Trial by Heart (Trial Series Book 4)

by Lizzy Ford

  I nod, aware of how important winning the Community leader position is to the werewolves. There’s a small part of me that’s almost relieved to learn of his betrayal, because I feel less embarrassed about how I treated him. We aren’t even, because I was a bitch during our trial, but it’s nice not to feel alone in making mistakes.

  “In hindsight, I should’ve asked her to explain her motivation and timing,” Ben continues. “You don’t think about that when you love someone. I assumed she wanted the curse broken like I did. A week with a fucking Kingmaker, and the hope of breaking the curse, were small prices to pay for us to be able to have children one day.” His smile is tight and softens the impact of his words.

  “You hate me,” I murmur. “I hate me!”

  My father, or Erish, whomever’s turn it was to write Ben’s biography, expressed how sacred the mating bond is for werewolves. After experiencing it with Ben, I understand it all too well. If he were willing to sacrifice his own bond to be with me, and betray his mate, even for a week with her permission, he was desperate to do his part to break the curse.

  But I killed his mate. What has that done to him? To have hoped to have children with her one day then to lose her to a Kingmaker, of all people?

  “It doesn’t change the fact she betrayed me. One of her confidantes claimed she thought someone was about to find out about the drugs, and becoming my mate would offer her the highest level of protection.” Ben’s voice is quiet. “There was more than one issue she hid from me. The others made the drugs look harmless. And she was right. No one in the clan could’ve touched her once she was my mate. No one but the Kingmaker she attacked.”

  I search his features, sensing his pain, even if he’s hiding it. It’s one of the rare occasions in my life when I’m speechless. I can almost convince myself I did him a favor, but this seems so wrong to consider when he’s hurting.

  “You knew it when you met her,” he adds. “You saw what I couldn’t after a hundred years of knowing her intimately.”

  “Ben …” My voice cracks. I don’t know what to say. Nothing will make this better for either of us.

  “Don’t,” he says firmly. “I’m not telling you this for you to apologize. I made my choices, and she made hers. We both made mistakes. It never felt right to keep the truth from you, rules or not. I owe you this explanation. And no, Leslie, I don’t hate you. You showed me what having a mate is supposed to be like. I knew something was off with Jenny the day you and I bonded.” He’s earnest, his gaze steady. “I’m grateful for the experience and almost relieved I don’t ever have to worry about having a mate ever again.” These words are bitter – but honest.

  How can he be so calm about losing the woman he was supposed to spend his life with? Why isn’t he ripping off my arms and legs?

  As always, he seems to read my mind.

  “I did what I had to in order to help break the curse,” he says quietly. “I have no regrets, Leslie. I’d make the same choice again, if I had to do it over. The past couple of weeks have been hell, but you being in my life has taught me more about truth and loyalty than I learned my first two hundred years. I’ll always be grateful for this.”

  I swallow hard. I wouldn’t think so well of me if our positions were reversed.

  We stand in silence for a long moment. I want to say something, anything, to help. Ben appears calm, though I can almost sense the turmoil beneath his surface. His anger and volatile emotion from our trial make more sense in this light. It couldn’t have been easy for him to cheat on his mate, even if she gave him permission, and he was hoping to break the curse. The greater good and realizing the werewolves’ ambitions aside, this had to have been the most agonizing decision of his life.

  “Moving on.” He motions to the shadow. “Tristan and Myca feel we’ve defanged the curse. We’ve done all we knew to do in order to give you a leg up. Just promise me none of the sacrifices we made will be in vain. Promise me you’ll fight until it’s over.”

  I barely hear his words. I can’t get over the idea he forgives me for murdering his mate. I’m not about to tell him that technically, Erish did it. These details are inconsequential, but one thing isn’t. He, Tristan and Myca made horrific sacrifices. For Ben, it cost him his mate. What kind of pain did the trials inflict upon Tristan and Myca?

