Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)-Chapter 380 - 374: No.

The next morning began with trumpet fanfare, three footmen arguing over chair placement, and Gabriel threatening to dissolve a noble house over ribbon texture.

Damian, wisely, stayed silent until he’d poured Gabriel’s tea.

The Coming-of-Age Ceremony had once been a modest affair: a tradition of presenting young heirs, commanders, and scholars to the Emperor for formal recognition. Now, with Damian on the throne and Gabriel at his side, it had become something else entirely.

A stage. A spectacle. A testing ground where alliances sharpened like blades under silk.

And this year, it was personal.

Not only was it the first anniversary of Damian claiming Gabriel publicly, but it was also the first time in decades that a dominant omega, seven months pregnant with the imperial heir, would be presiding over the ceremony as the Emperor’s consort.

Gabriel’s name had been written into every protocol.

And every House knew it.

—

The palace transformed with a speed that suggested fear, just enough to be useful. The grand receiving hall was dressed in crimson, ivory, and gold, with obsidian pillars flanking the procession aisle. Wax seals were prepared for each of the twenty-one-year-old candidates who would present themselves to the throne. Banners shifted subtly depending on the ranking and status of the approaching youth, House sigils, academic medallions, and military distinctions.

Gabriel reviewed every list personally.

"These two from House Everin," he said, eyes narrowing, "were named in that supply chain smuggling report from six months ago. If they want to present their second-borns, fine, but I want the investigative commission seated three rows behind them."

Damian leaned over his shoulder, reading the scroll upside down. "Are you planning to bless them or flay them?"

Gabriel’s mouth curved faintly. "Depends on their posture."

Damian hummed, kissed Gabriel’s temple, and settled into the nearby chair with a kind of practiced elegance that should have been impossible for someone built like a divine executioner. "And here I thought you’d be in the command room playing with Hadeon’s shard."

"I want to," Gabriel said, tone dry as a sun-baked field. "But Marin, and now an entire committee of doctors, specialists, and one incredibly nosy apothecary, have forbidden me from using any type of casting or ether channeling. They etched the order into the imperial ring to make sure I comply."

He raised his left hand, wiggling his fingers with a grimace. Sure enough, along the inner curve of the imperial signet glowed a fine set of etched runes, flickering every time his ether stirred too close to the surface.

Damian’s eyes narrowed. "They carved a compliance ward into your ring."

"They did," Gabriel confirmed. "Because apparently no one trusts me to follow a recovery plan after I threatened to sneak into the lab again."

Damian looked entirely unsurprised. "Did you threaten them before or after you tried to disassemble the ward prototype during the routine exam?"

Gabriel sniffed. "It was a very poorly shielded prototype."

Damian reached over and caught his wrist, bringing the ringed hand to his lips. "And what happens if you try to override it?"

"I’ll burn my own ether channels," Gabriel said matter-of-factly. "But only a little. Marin says my restraint is unconvincing."

"Marin is correct."

Gabriel huffed, slumping slightly against the cushion. "It doesn’t matter. I have time. After I give birth, the shard is mine."

Damian arched a brow, golden eyes sharp with amusement and something darker underneath. "I’m letting Hadeon marinate in his own sweat for another three months."

"Generous," Gabriel muttered. He closed the file in front of him with a snap and stared at the ceiling like it personally offended him. "Who would’ve believed that after you burned your ether channels to tether the shard to the Empire’s wards, it would reveal itself as a weapon?"

Damian’s gaze flicked to his hand, faint scars barely visible under the cuff of his sleeve. "It was always a weapon. It just needed the right blood to wake it."

Gabriel’s lips twisted. "Too bad I still can’t remember what the fuck I did before you took the capital over."

Damian went still. Not entirely, not obviously, but enough that Gabriel noticed.

He turned his head slowly. "You know something."

"I know many things," Damian replied evenly. "Most of which would make Marin faint."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "But this one?"

Damian didn’t respond. His silence was too still, too deliberate.

Gabriel sighed through his nose, sharp and restrained. "You aren’t going to tell me?"

"No," Damian said quietly. "We retrieved fragments from the Dominie lab before the rebellion. A few corrupted logs, some failed prototypes, remnants of something vast. But it’s scarce and incomplete at best. Guesswork. It would be better if you remembered it on your own."

Gabriel leaned back into the cushions again, rubbing a hand along the ridge of his stomach where their son shifted restlessly. He didn’t like it, he hated it, but Damian was right. Nothing would be more precise, more devastatingly clear, than if the memories returned naturally.

He stared at the fire for a long moment before speaking. "Can I...?"

"No."

The refusal was immediate. Not harsh, but absolute.

Gabriel blinked. "I didn’t even finish what I was saying."

Damian tilted his head, golden eyes narrowed slightly. "You were going to ask if I could search through your mind."

Gabriel raised a brow. "What if I was going to ask if I could search through yours?" frёewebηovel.cѳm

Damian gave him a flat look. "You weren’t."

Gabriel sighed, dramatic and deeply offended. "You don’t trust me."

"I prefer for you to be here, mad at me," Damian said evenly, "than like Anya, because I made a mistake and burned your mind to the ground. So no."

The words hung in the air, sharper than ether, heavier than the firelight that flickered between them.

Gabriel’s breath caught, just a little.

"You think I’d end up like her," he said softly, not a question.

"I think if I lose control of even one line of ether in your mind, I won’t get a second chance to fix it," Damian replied. "And you’re not some spy I can compartmentalize. You’re my mate. You’re you."

Gabriel looked down at his hand, at the faint flicker of the compliance rune etched into his ring. "You’d never hurt me like that."

"I wouldn’t intend to," Damian said. "But you taught me better than anyone, intentions don’t matter if the damage is already done."

That shut Gabriel up for a beat.

Then, slowly, he nodded. "Fine. No mind-diving. No ether pulls. No triggering Dominie fragments until after I’ve given birth and terrified at least three nobles into early retirement."

"Three?" Damian asked, lifting a brow.

"I’m being conservative."

Damian reached over and took Gabriel’s fingers, raising them to his lips. "Then I’ll be patient. For now."

Gabriel stared at him for a moment, the fire casting gold into his eyes. "Just don’t keep secrets from me forever."

"I won’t," Damian promised. "Only until the Empire doesn’t need both of us standing."

Gabriel hummed. "Coward."

"Strategist."

Gabriel let him kiss his fingers again, then muttered, "I’m still writing you out of the flower arrangements."

Damian smiled. "I expect nothing less."

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