Chapter 511 Correcting A Mistake

Chapter 511 Correcting A Mistake
(Adelaide)

"I almost forgot how young you are," Arkael said gently, his eyes wandering slowly across her face, studying her with an attention that suddenly felt altogether too personal. 
"So much responsibility..." He smiled faintly. "...and yet you still blush when someone compliments you." 
Heat crept instinctively into Adelaide's cheeks. She disliked that he'd noticed. 
"I suppose," he continued quietly, "that's one of the things I admire most." 
He stepped closer. Not enough to threaten. Enough that she became aware of the faint scent of cedar and smoke lingering about his clothes. 
"You've survived things that would have broken most rulers five times your age." 
His voice remained impossibly gentle. 
"And somehow..." His eyes lingered upon hers. "...you've remained beautiful." 
The compliment landed strangely. Not flattering. Evaluating. As though he were observing the craftsmanship of a rare sculpture. 
Adelaide shifted her weight almost unconsciously. 
"Thank you." The words felt hollow. 
"I've spent a thousand years imagining what this day might look like." 
His smile became distant. 
"I've imagined countless conversations." 
His eyes searched hers. 
"I don't believe I ever imagined finding someone quite so..." He paused. "...perfect." 
Every instinct inside Adelaide tightened. The room hadn't changed. The fire still crackled softly behind him. The meal still rested untouched upon the table. Nothing had happened. And yet... Everything felt different. 
She took a careful step sideways, creating the smallest amount of distance between them. 
"I think..." She swallowed. "I think I'd still like to leave tomorrow." 
Silence. Arkael regarded her for several long heartbeats. Then he sighed. Not with frustration. With disappointment. 
"So stubborn." His smile returned. "So very much like her." 
His hand rose slowly. Adelaide thought, for one impossible moment, that he merely intended to reassure her. Instead, the backs of his fingers brushed lightly across her cheek. The touch was delicate. Almost reverent. It made her stomach lurch. 
She stepped away immediately. 
"No." The word came far more sharply than she intended. 
Arkael's hand remained suspended in the space where her face had been only a heartbeat earlier. He looked at it for a moment before letting it fall. 
"I would have treated you kindly." 
His voice hadn't changed. It remained warm. Patient. Certain. 
"I would have given you a kingdom." 
His eyes lifted to hers once more. 
"I would have been a good mate." 
The words left him so naturally that, for the briefest heartbeat, neither of them seemed to realise he had spoken them. 
Adelaide stared at him. "...What?" 
Something flickered across Arkael's face. Regret. Not for what he meant. Only that he'd said it aloud. The smile returned almost immediately, smoother than before. 
"I would have given you peace." 
Adelaide shook her head, unable to stop herself taking another step backwards. 
"I don't want those things." 
A tiny crease appeared between his brows. 
"What do you want?" 
She didn't hesitate. "I want to leave." 
Something old and weary settled across Arkael's face. He regarded her with the same sorrow one might reserve for someone determined to walk willingly towards their own execution. 
"What a terrible waste." 
He breathed out slowly. 
"It truly didn't have to be this way." 
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Adelaide opened her mouth, intending to thank him for dinner despite everything, intending to end the conversation with whatever politeness she still possessed before asking him, once more, to leave. 
She never managed a single word. 
Something cold brushed around her ankle. She frowned. The sensation lasted only an instant before another wrapped around her opposite leg. 
Metal. 
Her eyes dropped. Black chains. Not iron. Not steel. They looked almost alive, each link forged from glossy Netherstone veined with slow-moving crimson fire that pulsed beneath the surface like blood flowing through obsidian glass. They had erupted silently from the pale volcanic floor itself, winding around her ankles with terrifying precision before she had even realised they were there. 
Adelaide jerked backwards instinctively. The chains moved with her. No... They anticipated her. 
Before she could draw another breath, they surged upward. One coiled around her waist. Another wrapped around both wrists, wrenching them behind her back with brutal force. Pain exploded through her shoulders. 
"Arkael!" The cry tore from her before she could stop it. 
The chains tightened. White-hot agony shot through her body, so intense her knees buckled beneath her. She hit the floor hard. 
"What are you doing?" she gasped, struggling uselessly against restraints that only seemed to constrict harder with every movement. 
Across the room... Arkael hadn't moved. He stood exactly where she had left him, hands folded calmly behind his back, watching with profound sadness rather than triumph. 
"I am correcting a mistake," he said quietly. 
Another chain slid across the floor like a living serpent, climbing slowly around her throat before settling there with horrifying gentleness. 
Adelaide's heart hammered wildly against her ribs. 
"You lied." The accusation broke apart beneath her ragged breathing. 
"The Binding..." 
"It was never for the throne." His voice remained heartbreakingly patient. "It was always for us." 
For a heartbeat... She could only stare at him. Then every conversation they had ever shared crashed together inside her mind. 
"The Binding will ensure it." 
Not... The throne. 
Not... The mountain. 
He had never said either of those things. She had. He had just let her believe it. 
The throne room. The careful answers. Every question she had asked. Every answer that had somehow never quite answered what she'd actually meant. 
"You are home." 
"In two days' time the Binding will be complete." 
"I would have been a good mate." 
The words slammed together with sickening clarity. 
He had never lied. He had allowed her to lie to herself. 
Her stomach lurched so violently she thought she might be sick. 
"No..." The whisper barely reached the space between them. 
Her eyes searched his face desperately. Looking for the kind old king who had welcomed her through the palace gates. Looking for the male who had smiled proudly as she talked about his people. Looking for the leader who had spoken so tenderly about Aurelia. 
She couldn't find him. Or perhaps... She finally had. 
She shook her head frantically. 
"No... I won't." 
"You don't have a choice." 
For the first time since she had met him... His smile no longer reached his eyes. 
"Not anymore." 
The chains tightened again. This time Adelaide couldn't stop the scream. It echoed through the palace. And somewhere, deep within the mountain's shadows... Something answered.