  I can’t stop staring at Ben and replaying his words in my head. Realizing he’s waiting for me to respond, I nod. “I swear I’ll be strong enough to break the curse.” But I don’t know if it’s true, no matter how much I need it to be.

  “The past two weeks have been the hardest of my life. I lost two mates at once. But I want you to know I have no regrets, and I don’t blame you at all.”

  God, he is so honest, so understanding, so good! My heart breaks for him, but he seems somewhat at peace with everything he’s told me.

  “You deserve so much better. I’m so sorry, Ben,” I manage after a prolonged pause.

  “That’s the other thing.” He shifts his weight between his feet and starts to give one of his cunning smiles. “My name’s not Ben.”

  I can’t be hearing him right and struggle to decipher what exactly he said.

  At my silence, he twists and motions Jason and the third man over. The minute my eyes fall to the stranger …

  “Holy fuck,” I breathe and blink several times to clear my gaze.

  Ben has an identical twin. Same size, same muscles … but different eyes. His twin has gray-blue eyes instead of whiskey-hued. They’re almost silver.

  “My name is Nathan,” Ben continues. “We’re twins, born five minutes apart. This is Ben. He’s firstborn and the leader of the wolves.”

  I keep looking between the two of them, unable to process what he’s saying.

  They’re all watching me, waiting for me to speak while I stupidly stare at them.

  “You’re … Ben?” I ask the werewolf with silvery eyes before looking at the golden-eyed werewolf I spent a week with. “And you’re Nathan?”

  “Yes,” says the real-Ben.

  “Is this real?”

  “It’s real,” Nathan responds.

  This is insane!

  There’s an explanation for this, but I’m not sure I’m in any shape to hear it. My eyes go to Jason, their youngest brother, who wrote me the note that’s tormented me for the past three weeks. Understanding what I do now, that he’s been in on the switcheroo from the beginning, I’m even more upset about what he said in the letter.

  “For the record, Jason, you’re an asshole,” I say. I can’t think of anything else to say to the twins. The same sense of shock I experienced when Erish walked away from me the first time in my living room is returning.

  “I owe you an apology,” Jason replies. “I wasn’t fully aware of the plan and acted out of turn.”

  I barely hear him. I’m seeing double and baffled.

  “You’re Ben,” I say again to the silver-eyed wolf.

  He nods with a small smile.

  In theory, there can never be too many Bens. I’ve never met anyone sexier. The way he fucks, how he looks at me, his possessiveness … I don’t care what his name is, and the idea of a threesome with the sexy twins is more appealing than it should be, given the madness of my current situation.

  “Is Tristan really Tristan? And Myca?” I demand of Nathan.

  “That’s for them to reveal,” he replies.

  I’ve known all along they’re supposed to be lying to me, but it never occurred to me they aren’t who they claim to be!

  Erish’s shifting draws my focus. He’s moving away from the group, towards the forest. At the moment, I tend to think he’s got the right idea. I have the urge to run, scream, punch Ben … Nathan, whatever his name is.

  “I need a minute,” I mumble and then stride away towards the forest.

  I walk, my mind a whirl of disbelief. I’m as far from furious as I can be, because I don’t have the right to be angry after not only dragging B … Nathan into this mess but killing his wi
fe.

  I can’t untangle my feelings, or determine what I should feel in this situation. They were following the rules about lying to me.

  Was this a rule, too? How can it be?

  What the hell is going on? Just yesterday I was grateful for the candidates in my life, because they can provide the stability and truth the Book of Secrets and Erish can’t.

  Should it matter so much they may not be who they pretend they are? Does that make them any less of the only support system, the only friends, I’ve ever known?

  I pay no attention to my direction or how long I’ve been walking until I trip and smash onto my knees. The pain pulls me from my mind. I’ve wandered into the middle of a forest, away from any path I can see, following a shadow that should be my enemy.

