CHAPTER 198: CHAPTER 193: THE PORTRAIT OF A LIE (2)

Damian’s head snapped up.

Golden eyes locked onto Alexander’s face with such sharpness it could’ve carved through stone. The folder in his hands creaked under the sudden pressure of his grip.

"Say that again," Damian said, his voice razor-thin.

Alexander didn’t flinch, though even his breathing slowed. "They were altered. Fabricated. Someone spliced His Grace’s likeness onto an older set of images involving Elliot Claymore. It’s illusion magic, but done with high detail and accuracy—meant to appear as if they were lovers."

The room dropped several degrees in temperature.

"We have one of the images in the folder." Alexander refused to look Damian in the eyes.

Damian didn’t move.

For a long, taut second, the only sound in the room was the whisper of the ether sconces reacting to his aura—dimming low, as if afraid.

He skimmed the report until he reached the picture.

The paper inside wasn’t enchanted, but it pulsed with a residual spell—faint glamour woven along the edges, the sort that could trick eyes and memories if left unchecked. A master’s touch.

And there it was.

Gabriel’s face—stilled mid-moan, his mouth parted, eyes half-lidded in a way meant to suggest surrender—was turned toward the shoulder of a shirtless figure meant to resemble Elliot Claymore.

His back was pressed against a door marked with the unmistakable seal of the Empire. The imperial crest gleamed behind him, half-obscured by the illusion of Elliot’s arm slung possessively around his waist. Their bodies were posed with deliberate artistry—close enough to suggest breathless contact, just distant enough to leave the worst to the imagination.

"Elliot," Damian said, the name like poison in his mouth. "That conniving—"

"We didn’t find anything to tie him to this," Alexander cut in, carefully but firmly. "The images were found among Anya’s effects. She planned to use them when the next foreign envoy arrived. Leak them as ’evidence’ of Gabriel’s past indiscretions. They were meant to discredit both his fidelity and your judgment."

Damian was silent.

"She is not alone in this; the choice of Elliot could only be from someone that knows the Empire’s high society social relationships. Unfortunately, however, whoever helped her was smart enough to use magic to erase Anya’s memories of the meeting."

Damian’s hands moved with terrifying control as he closed the folder, his knuckles white where they gripped the edge.

"She doesn’t remember who helped her?"

"No," Alexander said. "The spell used wasn’t just memory loss—it was targeted suppression. They erased her recollection of a specific face, time, and location. Expensive, but not impossible to find a mage that can do it."

"And the fact that someone with access to that kind of magic chose Elliot for the image..."

"It wasn’t random," Alexander agreed. "The implication was deliberate. The composition, the symbolism—the imperial seal behind them—it was designed to fracture public trust. To suggest that your Consort’s loyalty lies elsewhere."

"To paint him as a scandal," Damian said, low and lethal, "not a partner. A pawn passed between alphas."

He set the folder down slowly, as if it burned.

The temperature in the room dropped again.

"Distribute the counter-report quietly," Damian ordered, voice flat. "And have every Shadow in Paisian-affiliated embassies double back through their archives. I want a list of every noble house with an artist of illusion magic among their retainers."freёwebnovel.com

Alexander inclined his head. "Already in motion."

"I want them silenced before Gabriel ever sees this."

Alexander hesitated. Just slightly. "You don’t think he’ll find out?"

"He will," Damian said, tone dark and resolute. "I will tell him, but first I need names."

And then his voice dropped, roughened with something cold and unshakable.

The air had turned brittle. Even the ether sconces along the walls flickered uneasily in response to the pressure curling beneath Damian’s skin. His power didn’t flare, not yet—but it simmered, deep and gathering, like a storm crouched over still water.

"I was too lenient," Damian said again, quieter this time, but with far more weight. "Time and time again these nobles remind me that I waste my time being merciful."

His eyes lifted, burning gold beneath furrowed brows.

"They’ve mistaken my restraint for softness. They think giving Gabriel my name, my bond, and my Empire, makes him something they can drag through the dirt to gain favor."

He tapped his fingers on the report with a maddening rhythm.

"They forget I built this Empire from the bones of their fathers. That I burned the old order to the ground while they cowered behind ancestral doors." His hands curled into fists on the paper. "And now, they look at him and think, this is where the weakness lies

?"

He stopped.

Damian’s fingers tapped once more on the edge of the report—sharp, rhythmic, and final. Then, his hand stilled.

"Send this to Gregoris and Charles," he said, his voice as cold as steel dragged across ice. "I want them to see every page. Every image. Every detail."

Alexander inclined his head but didn’t move yet. Damian’s aura was still unfurling, pressing against the walls, heavy enough to make the sconces flicker again.

"And," Damian continued, his golden eyes narrowing with precision, "start a controlled leak about Patricia—make sure the rumors tie her to Hadeon’s political dealings. Let it reach Elliot before nightfall."

Alexander’s expression didn’t shift, but there was a quiet spark of understanding behind his gaze. "You want Elliot isolated."

"I want him suffocating under the weight of his own lineage," Damian said, each word wrapped in venom. "Let him taste what it’s like to carry a scandal tied to his name. Let him be the distraction for once."

There was silence again.

And then—"Charles will see red," Alexander said carefully. "He’s never read a report like this before. Not about his brother."

"I’m counting on it," Damian replied without hesitation. "He’s training under Gregoris, isn’t he? Let this be his first real assignment."

Alexander gave a single nod. "Understood. I’ll make the delivery personally."

Damian’s gaze lingered on the fabricated image once more. On Gabriel’s stolen face—twisted, posed, desecrated.

"They wanted to provoke something," he said softly. "Let’s give them more than they bargained for."

Then, with sudden precision, he stood. The report snapped shut beneath his hand. The temperature in the room slowly began to return to normal as he smoothed the sleeves of his robe and adjusted the chain at his throat.

He didn’t look back.

"Send the report," he said.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Alexander vanished through the warded door, silent as a shadow.