Trial by Heart (Trial Series Book 4) Read online

  I can’t even consider what it means that Ben is, or was, supposed to become my mate.

  Well, I guess technically, he was supposed to die, if this was a normal trial. I’m not sure which decision would be worse for him: dying in pursuit of bettering his clan’s standing or having to back out of running for the Community leader so he can save the Community that despises wolves from the curse.

  He has to resent me, at least a little, for putting him in this position. Has he known half his life it would come to this? What tipped him off I’d choose him? My father?

  I want to follow him and ask him or … apologize or … I don’t know ... warn him against believing in any fucked up Kingmaker.

  I also want to be strong enough to deserve everything those around me have sacrificed.

  This feels like the straw that broke the camel’s back, the completion of the crumbling sensation I experienced with Myca. I don’t feel like ugly crying, though, not this time. I’m numb, forced to confront what I am and what I represent. Three men put their lives, and those of their clans, on the line while a fourth – the man fated to either marry me or die at my hands – carefully orchestrated a plan to save me so that maybe, if I’m strong enough, I can break the Kingmaker Curse.

  Ben may not have any magic to influence me, but he manages to smash my world with nothing more than a few simple words and the devastating truth.

  Erish is skulking.

  Right or wrong, I want to go home. I deserve to be in the study with all the cursed books and charms, dwelling on the torment my father went through the last few days he was alive. Did any part of him doubt me like I do?

  Sucked into my mind, I forget my breakfast as I think.

  Chapter Five

  “Not a fan of eggs?” Ben enters the kitchen sometime later, empty plate in hand.

  I blink out of my thoughts at his question. “They’re fine,” I reply.

  My appetite is gone. I can’t even look at him let alone voice what’s on my mind.

  “You have questions?”

  I shake my head. “For once, no. I feel like I know too much already.”

  “This kind of knowledge is powerful, Leslie. One simple word has already changed the course of the Community’s future.”

  I’m nowhere near as optimistic. “How did you know you were my … uh …” I wish I’d never opened my mouth the second I hear my half-assed question. Heat creeps up my neck and into my cheeks.

  “Your father. I consider myself a quick reader of people, but he was faster. Barely gave me the time of day and then sent me a letter with one word on it.”

  “Exile,” I whisper and study his handsome features.

  Ben nods. “The next day, he announced I was the first of the three candidates to be chosen.”

  “But you’d been planning this for a long time.”

  “Yeah. I wasn’t sure how to tell which Kingmaker was the right one, until Myca’s father tipped me off about all the clans being represented for the first time in two millennia. Your father sent me another coded letter, too.”

  “I hate those letters,” I say vehemently, thoughts on the one left to me by my father during the final day of my third trial.

  “He did everything he could. He loved you enough to defy the curse.”

  It bothers me that Ben understands and has known about my father’s torment so much longer than I have. I didn’t learn his pain until it was too late to comfort him.

  Realizing I’m staring into Ben’s silvery eyes, I avert my gaze.

  “How are you supposed to help me break the curse?” I ask. “Or can you, since you’re not in the trials?”

  It’s a stupid question. Erish goes still, listening, needing this information, too.

  “I can,” Ben says. “But I can’t tell you how.”

  “I get it.” I silently tell Erish to fuck off, knowing he needs this answer. If it means I succeed, I’m happy to stay somewhat in the dark for now.

  I shouldn’t be here, in Ben’s kitchen, but I don’t want to leave either. My thoughts are clearer than they’ve been in quite some time and also heavier.

  “I need some air,” I say and stand.

  Erish trails me to the double doors leading out back, and I step into the chilly morning. I should probably put on shoes but can’t handle facing Ben at the moment.

  Folding my arms across my chest, I walk aimlessly until I reach the forest and then find a narrow trail leading into its depths.

  I neither know nor care where I’m going. My head hurts, and my emotions are depleted.

  It feels like Erish has won, except I know he hasn’t. I haven’t won, either, not yet, and doubt I ever will.

