CHAPTER 181: CHAPTER 176: DINNER WITH EXPECTATIONS

The dining room Edward chose was one of the smaller imperial salons, tucked just off the west wing’s central corridor—formal enough to remind Lucius of Gabriel’s rank, but private enough to make it seem like a family dinner. The walls were a muted charcoal grey laced with veins of gold, and the lighting was low, almost reverent, the ether-powered chandeliers casting a soft glow over the long obsidian table.

Gabriel entered alone.

No attendants, no heralds, no guards. Just the quiet sound of his boots on the polished floor and the heavy weight of every conversation not yet spoken.

He looked every inch the Consort. The tailored coat hugged his frame with clinical precision, his hair pulled back and fastened with a black pin bearing the imperial seal. Only a faint line of bruises peeking above his high collar betrayed the toll of his private life. That, and the subtle way he held himself—spine straight, expression sharp, exhaustion tugging at the edge of his eyes.

Lucius von Jaunez was already seated, hands folded over a pristine napkin, his posture so perfectly upright it bordered on theatrical. Beside him, Theo sat stiffly, clearly less inclined to perform. A half-empty glass of red wine rested by his elbow, untouched.

Gabriel didn’t slow. He walked to the table, pulled out the chair opposite his father, and sat without ceremony.

"Good evening," he said, not bothering to soften the edge in his tone. "Let’s not waste time pretending this is a reunion."

Lucius studied him for a long moment, the candlelight catching on his sharp features. "You’ve changed," he said.

Gabriel smiled coldly. "So I’ve been told."

Theo cleared his throat softly. "You look well."

"I look like someone who’s had their blood drained and their schedule assaulted," Gabriel replied dryly. "And I’m still better company than half this court."

Lucius gave no visible reaction. "We weren’t sure you would come."

Gabriel tilted his head. "I wasn’t sure either. But Edward insisted. You should thank him, not me."

"I heard he schedules your health appointments now," Theo said carefully, voice low, like a man avoiding tripwires.

Gabriel met his brother’s eyes. "Among other things. You’d be surprised how detailed the imperial schedule is. Even my exhaustion has a time slot."

Theo looked away, jaw tightening.

Lucius set down his wine glass, the sound soft but pointed. "I assume you understand the importance of tonight’s dinner."

Gabriel leaned back slightly in his chair. "I understand you want something."

The air sharpened. Even Theo flinched.

Lucius didn’t raise his voice. He never needed to. "I want to understand the man you’ve become."

Gabriel stared at him for a long moment, then laughed—quiet and humorless. "Now you care?"

"You’re the Consort-Designate of the Empire," Lucius replied smoothly. "You’ve aligned yourself with the throne. That demands understanding."

Gabriel didn’t blink.

"I guess for once I did what you wanted," he said, his voice calm, too calm. "Even if I was forced into it by you."

He turned his head slightly, eyes falling on Theo.

"Does Theo know your little schemes?"

Theo froze. "Gabriel—"

"No, really." Gabriel’s voice was quiet, but sharp enough to cut through the weight of polished silver and expensive wine. His gaze never wavered. "Did you tell him? About the contract? The fact that you helped Peter? That you and Elowen planned for me to be a bridge between von Jaunez and the imperial family?"

Theo stiffened in his seat. His expression shifted from confusion to disbelief, then to something closer to horror.

Lucius did not blink.

"Gabriel," Theo said carefully. "What are you talking about?"

Gabriel’s lips curled into something that might have been a smile, had it not been bitter as blood. "Don’t worry. Father will explain. Or not. It’s not like either of them sees us as more than tools to power."

Theo flinched. Just slightly—but enough for Gabriel to see it.

He’d always been the careful one, the steady one. The one who soothed tensions, brokered peace at their family table, and balanced ambition with responsibility. But now?

Now he looked like a man who’d just realized he’d built that balance on sand.

Lucius’s mouth flattened into a line. "It’s not like that."

Gabriel laughed. Once. Low. Bitter. "No? Because from where I’m standing, it’s exactly like that. You knew. Both of you. You knew that my contract could be broken by someone with royal blood, and you kept it from me."

He took a step forward. "In Ashmont, you stood in front of me, looked me in the eye, and told me you couldn’t find anything. That you were still investigating. That it might be years before we found a solution. All while knowing Damian could snap it like a thread."

Theo’s brows drew down, confused. "Wait—what?"

Gabriel didn’t look at him.

He looked straight at Lucius.

"I begged you," he said softly. "Do you remember? Almost six years ago I begged for help. For answers. I thought I was going to die. And all you gave me were reassurances and silence."

Theo looked at Lucius now. "You told me the research turned up dead ends."

Lucius’s eyes didn’t flicker. "We did what was best for Gabriel. He was unstable. And without direction."

Gabriel’s voice dropped. "You let me rot."

Lucius finally stood, slow and deliberate. The candlelight caught the hard angles of his face, casting long shadows across the fine grain of the table. He didn’t look at Theo—only at Gabriel.

"You are where you were always meant to be," Lucius said. "You were tailored for the throne, Gabriel. Bred and raised with the understanding that you would one day stand on it. You chose someone else, not your family."

Theo’s chair scraped against the polished floor as he stood abruptly, knocking over his wine glass in the process. The dark red liquid spilled like blood across the tablecloth, but neither of the brothers looked down.

"You what?" Theo asked, voice taut with disbelief.

Gabriel didn’t react to the wine or the sound. He just tilted his head slightly, eyes still locked on their father.

Lucius barely glanced at the mess. "This is not the time for dramatics."

"The time for dramatics," Gabriel said coldly, "was six years ago. You missed it."

Theo’s hands were clenched at his sides now. "You bred him for this? Like a weapon?"

Lucius’s eyes finally moved to Theo. "We prepared him for what was inevitable. The world is not kind to those who aren’t ready to take power when it’s offered."

Theo looked stunned. "That’s not what you said when Peter—"

His voice faltered, the memory too raw, too heavy with guilt.

Lucius didn’t allow it to breathe.

His voice cut through the room like frost lacing over steel. "Peter was weak. But Gabriel, Gabriel strayed from his path. He was born to secure this family’s place in history. And instead, he defied it. He rejected Olivier, rejected the Empire we were building, and chose Damian. He threw away his future, our future, for sentiment. For spite."