippings she’d clearly been waiting to show. "Crista edited that one before it went to the main press, of course."

Damian groaned into his teacup. "Mother’s meddling again."

"She will come soon to visit the both of you." Said Alexandra while reaching for her cup of tea. "Her Majesty helped us with the civil examination and you," she pointed at Gabriel, "need only to be present for the examination."

Gabriel sighed like a man already burdened by the mere idea of public presence. "Wonderful. I’ll simply sit there and exist. Maybe glow a little, for dramatic effect."

Irina looked delighted. "You do glow. It’s not fair, honestly. Everyone else sweats under pressure. You shimmer."

Max didn’t even look up from buttering his toast. "That’s just the bond mark. And maybe the terrifying competence."

Gabriel made a vague gesture toward the sideboard. "I’m sure if you all keep complimenting me, Edward will bring out a crown and make me wear it through breakfast."

Edward, without missing a beat, replied from the doorway, "It’s being polished."

Damian choked on his tea.

Alexandra didn’t even blink. "Perfect. He’ll need it for the ceremony."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at the ceiling, as if silently negotiating with the gods—or maybe the support beams—to strike him down gently before another obligation could attach itself to his already overloaded schedule. "I’m going to regret bonding into this family."

"You already do," Damian muttered, not quite under his breath.

He rose from the table with a grace that suggested his fever was gone, or at the very least, that he’d decided to bully his body into cooperating through sheer imperial willpower. His movements were smooth again, the pain dulled enough not to show, but Gabriel still watched him closely.

Damian reached for his jacket, then glanced over his shoulder. "Max, follow me to the training grounds. I need to see the damage."

Max looked up from his tea, blinking as if he’d been dragged from a nap he hadn’t actually taken. "You make it sound like I broke something."

"You did," Damian said. "Possibly morale. Maybe the floor. Let’s find out."

With a theatrical sigh, Max set his cup down and stood, stretching like a cat who’d been resting in the sun all day instead of planning minor court-level espionage and keeping one eye on half the noble houses. "Fine. But if you pass out halfway through sparring, I’m not the one carrying you back."

Gabriel snorted. "That’s a lie. You’re the only one who could."

Damian didn’t answer, just smirked faintly and started toward the door. Max followed a beat later, posture relaxed, steps lazy—until the moment the guards weren’t looking. Then something in him shifted. His shoulders squared. His gaze sharpened. Gone was the court clown, the casually charming heir with too much time and too many knives. In his place walked someone perfectly capable of keeping pace with a man like Damian. Someone who had always been more than he let on.

Gabriel watched them go, then glanced at Alexandra and Irina. "How long do you think until they break something?"

Irina grinned. "Each other, probably."

Alexandra only sipped her tea. "I give it ten minutes."

"That reminds me, I never saw Damian or Max training. Do you want to see them?" Gabriel asked no one in particular.

Irina perked up immediately, eyes lighting with the kind of curiosity usually reserved for palace gossip or forbidden letters. "Absolutely. Are we allowed to?"

Gabriel tilted his head, considering. "Probably not."

Alexandra was already rising. "Which means we’re definitely going."