  It’s not like me to be lost in my head, and I’m almost alarmed to realize I don’t even know what direction the house is. Since Erish appeared, I’ve been battling myself internally without understanding the war I’m fighting. With the revelation of the twins …

  At least I know what Erish is. I can’t say the same for the wolves. Why would they lie about their identities? How can this possibly matter in the trials?

  “That explains a few things.” Erish verbal conclusion, the exact opposite of mine, draws me from my chaotic thoughts.

  “How?” I ask. I draw a deep breath to steady my shot nerves and then locate him. He’s seated near me on a log. “How does that explain anything?”

  “This has not felt like a normal trial since it began. You would not notice the differences, but I can.”

  I can’t take him. Not now. Rubbing my face, I throw my head back, close my eyes, and sit quietly. Fortunately, Erish is silent. I concentrate on breathing and centering myself. The forest is peaceful, and a cool breeze tosses my long curls. I start to relax in the midst of nature despite my traumatizing morning.

  I can’t get over the guilt of murdering fake-Ben’s wife. Supernaturals only mate once in their lifetimes. Fake-Ben-Nathan got all of a few months with his mate – and will spend the rest of his long life alone. Jenny may have been a deceptive bitch, and a bad person, but she was still his mate. His lack of anger towards me is astonishing, unless what he learned after her death was so much worse than anything I can imagine.

  Even, so, it’s not like she was suffering from a curse that directly impacts his clan’s chances of survival. She couldn’t have been that bad, could she?

  I’ll never know and I probably don’t want to.

  The B … Nathan I know would never consider betraying his mate for anything. Perhaps he’s not angry because he truly believes her life to be worth sacrificing to break the curse.

  Then again … I clearly don’t know him as well as I thought. Not even his real name or the motivation behind tricking me into sleeping with him instead of real-Ben.

  “That’s not fair, Leslie,” I chide myself in a whisper.

  Nathan is a good man. I know this. I’ve always known this. He’s always had the ability to twist me into knots of so much confusion, I don’t know which way is up. I guess today is no exception.

  It’s always something huge and life changing with these fucking trials. There are never tiny, manageable surprises.

  “I don’t want to disturb you.”

  Real-Ben’s voice is a tad deeper than Nathan’s, and he moves through the forest with the same predatory silence.

  “I don’t think it’s possible for me to be more disturbed,” I retort.

  I sense his nearness and open my eyes. Ben has his brother’s intensity, though it appears … subtler. Softer. Unlike his brother, his air doesn’t hold the often agitated energy Nathan’s does. His gaze is just as direct, his build and size identical from what I can tell.

  The quiet stretches between us, taut and unsettling. He keeps his distance. Unlike his twin, real-Ben isn’t going to make the first move.

  What reason could the werewolf clan possibly have to lie about their leader? Did my father put them up to this?

  “You can’t trust him,” Erish warns me. “One of you isn’t going to survive the week.”

  I resist the urge to shout back at him and focus on real-Ben.

  “Just another fucked up day on trial,” I say at last. “Any other surprises you want to tell me?”

  “I imagine what we’ve told you is enough,” real-Ben replies with a guarded smile.

  “There’s always more.”

  “Always,” he agrees.

  I study him, baffled by the similar looks but not so similar presence. Something is very different about real-Ben. His is a quiet strength, the kind of man who’s in charge no matter where he stands in the crowd. The candidates are all born leaders, and the man before me is no different. Except … he is different, and it’s the instinct whispering to me that real-Ben is quite possibly the most important man I’ll ever meet that’s confusing me.

  Unlike Myca, he’s not volunteering any information, but neither does he seem closed off to answering my questions. He’s waiting for me to decide how this is going to go with the patience of a curious predator, the kind toying with a small animal with no intention of eating it, but no intention of freeing it, either.

  We’re here until he gets what he wants. As usual – I don’t know what that is.

  Fucking werewolves. For the clan that’s supposed to be lowest on the food chain, I sometimes get the feeling they know so much more than the Community can or will ever know to credit them for.

  Self-conscious beneath his intent look, I cross my arms. “So … the Ben who helped Myca find me when I was buried alive. You or your brother?”

