Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)

The next day did nothing to soften Gabriel's opinion of the nobility. By the time he stepped out of the hearing chamber, his patience was worn thin enough to tear, his jaw aching from the effort it had taken not to snap in a way that would have turned a legal dispute into a diplomatic incident.

It had been the sort of session that reminded him why his leave after Arik's birth had been a mercy. Three hours of a minor count arguing over land rights that the court records made plain weren't his to begin with, all dressed up in legal jargon and feigned outrage. If murder had been legal and consequence-free, Gabriel was fairly certain he would have left the hearing lighter by one noble.

The corridors back to his office felt longer than usual, the chill of the marble underfoot bleeding through even the thick carpet runners. He pushed the door open, expecting the quiet order he'd left behind.

Instead, he stepped into chaos.

Gloria was standing in the middle of the room like she owned it. Which, in matters of fabric and presentation, she arguably did. While David, the imperial tailor, circled one of his armchairs with a measuring tape like it had personally offended him. Bolts of fabric were propped against the desk, half a dozen swatches already laid out across the polished surface where his reports had been.

And, clustered on the far side of the room with an air of varying degrees of enjoyment, sat his Department of Spite. Rafael looked faintly entertained, Alexandra had the kind of grin that promised commentary he wouldn't appreciate, and Irina, wide-eyed and clearly cataloguing every detail, was perched forward in her seat like she'd just been invited to a private performance.

"This," Gabriel said flatly, closing the door behind him, "is my office."

"Not for the next two hours," Gloria replied without looking up from the shimmering length of silk she was holding against the light. "The Emperor has arranged for us to begin work on your coronation attire."

David glanced up, his expression somewhere between reverent and appraising. "We'll need you to stand, Your Grace. Preferably without the jacket."

Gabriel set his folder down on the only empty corner of the desk, eyeing the array of fabrics like they were part of a siege. "I see the invasion began early."

"Efficiency is key," Gloria said, unbothered. "His Majesty, the Emperor, insisted we start immediately."

From her seat, Alexandra smirked. "We're just here for moral support. And, you know, to make sure you can't escape."

Rafael lounged back in his chair, knowing that this was going to be either disastrous or entertaining. "I was promised there would be at least one tantrum worth witnessing."

Irina tilted her head, smiling as if this was all entirely reasonable. "We can take notes for the archives."

Of course they could.

—

Gabriel loosened his jacket but didn't remove it yet, fixing Gloria with the kind of look that usually made seasoned council members start offering excuses. "I assume this little ambush comes with more than fabric samples."

Gloria didn't even blink. "Three full outfits. One for the coronation itself, one for the procession, and one for the private dinner afterward. All signed off by the Emperor this morning."

Gabriel's brow arched. "Without consulting me."

"Consider this consulting," she said sweetly.

He turned his gaze to David. "And I suppose you've been given instructions on what I'll be wearing?"

David hesitated for the briefest second, which was enough. "We… have guidelines."

Rafael leaned forward slightly, sensing the shift. "Guidelines," he repeated, drawing the word out like it was a rare delicacy.

Alexandra propped her chin on her hand. "Go on, David. Tell him about the embroidery pattern that's already been approved."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed, his attention swinging back to the tailor. "Embroidery pattern?"

David cleared his throat. "The imperial crest, Your Grace. Modified to… ah, integrate your personal sigil. It was the Emperor's suggestion."

"I see." Gabriel slipped out of his jacket at last, folding it with precise caution and placing it over the back of his chair. "And will the Emperor also be selecting the flowers, the seating, and the guest list?"

"Yes," Irina said brightly, earning her a look from Rafael. She only smiled wider. "What? Everyone knows he's already doing it."

Gabriel's mouth curved, but it was the sharp-edged version that usually preceded someone else's very bad day. "Then perhaps I should stop pretending I have any say in this at all."

Alexandra's grin widened. "Oh no, you should absolutely keep pretending. It'll make the reveal more fun."

Gloria stepped forward with her measuring tape. "Arms out, Your Grace. The sooner we start, the sooner you can go back to dismantling nobles."

Gabriel lifted his arms without protest, the motion smooth and unhurried.

Gloria's brows arched faintly but she said nothing, the tape sliding around his shoulders in a series of swift, practiced movements.

Rafael tilted his head. "No fight? No speech about independence? This is unsettling."

"Why waste energy?" Gabriel said, watching Gloria work as if she were measuring someone else entirely. "Damian clearly intends to have the last word on the ceremony, and I've had a long enough day."

Alexandra leaned back, eyes narrowing. "You're enjoying this."

"I'm enjoying," Gabriel corrected, "that other people are handling the parts I have no patience for."

Irina gave a small, knowing nod. "Delegation is a sign of good leadership."

Rafael smirked. "Or surrender."

Gabriel's eyes slid to him, the faint curve of his mouth daring him to say more. "Be careful, Rafael, or I'll delegate you to be Gregoris's partner at the ceremony."

"But I can't," Rafael protested instantly, sitting up straighter like the words alone could create a barrier. "We aren't married, and I know the rule, you have to be married to participate in the same section."

Gabriel didn't miss a beat. "We can correct that. Gregoris would be happy."

Rafael actually choked on air, eyes going wide. "Happy? That man would hunt me through the palace like it's mating season! I can barely make it through a day without catching him lurking in a doorway, breathing like he's about to pounce."

Alexandra bit down on a laugh. "You'd survive the wedding, Rafael, but the honeymoon might kill you."

Irina's eyes lit with unholy glee. "I think it would be perfect. You'd look very… coordinated."

"Coordinated?!" Rafael threw his hands up. "I'd look buried. In an unmarked grave. Somewhere remote. With the cause of death listed as 'Gregoris.'"

"Occupational hazard," Gabriel said mildly, as Gloria pulled the last length of measuring tape away. "Didn't you commission that suit? The ivory one? To make him mad?"

Rafael froze for half a beat, then, utterly betraying his earlier panic, let a slow, almost wicked smirk pull at his mouth. "Maybe."

Alexandra stared at him like she'd just spotted a fox in the henhouse. "Oh, this is going to be fun."

Irina's eyes sparkled. "Wait, what's wrong with ivory?"

"Nothing," Rafael said smoothly, leaning back with the smug air of someone who'd just remembered they held a very sharp knife. "Except Gregoris hates it."