  To stop the curse, to fulfill the obligations in the Final Trials, I’ve been handed a head start in the form of Erish not being able to exile Ben and Ben manipulating the game board. But there’s more that needs to be done, specifically by me. My father outlined it in his letters, as did the Book of Secrets.

  A final sacrifice has to be made, and I must destroy everything connected to the curse during the fifty-one minutes when the moon is eclipsed in a few days.

  That means … me. I anchor the curse by being alive, and no magic or vampire amulet can change this fact. My death would also mark the end of a clan, another stipulation from the Final Trials, assuming it’s a real condition and not something made up by Erish in his pursuit of continuing the curse.

  I’ve sensed, since near the beginning, I’m not meant to make it out of the trials alive, and this appears to be the case. One life is a small price to pay for the safety of the Community and breaking the curse. It’s this thought that leaves me shivering, even after the lukewarm sun makes its way through the leafy canopy overhead.

  As much as I hate to admit it, I’m scared. Afraid to take the final step and fail, terrified to lose a life I’m only just beginning to appreciate.

  “I hate you, Erish,” I whisper angrily.

  “It is what it is,” he replies, the quiet note in his voice again.

  “This can’t have been worth it. You lost your family, your love, your soul.”

  He’s quiet.

  I glance down at my feet to see where he is and spot him striding beside me. “Say something!” I command. “Be a fucking smartass and tell me it was worth everything!” My chin trembles.

  “Does it matter?” he answers.

  “It does to me! I want to hear you say it was the biggest mistake of your life, that losing the woman you love destroyed you!” My fury keeps me warm, and I march through the forest with no real destination. “I want to know you’re in pain, Erish, and when we’re both dead, you’ll spend eternity in hell!” I wish he had a solid form, so I could punch him and take out my anger on the one person who truly deserves it.

  He’s not answering, which infuriates me more. Tears blur my vision, and I swallow hard, trying to keep calm enough to see where I’m going. The last thing I can handle right now is being knocked on my ass after running into a tree or rock.

  I somehow manage not to hit anything but do almost end up nose diving into a ravine. Grabbing the tree nearest me, I steady myself against its rough bark. Fear rights my senses, at least momentarily, and I stare into the sloping ravine and the tiny creek at its center.

  If I throw myself into the ravine now, would all this end? Would the Community be free and Erish in hell where he belongs?

  The impulsive side of me eggs me closer to the edge, while the instinct that’s been telling me to stay with Ben warns me away. I’m caught in the place of indecision with an emotional hurricane brewing in my breast.

  After a long moment, I sink down with my back against the trunk of a tree and stare into the ravine.

  Did my father know I’m a coward? Do the candidates and their puppet master suspect I’m afraid to die? The trials are supposed to teach me conviction, intuition and courage and to awaken any secondary magic I retain as a Kingmaker. I’m lacking in every area.

  “Erish, please tell me why yo
u did it,” I whisper. “I want to know why so many have died.”

  “I wish I could say it was for love, but it was mainly for ego,” he replies softly. “I loved someone I was forbidden to love, but I brought the curse upon us because I wanted the power to decide the fates of others the way they did mine. I didn’t realize, until it was too late, that I wanted power more than love and I did it for myself, not her.”

  His honesty helps, no matter how gritty the truth. “Who was she?” I ask.

  “It doesn’t matter. She’s gone and has been for two thousand years.”

  “If you could break the curse, would you? I want the truth.”

  He doesn’t answer.

  I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them, resting my chin on a knee as I gaze at the forest on the other side of the ravine.

  “I’m going to end this,” I tell him. “I don’t care what you do or try to do.”

  “It’s easy to say that when it’s your life on the line and not someone else’s. I would gladly give mine again but hers … I wouldn’t lose her again, not for anything,” Erish says somewhat wistfully.

  “One life, two, three … it’s worth it to save thousands.”