  “Me.”

  “The Ben I texted all night? The movie buff?” I already know this answer. During my first trial, I wasn’t able to reconcile how he could be so fun via texts and so moody the next day. He felt like two different people – because he was.

  “Also me,” the man before me confirms. “Nathan texted you times and dates and the occasional how-are-yous.”

  “The Ben I slept with was actually Nathan.”

  “Correct.”

  “This is really fucked up, real-Ben!” I snap and stand.

  “It is,” silver-eyed Ben answers. “We had to keep you in the dark. We couldn’t risk the curse discovering our plan and adapting.” He nods his head towards the pacing shadow nearby.

  “Can you tell me now what the master plan is?”

  “Not quite yet. This week is critical for you. Traditionally, the last trial is when the curse takes hold of the Kingmaker. You need to make it until Wednesday without losing your mind.”

  Too late there. I purse my lips to keep from snapping back and draw a breath. “Thanks for nothing, real-Ben,” I snap and spin away. I start off through the woods and make it all of ten steps before I realize I don’t know where I’m going. There’s no trail nearby, and I can’t see the house or clearing through the trees.

  “This way.” Ben moves as silently as Erish.

  I want to ignore him but understand I have the directional sense of the tree I’m standing beside. Turning, I watch Ben move with effortless stealth through the forest and begin to follow. Erish takes his place as my second shadow once more, and I shudder to think I’ve spent my entire life with the curse dogging my ever step.

  My mind is not where I want to be, so I focus on placing my feet without tripping and on accepting the existence of the werewolf twins.

  “I’m supposed to ask you about my great-great grandfather,” I say. “Or was it Nathan who killed him?”

  “That was me, too,” he replies. “Your great-great grandfather is the first person who tipped me off as to how to break the curse.”

  “Really?” That’s definitely not in the Book of Secrets.

  “Every generation of Kingmaker left a clue. The vampires recorded everything diligently and refused to share the information with anyone else, until I learned one of the final keys,” Ben explains. “It took some time and convincing to get Myca’s father on board.
He wasn’t easy to negotiate with. Vampires do nothing for free, and I wasn’t about to play into his hands. We came to an arrangement that benefitted both our clans.”

  “You blackmailed the vampire king?” I ask, surprised.

  “I prefer the term agreement. Whether it was voluntary or not is irrelevant.”

  The careful words hold more meaning than I can possibly know, because no one wants to alert Erish by warning me. Myca would’ve been suffering underground when all this went down about a hundred years ago, when my great-great grandfather was murdered by the werewolf leading me through the forest. I can’t see any of the candidates strong arming the vampire king who even Myca spoke of grudgingly.

  What kind of person is real-Ben that he was brazen enough to blackmail the vampire king? His quiet aura gives me no clue as to the depths of his mind. His brother was a veritable volcano of emotions, but real-Ben … nothing. No emotionally charged air, no changes in his speech, no passive aggressive retorts. I can’t read him. At all.

  “And my father gave you another clue, didn’t he?” I ask.

  “Your father gave us everything we didn’t have. At least, he hinted at it. His letters were half riddle, half advisory. What he couldn’t say, I had to figure out.”

  “Welcome to my world,” I murmur. “What are you, the mastermind behind breaking the curse?”

  “Yeah.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, seriously?”

  “It’s my plan, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  They’ve been working together with limited help from my father. I guess it makes sense someone has to be in charge. I’m not expecting to learn it’s Ben.

  “What makes you confident your plan won’t backfire and fuck up your world like the vampires did theirs a thousand years ago?” I ask, growing more concerned by the moment.

  Ben glances back at me and pauses, holding up a tree branch with one muscular arm for me to pass under. I stop and gaze up into his masculine features and the silver-blue eyes that seem to see through me. His scent is different than his brother’s; real-Ben has a dash of warm cinnamon to his earthiness. I draw his smell in, trying to decipher it and what the hell is really going on.