Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL) Chapter 158 - 153: Garden party (2)

A shadow moved near the terrace, long skirts in a modern cut of deep erald green, sleek and elegant, with a subtle shimr when it caught the light. Alexandra.

Gabriel’s eyes found her instantly.

Hair swept up in a sculpted twist, she wore high heels like they were weapons, a minimalist fan held like a prop rather than a necessity. Every inch of her presence was deliberate: not their mother’s severity, but sothing sharper, cooler, and lethal by design.

Relief unfurled in Gabriel’s chest like a withheld breath, sharp and fleeting. He didn’t let it show. He simply turned, deliberate and unhurried, each step laced with an almost royal poise.

He reached her with a faint tilt of his head, crystal glass still cradled elegantly in his fingers.

"You’re late," he murmured. "I’ve been left for dead. Not just by my partner but also by the butler."

Alexandra arched one perfectly grood brow, eyes glittering with amusent. "Oh, don’t be dramatic. You’re still upright, still beautiful, and holding alcohol in the morning. If that’s your version of death, you’ve been spoiled."

Gabriel took a asured sip from his glass. "I haven’t had coffee."

"Ah," she said, her voice heavy with faux sympathy. "A true national tragedy. Should I alert the imperial press?"

"He gave tea," Gabriel went on, lips curling just slightly. "Every day. Like a punishnt."

"Perhaps it was a punishnt," Alexandra offered. "You do have a habit of breaking furniture."

"How the fuck did you know about that?" Gabriel asked, surprised.

Alexandra didn’t even blink. "Language, please. Do you think Edward wouldn’t tell ? He practically recited it like scripture. Your brother, Duchess, shattered a mahogany heirloom chaise in a night. And then had the audacity to insult the upholstery."

Gabriel was at a loss for words. "How bored is he?"

"On a scale of one to polishing the Emperor’s ceremonial forks?" Alexandra mused, tapping her fan thoughtfully against her lip. "Sowhere between alphabetizing the linen records and staging a small coup in the servant’s wing."

"You are not helping. He scheduled my formal dical check-up at six in the morning. I was thinking of running away before he kills with a tea overdose."

Alexandra’s eyes sparkled with barely restrained laughter. "Oh, don’t be such a martyr. You’ve survived worse."

"I fought in a rebellion," Gabriel hissed.

"And yet sohow the butler is the greater threat." She leaned in, her voice conspiratorial. "Honestly, I think he enjoys seeing how far he can push you before you break sothing else."

Gabriel groaned. "He brought out old lady tea. The floral one. Said it would calm my mood swings."

"You do have mood swings."

"I have personality."

Alexandra gave him a pat on the arm. "You have trauma wrapped in designer robes, but let’s not split hairs."

He narrowed his eyes. "You’re awfully chipper this morning. Did Caelan send you here to babysit , or are you just avoiding Mother?"

"Both," she said brightly. "And I wanted to see if the Empire’s newest centerpiece was still standing. I must say, you’re doing well. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were enjoying the attention."

"I’m not."

"You’re glowing."

"I’m sweating."

"You’re glowing with threat," she clarified. "The nobles don’t know whether to curtsy or run."

Gabriel tilted his head. "Good. I hope they trip over the fruit platters trying to decide."

Alexandra laughed again, low and elegant. "That’s the spirit."

The breeze shifted, carrying the overly sweet scent of imported perfu and a hush that swept through the garden like anticipation.

Alexandra sighed without looking. "Well. Looks like the circus just added another act."

Gabriel didn’t move. "Let guess."

"Blonde. Blue silk. Smile carved from desperation."

"Anya," Gabriel said flatly.

"Correct. And she’s approaching like she thinks this is her debut."

Gabriel reached for his glass again. "White sparkling wine leaves no stains. Should I prepare for another slap?"

Alexandra’s lips curved, wicked and amused. "Only if you plan to dodge it. Though I admit, I was a little disappointed last ti. I had a front-row seat and everything, but the Emperor stopped her in the most dramatic fashion."

Gabriel sighed into his glass, the bubbles catching the light like tiny, traitorous stars. "Yes. Nothing says power couple like a mid-ball slap interception."

Alexandra grinned, unrepentant. "He caught her wrist like he was about to propose. You could hear the collective gasp from three provinces away."

"Sothing tells that she is the culprit for my life-changing events. Damian never seed interested in until then."

Alexandra blinked and then laughed, a rich, surprised sound that drew a few glances from nearby tables. She didn’t care.

"Oh, Gabriel," she said, fanning herself dramatically. "You’re saying Anya slapped you into a courtship?"

He arched a brow, deadpan. "I’m just saying, the tiline is suspicious."

Alexandra leaned in, eyes dancing. "So let get this straight. The ex-fiancée of your deceased best friend attempted to publicly humiliate you, and our Emperor, majestic and brooding, grabbed her hand like a tragic theater lead—and then decided he could not live without you."

Gabriel lifted his glass in mock salute. "The Empire runs on dramatics, sister."

He paused before saying, "I would have been in this position without her; Damian made that clear, but she had certainly sped up the process." The fact that my life is controlled by a general-turned-butler because of boredroom."

Alexandra exhaled through a grin, shaking her head slowly. "Ah, yes. The true hidden hand behind the Empire is boredom."

Gabriel gestured vaguely with his glass. "Not just boredom. Boardroom boredom. That’s worse. Everyone in that palace has too much power and too little to do. So naturally, the butler starts arranging fates."

"Edward doesn’t arrange fates," Alexandra said, lifting her brows. "He curates them."

Gabriel gave her a flat look. "He scheduled my dical checkup before dawn, chose my ceremonial robe without asking, and replaced my coffee with tea for the third day in a row."

"So dramatic."

Gabriel didn’t dignify that with a response. He simply turned his head slightly as Anya’s arrival cut through the garden like a blade of ice wrapped in satin.

She was nearly on them now, all pale blue silk and barely concealed calculation. The conversations around them dipped again, interest sharpening like knives hidden beneath napkins.

"Brace yourself," Gabriel murmured.