Shadow of the Heir

I Hate the Way Your Halo Shines so Softly

Her spine ached when she opened her eyes that morning. The armchair was less than the ideal sleeping situation, but she dared to say she couldn't sleep surrounded by the constant reminder of Sebastian and his childhood. Her stomach did a flip as she blinked rapidly to adjust her eyes in the morning light.

Her gaze hit Ominis first. He was leaning against the counter with a cup in his hand and his other shoved in his pocket. With his rumpled shirt and tousled hair, Ella could momentarily see why he'd become so very popular in the last few years. It seemed like every witch she knew practically fell all over themselves to speak to him. The questions were relentless if they were given even a hint that Ella had been close with Ominis once. He chuckled lightly at something Sebastian said. Lighthearted. Ella wished she felt half as happy as he looked.

She'd resisted letting her gaze fall to where Sebastian stood at the stove. She eventually lost that fight. His back was to her, but she could tell he was still in the same clothes as the day before. They were wrinkled from sleep. His hair was mussed and stuck out uncharacteristically for someone who'd spend more time than she did perfecting the effortless bedhead look. He turned, tipping the pan in his hand over a plate she hadn't noticed. Sebastian was cooking? Ella didn't know he even knew how to. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen anyone but house-elves cook. She supposed it made sense, the Sallows weren't well off enough to have their own elves, but it still felt odd to witness it.

Had he cooked for Imelda? She wanted to peel her skin off.

"I'm surprised she took it so easy on you." Ominis's voice was but a hushed whisper. Obviously not to disturb her. Ella made an effort not to move, lest he realize she was awake.

Sebastian's voice was hoarse when he spoke. "Not like her, is it?"

"She'll come around." Ominis seemed so sure of something she wasn't even sure of herself. "She wasn't the only one."

He'd told her the same thing during their night-time tea. Sebastian had manipulated all of them, Ominis included. It was driven by desperation. The last living member of his immediate family was dying. Ella understood it in theory—she couldn't say she'd do anything differently in his shoes. If her brother, despite his obvious hate for her, had been dying...

"I wish she'd asked literally anything else."

"If she asked, Sebastian, then she already knew." Ominis took a sip of the coffee in his hand and made a face. "Besides, she could have asked many worse questions than she did." There was a laugh in his tone.

She assumed that meant her questions had been childish—perhaps they had. She'd been too emotional to think straight. After harping on it the entire night and obsessively replaying the conversation, she'd compiled nearly a whole list of better questions.

Had he ever loved her?

Did he miss her all those years?

Did he still hate her?

Sebastian turned and leaned on the counter beside Ominis. She squeezed her eyes shut. "Should we wake her?"

"She was up most of the night."

"Was it that bad?" Sebastian sounded tired. Almost annoyed, but not quite there.

"It was shared in confidence, Sebastian, don't pry."

"You say that like you didn't slip her Veritaserum."

Ominis paused. Ella fought the urge to open her eyes. "Reyes may be a sore spot." He spoke carefully, dancing through a proverbial minefield of not betraying her.

Sebastian groaned. "As if Weasley was better."

Ella fought to keep herself still and silent.

"Let sleeping dogs lie, Sebastian."