Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)
Chapter 99 - 94: The butler’s favorite (2)

Chapter 99: Chapter 94: The butler’s favorite (2)

Charles rolled his eyes. "It means something."

Edward finally broke his silence, responding with a smooth, unwavering tone. "It means I find Lord Gabriel interesting."

Gabriel clapped his hand across his chest in mock delight. "Ah, at last, recognition! I began to fear that I was just another shadow in these gilded halls."

Charles shook his head, clearly not impressed.

Edward, however, remained unfazed. He studied Gabriel for a long time before speaking again, his tone quieter but no less confident. "His Majesty chose your attire personally."

Gabriel paused at that. He had assumed that the garments would be fine, having been chosen with the usual precision and detachment by palace attendants. But why would Damian do it?

’I’ve been in the palace for less than a day. The palace is formidable, but even they are unable to produce new imperial robes in this short time. Gabriel reflected, and the G symbol he saw on his shirt in the morning came to mind.

’Gloria... is she an ally of Damian?’ Gabriel wondered, ignoring the two men waiting for him to say something.

"Edward, you broke him." Said Charles with a wide grin.

’I need to see what clothes he chose for today. If they are some old attire of his or Alexandra sent them, then I have nothing to worry about. But if Gloria’s signature is on new ones, then he planned for this long before our conversation on the balcony.’

Gabriel tilted his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "Nothing so dramatic. I was just thinking."

"Oh, no. Edward, just because I like you, I will tell you this: Do not let Gabriel think; he is only going to cause trouble."

Edward’s lips twitched, revealing a faint hint of amusement. "Trouble, you say?" His sharp gaze returned to Gabriel, as if weighing the significance of Charles’ words.

Gabriel only gave a mild smile, tilting his head in mock innocence. "I like to think of it as strategic contemplation."

Charles let out an exaggerated groan. "There it is, Edward; you have ruined the moment. He’s thinking again."

Edward’s only response was a polite nod, with the corners of his mouth showing the slightest hint of amusement. "A terrible fate, I’m sure."

Gabriel ignored them both, his fingers lightly brushing against his sleeves. He needed to actually see what had been chosen for him. If the garments showed any signs of Gloria’s touch, Damian’s decision had been made long before their balcony conversation.

Gloria was Damian’s only external connection who could help him with his measurements; Alexandra chose so many new clothes that he would be unable to recognize if he tried on the Emperor’s choices. However, he only had three options in his house colors, and he had already worn them all.

If it was only Alexandra’s doing and she sent the robes they made of each day of the ball, then there was no need for concern.

Yet something about the certainty in Edward’s voice lingered. ’His Majesty chose your outfit personally.’ It was an unnecessary detail to reveal, implying Edward did it on purpose.

’What in the hell did Damian plan? I chose to trust you, bastard, and it only took a day for me to regret it.’

—

The attendants worked with practiced precision, moving around Gabriel while preparing him for the ball. The scent of steam and fragrant oils lingered in the air, but Gabriel barely noticed it, his thoughts racing over the details Edward had so carelessly or perhaps purposefully revealed.

When the bath was finished, he stepped out and dried himself, his gaze drawn to the garments waiting for him. The robes were unmistakably imperial, elegant, perfectly tailored, and subtly embellished. Deep fabrics that carried the weight of presence without excessive grandeur.

Gabriel ran his fingers over them, scrutinizing every detail.

No embroidery. No visible insignia. No mark of Damian’s personal hand.

He allowed himself the faintest exhale, though suspicion remained coiled within him. If Gloria had been involved, it was not obvious. Perhaps Damian had refrained, or Gabriel frowned slightly; the Emperor had played a more subtle game than anticipated.

Still, he said nothing.

The attendants dressed him in layers of fine fabric, fastening clasps and adjusting the fit to perfection. The deep hues of purple and black, the house colors of von Jaunez, remained untouched. He never wore this imperial-style robe to the fitting. The palace attendants were extremely efficient.

And yet.

The thought lingered. Too easy.

—

The grand hall was alive with murmurs, as the court’s energy reached its peak. Gabriel moved through the corridor leading to the entrance with a composed posture and measured steps. The scent of polished stone and candle wax permeated the air, blending with the subtle perfume of nobility awaiting beyond the towering doors.

He was almost there when he became aware of a presence.

Damian.

The Emperor stood just before the entrance, waiting as if by chance, but Gabriel knew better. The way the surrounding nobles hushed in his presence, and Damian’s golden eyes fixed on him the moment he arrived, made it clear.

Gabriel stilled, his expression unreadable. "Your Majesty." His voice had a sharp, formal tone.

Damian took a step forward, gaze sweeping over him in quiet assessment. A brief glimmer of satisfaction appeared in his expression.

Gabriel met it with steady indifference.

"I see you approve of my choices," Damian whispered, his voice smooth.

Gabriel did not react. "I was under the impression my sister sent these." He wanted to test the waters; how much of Damian’s word could he believe?

Damian’s lips curled slightly, almost to a smirk. "Did she?"

Gabriel narrowed his eyes, but remained silent.

Damian extended his hand. "Shall we?"

Gabriel took a quick glance at it, anticipating the maneuver. He had anticipated some display, possibly an insistence on entering together or a casual possessive gesture. But he would not make it easy.

"I’m afraid I must decline," Gabriel said smoothly. "I have no plans to entertain such traditions tonight."

Damian’s gaze flickered with amusement, interest, and something sharper beneath. The refusal did not irritate him. If anything, it pleased him.

Gabriel had barely registered the shift when Damian moved, his fingers catching Gabriel’s hand purposefully, rather than forcefully.

And then a kiss.

Slow. Deliberate.

An emperor’s declaration was pressed against his knuckles with quiet finality, leaving no room for debate.

Gabriel maintained his outward composure, but the contact sent a different kind of awareness through him.

It was in that moment—he felt it.

The faintest texture under his sleeve.

Hidden. Subtle.

His breathing remained steady, but his fingers twitched slightly with the realization.

Embroidery.