  “I think the same thing every generation. If I fail in my duty, many more die.”

  Not after Wednesday, I vow in silence.

  I sit at the base of the tree for a long time. The chill of autumn never really lifts from the forest, and I tug my arms inside my t-shirt to keep them warm. I don’t want to leave the peace of the woods and don’t feel ready to face Ben. I’m numb again, but it seems to come and go, stepping aside when anger surges to life as I think about everything I’ve been through and all I’ve learned.

  It’s hard for me to hate Erish. I pity him too much. He’s trapped, too, even if his stupidity created this disaster. Despite the thaw in our rocky relationship, I’m not about to lower my guard completely around him. He’s bound by magic to try to force me into fulfilling the curse. I can’t take any chances with him, even if this feels like a truce of sorts.

  I remain where I am until I’m stiff and shivering as the sun starts to set, and grainy dusk settles into the forest. Only when it’s hard to see and I’m shivering from cold do I consider leaving my spot.

  “I brought your shoes.” Ben’s soft, low voice causes a pang of regret to flutter through me. He lowers them to the ground beside me, his cinnamon smell light.

  How does he not hate me? Resting my head back against the trunk of the tree, I gaze up at him. His silvery eyes seem to reflect the last of the daylight and glow.

  “Was it the worst day of your life when you found out you were destined for a Kingmaker?” I ask before I can stop myself.

  “No.”

  I want to tell him to give me a much more satisfying, robust answer but hold my tongue. He’s right to keep his distance, emotionally and physically. I’m the kind of poison that causes a slow, excruciating death. I wouldn’t take a chance with me either.

  Tugging on my shoes, I stand up and dust off my clothes from the pine needless that fell on me whenever the breeze rustled the branches above. Ben waits for me on the path, his form dark.

  “I invited Tristan and Myca for dinner,” he says. “You can’t see Nate again until Wednesday, according to the official rules.”

  I almost laugh. “Almost all the exes together at once!”

  “I thought you needed your friends today.”

  My smile fades. “Why are you doing this?” I ask in a hushed tone.

  “What?”

  “Don’t give me that shit! I know you’re the puppet master!”

  Ben begins walking, leading me away from the ravine. “You need a break.”

  It can’t be that simple. I’m in the most critical part of the trials, when Erish wins or I do, before the assassin my father chose decides whether or not I fucked up.

  Maybe it’s a good thing if I fuck up. I don’t look forward to offing myself.

  I want away from my dark thoughts and to say something to Ben but don’t know what. Staring at the back of his head hard, I follow him and try to come up with a topic that won’t sound forced. A part of me wants him to know how much I appreciate what he’s done and acknowledge aloud he’s put more effort into breaking the curse than anyone, even the Kingmaker’s.

  Another part of me is too ashamed to broach anything related to the curse or the pain it’s caused.

  The only problem is, I don’t know what else to talk about with someone I barely know. It’s not like me to be shy or uncertain, or to feel lost as to what to say. I’m generally pretty outgoing, or was, until this week. Maybe I hesitate because I’m trying to wrap my head around a complete stranger knowing me intimately without ever meeting each other.

  “Was that you or Nathan who got stuck in the bakery and ate all the cinnamon roll dough?” I ask finally in a lame attempt to start a discussion with him. I don’t even understand why I have a need to talk to him at all.

  “Both of us,” he replies.

  God, I wish he’d say more than three words at a time! Does he know how hard it is to hold a conversation with someone who just doesn’t talk? “And you told Myca not to watch Twilight.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you doing this on purpose?” I explode.

  He stops walking, and I barely avoid running into him. “Am I doing what on purpose?” he asks, facing me.

  I can’t see his features in the darkness, and I’m suddenly paranoid knowing he can see mine. “I’m trying to talk to you and you don’t say more than two words at a time!” I exclaim. “Is it because I’m a fucking Kingmaker? I’m cursed? I killed your sister-in-law? You just don’t want to talk to me? Because you didn’t have to follow me to the forest or make me breakfast or spend years plotting to break the curse!”

