ShadowSong [Book 1 & 2: Complete] [NaNoWriMo16/17]

Chapter 45 - Patterns

Cryo hovered over Kaladrel, the frozen winds of Skypillar swirling under his wings as he kept a lookout for Banshee.

The winds knew where she was. He had to push against them constantly to retain his vigil, scanning the rooftops, the streets, etching the district's cityscape into his mind. Kaladrel was far more elegant than Sylrael or Cevinari, but its elegant curves held no charm for him.

As Jason, he'd visited Kaladrel three times, each one for one of his father's business and other official 'getaways'. It was seen as proper for a Governor's family to attend to show solidarity, but for Jason, it'd meant hours of standing straight, chin raised to just the right level, hands folded in the correct place, all while men and women the same age as his father strutted about, making small talk like he cared about their names rather than what they could do for him.

The only positive thing about it was that it meant a week away from his mother. Unlike her, his father didn't favour Regan or Jason. Instead, he barely seemed to care that either of them existed. Jason was increasingly sure that his father saw their family as a business tool rather than anything to be emotionally attached to. It didn't particularly bother him.

Not anymore.

Cryo turned his head the way of the winds, once again looking for Banshee.

She'd seemed... off. From her reaction after his impromptu training exercise to the random show of acrobatics across the temple grounds, something had been wrong with her today, though he couldn't quite place what.

Perhaps the stress of the last few days and the lack of sleep had taken its toll and made her irritable, but it'd seemed more than that. She hadn't been annoyed at him pelting her with ice, she'd been annoyed that she'd failed it. It was an abnormal reaction for her. Usually, any sign of improvement on her end to what Cryo thought of as an impossible task was met with bragging and various comments amounting to 'I'll beat you one day!'. This time, with such a remarkable improvement in comparison to the past, she should have been ecstatic. Instead, she just seemed angry at herself for it.

But now, after what he'd overheard Golem say about her daggers...

Cryo was worried.

He resisted the urge to cover his tattoo with his palm, just to let her know he was thinking of her and turned his head back the way it should have been: the opposite direction that the winds were trying to take him, to give Banshee as much of an edge as she needed.

He flew lower, scanning the streets, making a show, making the crowds look at him. Watch him. He stopped in front of several buildings and gave them a careful, considerate frown. The kind of frown that made people in Jason's life nervous, because they were wondering whether they were the object of his evaluation. The kind of frown he knew how to wear far too well just for a few moments of peace.

No one approached him as they often did Banshee, when she got this close. To them, he was a Luminary. The Frost of Skypillar. The way the temple said it was supposed to be. The way that Banshee... wasn't. She was the Shadow of Skypillar, but she was still one of them--a human, one who had a smile for her worst enemy.

She was everything Jason's mother said a Luminary shouldn't be. Everything the temple tried to push her away from. The things that he'd tried to push her away from, before realising it'd take nothing short of Skypillar himself standing in front of her with a commandment written in blood before Banshee would change her ways--and even then, he wasn't sure.

Or so he'd thought.

With Andrew's death, something had changed in her. Something that a year of the High Shadowspeaker's nagging hadn't even got close to touching. Something to crucial and vitally part of her that the prospect of this new Banshee, one that would have delighted his mother, had Cryo absolutely terrified.