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“I haven’t touched anything of yours,” I continue. “In fact, I haven’t done a damn thing to you, so whatever it is that’s got you so pissed off at me, I think it would be better if you’d just come out and say it.”

“I don’t have a problem with—”

“Yes,” I say emphatically. “You do. You have since the moment you met me in the throne room. Why?”

Vayla leans back against the workbench and mirrors my posture, crossing her arms across her chest. She doesn’t speak, just stares me down with a challenge in her gaze like she’s expecting me to fold.

Too bad for her, I’m in the mood to avoid my bigger problems right now. I can do this all day. We stay just like that for a minute, and then two. It’s childish, really, but I’m not about to break first.

When the corners of Vayla’s mouth turn down into a frown, I want to pump my fist in the air.

“You don’t have even a fraction of your predecessor’s magick.”

It’s a low blow, but I’m not about to let that show on my face. “Emilia? You’re right, I don’t. But I don’t see why that should make you hate me so much.”

“Like I said, I don’t—”

“Save it,” I cut her off. “I don’t know what exactly it is that’s made her leaving so personal for you, but I do know that she’s still concerned about you.”

Reaching into my bag, I draw out one of the letters Emilia gave me. It’s got Vayla’s name scrawled across the outside. Tossing it onto the table between us, I arch a brow at her.

“Read it. I don’t know what it says, but Emilia wanted you to have it.”

Vayla stares hard at me for a few moments, though her indecision shines in her expression. Unable to stifle it, she lunges for the letter and tears it open. As she reads, her eyes grow bright with tears.

Not exactly the reaction I was expecting.

I watch her pore over the letter for a few long minutes, reading it over and over until she finally lowers the paper and presses it to her chest.

“Thank you for bringing this to me.” Vayla’s words are raspy and broken.

Standing from my seat, I take a few tentative steps around the table.

“Vayla,” I say, approaching cautiously. “What’s going on?”

She searches my face for a moment. Whatever she finds there sends her guards crashing down. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, glancing down at the letter in her hands for a moment as she tries to regain her composure. When she looks at me again, it’s with naked pain in her eyes.

“I… love Emilia.”

My mind spins with the confession. “Her husband…”

“Knew about it,” she says quickly. “And accepted it. I… I love him, too. The three of us were together.”

If I was spinning before, I’m tossed completely off balance now, grasping to understand.

Vayla lets out a long, shaky breath. “It’s why I disliked you so much at first. You were her replacement and I… I hated it. She hasn’t even been gone a month and I…”

Her voice trails off into silence.

“You want her back,” I supply.

“Yes. I want her back. Sylas wants her back. We both do.” She looks down at the letter for a moment, brows knit together with worry.

“What is it?”

“Sometimes I wonder…” she trails off, before gathering her thoughts. “Sometimes I wonder if we broke it. The bargain. Maybe it was never meant for three.”

The question sparks a lick of anger in me.