Chapter 56: Ties (2)

The tension in the ballroom did not dissipate even as Anya lowered herself into a curtsy. If anything, the air became thicker, coiling like a serpent around those who remained focused on the conflict. The nobles, ever the opportunists, exchanged sidelong glances and whispered speculations.

Gabriel did not need to hear them to know what they were saying.

'Fucking hypocrites. They would talk about anything to get access to important parties and events.' He could feel his head throbbing from the rumors and problems that these events would create. 

The foreign princess, the Emperor, and the man who was at the heart of the rebellion but managed to escape unharmed.

Anya's words had done their job. She did not need to accuse him directly; she would planted the seed, and the court would water it.

'Predictable.'

Gabriel held back the urge to scoff, his fingers tightening on the edge of the table beside him. He expected her to pull something, but not so quickly and not in front of Damian himself. 

His gaze shifted to Damian, whose golden eyes were unreadable and fixed on Anya like a predator assessing a nuisance rather than a threat.

'He is playing with her. Damian clearly knows something. How could I be a traitor if the person I helped was Damian? Is she even real?' 

"I am glad to hear that, Princess," Damian said finally, his voice slow and deliberate, each syllable measured as if weighing its impact. "I would hate for a misunderstanding to sour your visit."

There was a brief but significant pause. Anya straightened and smiled thinly, in a fluid movement that almost seemed rehearsed. "Of course, Your Majesty. I would not wish to disrespect your generosity."

A lie. They both knew it.

Damian's lips twitched as though he found her words amusing. "Good."

The conversation was over. Anya was already aware of this. The court knew it. But before she could leave, Damian finally turned his attention to Gabriel.

Gabriel stilled. 'Oh, no. Fuck it.'

His spine straightened instinctively, but he knew it was pointless. Damian's scrutiny felt almost tangible, like a force that wrapped around him and would not let go. The Emperor had been watching him since Anya made her insinuation, and he was not about to let Gabriel go now.

'This again…'

Gabriel swallowed his irritation and maintained an impassive expression even as Damian's full attention was drawn to him. It was not just the weight of his gaze, but also the manner in which he looked at him. Not as an accused man needing defense. Not even as an equal. But as something that belonged to him.

The realization sent an involuntary shiver down Gabriel's spine.

'Fuck it. No!' He screamed inside. Another alpha wanted him, this time as an opponent against whom he had no chance. 

Damian let the silence stretch, long enough that even the murmurs in the ballroom quieted, nobles straining to see what the Emperor would do next.

Then Damian extended a hand.

"Walk with me," he commanded.

It wasn't a request.

Gabriel exhaled slowly through his nose. He considered refusing, but only briefly. However, the ballroom was still watching, and after Anya's words, declining the Emperor's invitation would only fuel the fire.

Even so, he would not make this easy.

Gabriel shifted subtly, pretending not to see Damian's outstretched hand as he passed it. But Damian was waiting for him. Anticipating him.

Before Gabriel could take another step, a firm, warm arm slid around his waist.

His breath caught, and his eyes widened in surprise. Gabriel never imagined someone touching him so intimately in public, let alone at an imperial ball. But here was Damian, the Emperor. 

The grip wasn't tight, but it left no room for argument. Damian had given him the illusion of choice, and when Gabriel refused, he closed the distance himself. He could feel the harsh texture of the imperial robe embroidery burshig his neck and hand. Gabriel could only look ahead; he stiffened at the thought of Damian using his pheromones on him, but thankfully he felt nothing but a subtle, fresh perfume. 

The shift was subtle, but the effect was immediate. The nobles who had been watching intently saw it for what it was. Not just an invitation. A claim.

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Gabriel could feel their eyes, the silent exchange of glances between those who had thought Damian indifferent.

He gritted his teeth, hands curling into fists at his sides. He should pull away. He should say something. But the weight of the ballroom's attention held him still, and Damian knew it.

The Emperor leaned in slightly, just enough for his breath to touch Gabriel's ear.

"You should know by now," Damian whispered, low enough for only him to hear. "I do not like being avoided."

Gabriel's jaw clenched.

But before he could react, Damian led him forward, his arm still securely around his waist, as they approached one of the many balcony doors.

The nobles naturally parted for them, the weight of Damian's presence clearing a path that no one dared to block. Gabriel noticed that some of them were already whispering, and Anya's lips were pressed into a thin line.

The cool night air brushed against Gabriel's skin as they stepped onto the balcony. The distant hum of the ballroom faded behind them, leaving only the sound of the evening breeze. The palace and his vast garden were adorned with numerous orbs that illuminated the paths of those who wished to spend time in the garden. Tapestries were hung on the exterior walls, with scenes from the evening's important events being recast. Damian's speech was now on, Gabriel was surrounded by that man's image. 

Gabriel had barely finished processing Damian's words when he felt it: warm fingertips brushing against his neck, tracing the rough edges of the mark hidden beneath his collar.

Gabriel's pulse quickened. He jerked away instinctively, his hand flying up to cover the mark.

"What are you—" Gabriel's voice was sharper than he intended.

Damian didn't react to the sudden movement. His golden eyes remained fixed on him, unreadable as ever. "How did you make it?"