Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL) Chapter 102 - 97: Cold war (1)

The laughter of Edward, Max, and Gabriel echoed throughout the evening, light and unburdened, in stark contrast to the weight of expectation on the court. Their conversation had beco more casual, with the barriers between them dissolving into simple banter.

And all the while, Damian could only listen.

The Emperor remained seated beside Gabriel, forced to exchange pleasantries with the new class of nobles eager to introduce themselves. He was trapped in endless, rehearsed exchanges—family nas, ambitions, rehearsed flattery—while Gabriel sat not two feet away, utterly at ease, lost in conversation with his most trusted butler and a man he had no idea Gabriel had grown so comfortable with.

The worst part? It wasn’t defiance.

It wasn’t open rebellion.

It was disregard.

Gabriel was not fighting him. He was ignoring him.

And the court had taken notice.

Damian could feel their eyes, their curiosity, their whispers. They had anticipated tension, possibly even a clash of wills between the Emperor and his alleged consort. However, what they were witnessing was far more intriguing.

Gabriel had taken his seat next to the throne.

Despite this, he spoke with everyone except Damian, and they were unable to speculate openly. He could simply allow the Emperor to focus on the young adults instead of rebelling, and the majority of the nobles understood. Only a few people were able to catch Gabriel’s risky ga.

Edward, who was always sharp, picked up on the ga right away. He relished it, his amusent barely hidden behind his calm deanor. Max, on the other hand, had gone above and beyond, filling the space between them with his usual dramatic antics.

"So tell , Edward," Gabriel asked, swirling his wine. "Since you have so boldly abandoned your loyalties and declared your new favorite, I suppose that ans I can finally hear the real stories about His Majesty?"

Edward tilted his head, eyes glinting with mischief. "Ah, but would I live to tell them?"

Max leaned in, grinning. "If it’s treason, then consider complicit."

Gabriel smirked. "Then let us all et our fate together."

Edward humd, feigning deep thought. "Well, if I were to speak freely... I could say that His Majesty was a rather difficult child. Stubborn, proud, and prone to brooding if things did not go precisely as he wished."

Max nearly choked on his drink. "That is the most polite way of saying Damian was an absolute nightmare."

Gabriel arched a brow, the corner of his lips twitching. "Oh? So you do have experience handling him?"

Max placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. "I endure him."

Edward chuckled, shaking his head. "The Emperor has always had his own way of doing things. Even as a child, he held power over a room without needing to say a word."

Gabriel humd, taking a slow sip of his wine. "And what of those he liked?"

Edward smirked. "Ah. They had it worse."

Max burst into laughter. "That is so true."

Gabriel exhaled through his nose, amusent glinting in his dark eyes. He was already aware of Damian’s possessive nature, but hearing it expressed so clearly confird what he had been exploiting all evening.

And then...

A shadow fell across their small circle.

"Is this what my butler does during his spare ti?"

The voice was smooth, with an almost imperceptible edge to it.

Gabriel did not turn to face him.

Instead, he took another slow sip of his wine and looked at Edward, as if he were the one being addressed.

"Well, Edward?"

Edward, to his credit, did not so much as flinch. His mouth twitched in amusent before he inclined his head ever so slightly. "I was rely entertaining, Your Majesty."

Damian’s gaze flickered between them before settling on Max. "And you?"

Max, entirely unbothered, propped his chin on his hand and grinned. "I was mourning the loss of my title as Edward’s favorite."

Gabriel humd in agreent. "It is a tragic thing to fall from favor."

Max sighed dramatically. "Especially to you of all people."

Gabriel tilted his head. "Do you require ti to recover?"

Max huffed. "I may never recover."

More laughter.

Damian’s fingers curled against the armrest of his throne, slow and deliberate. The light in his golden eyes dimd, though his expression remained unreadable.

He had fought wars. Conquered kingdoms.

Yet here he was, left out of a conversation while Gabriel, his chosen consort and mate, pretended he did not exist.

Edward, ever-observant, smirked before gracefully rising from his seat. "If you’ll excuse , my lords, I must oversee the staff for the next course."

Gabriel dipped his head slightly. "Of course."

Max waved lazily. "Don’t be gone too long. I still have questions about my supposed fall from grace."

Edward gave a final glance at Damian before departing, his amusent barely hidden.

Gabriel turned to Max. "And what, exactly, was your standing in the court before all of this?"

Max stretched leisurely, his tone still dripping with humor. "Oh, I am but a humble businessman."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Humble. Right."

"Truly," Max insisted. "I am a simple man, undeserving of such oppression."

Gabriel shook his head, but his smirk remained.

Damian, who had been watching the entire exchange, finally exhaled through his nose. His patience had been tested many tis. But this? This was deliberate.

He would not call Gabriel out on it.

Not yet.

But the night was far from over.

And Gabriel had just challenged him.

The atmosphere in the grand hall had shifted, the weight of protocol easing as the formal greetings concluded. The Emperor had fulfilled his duty, allowing the gathered nobility their mont of recognition, their brief exchange of pleasantries and feigned admiration. Now, with the ball beginning in earnest, the focus would turn to revelry, to alliances forged through whispered conversations and asured glances across the dance floor.

Gabriel, seated beside Damian, finally turned his gaze upon him—not as a man, but as an Emperor.

"Your Majesty," he said, his tone cool and respectful, as if they had not spent the past hour locked in a silent battle of wills. "The formalities have concluded."

Damian studied him, his golden eyes unreadable. There was tension beneath the surface, coiled and waiting, but Gabriel did not acknowledge it.

"Indeed," Damian murmured.

Gabriel inclined his head slightly, every movent asured. "If you will permit , I will take my leave for a mont. There is a matter I wish to discuss with my brother."

Damian’s grip on his glass tightened for a brief mont, but it was only temporary.

"You may," the Emperor said, voice even, betraying nothing.