  He laughs softly. “I’ll try harder.”

  I stare at him.

  “Three words that time,” he adds with his subtle humor.

  “You’re not doing it on purpose?”

  “Do you usually talk this much?”

  “What?”

  “It’s no different than asking me why I don’t talk much.”

  He’s right.

  What a dick.

  “As a matter of fact, yes, I do. I talk a lot when I’m around someone I like to be around.” Wrong. Answer. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. “And … other people. Anyone really. I just talk. Always. Never stop.” I push by him and start walking, humiliated for the umpteenth time today. “You’re not special, Ben.”

  What is wrong with me? I can’t afford to be attracted to, or flirting with, anyone. I’m going to die in four days, either by my hand or that of the man my father chose to assassinate me.

  Ben’s quiet laughter stirs all kinds of feelings, none of which are right.

  “People aren’t normally interested in having a conversation with me,” he says as he follows me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I give orders, attend business meetings, and solve problems. There’s not much room, or time, for purely social discussions.”

  “But you have siblings and I’m sure, friends,” I point out. “Don’t you talk to them?”

  “I generally listen. I’m not much of a talker.”

  “I see that.” I roll my eyes. “You texted me a lot that one night.”

  “You’re fun.”

  My brows furrow. I don’t know how to take this comment. I don’t think he means it in a derisive way, but it doesn’t seem like someone as smart as he must be in order to create a plan to outsmart a two thousand year old curse would find me fun. In fact, I don’t see him having fun at all. Ever. With anyone. He’s cautious and serious in everything he does. I don’t see him running away with me like Tristan would or drinking beer all night at a bar with Myca. I’ve always been reckless and wild, but he’s …

  “We’re kind of the opposite, aren’t we?” I voice aloud.

  “Completely the opposite.”

  I start to sm
ile again. “That can be good. I can make you laugh and drag you out of boring meetings to go skydiving, and you …” Wrong. Again. Pretending there’s a life, or world, without the curse is foolish.

  “… bring you shoes when you wander into the forest without them?” he finishes.

  “Something like that.” I shouldn’t, but I like this line of discussion and imagining what it would be like to draw someone as reserved as he is out of his shell. “Though if you’re willing to risk everything to break the curse, you’ve got bigger balls than me.” Fuck. Sometimes I seriously need a filter. “I’m not commenting on your balls. I just mean your risk tolerance is …” I sigh. “I’ll be dead in four days, so you won’t have to worry about trying to talk to me anyway.”

  He says nothing.

  I’m suddenly angry again, this time at myself. Feeling a little reckless, a whole lot raw, I decide to complete the impression he must have by now that I’m a babbling idiot and leave him no doubt as to why I shouldn’t be trusted with something as important as the fate of the Community. “So I read through a lot of your texts because I’m a complete bitch,” I start. “I noticed that everyone in the entire Community seems to come to you for stuff. Who do you go to?”

  “For what?”

  “If you have a problem or need to talk, who do you turn to?”

  “I don’t.”

  I twist to see him over my shoulder, disturbed by his answer and the fact I can’t see his face to gauge if he’s joking or not. “You never need help with anything?”

  “Not really.”

  “Is this some sort of werewolf male ego thing?”

  “Not to my knowledge.” I hear the smile in his voice.

  “That’s really … sad, Ben,” I say, unexpectedly touched by the admittance. “You’re all alone.”

  “I’m the alpha. If I can’t handle it, who can?”

  Clearly no one. I’m not sure if I should be impressed or concerned for him.

  But I also believe him capable of handling anything and everything.

  “I’ll help you,” I volunteer. Something about Ben makes me say the stupidest shit. “I’m currently the biggest charity case on the planet, but if there’s somehow anything I can do … I have no idea what that’d be. Maybe help you lift your couch if you move in the next few days. Whatever. I’ll help you.”