Free Trial by Heart (Trial Series Book 4) by Lizzy Ford

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