Starlight in Crystal City (Book 2)

42: Teaching a Legendary Hero New Tricks

A chorus of voices greeted Kieran and me when we entered Memorial Hall, weaving through the entryway to the main room. The building was a wide open space that spanned across a single floor, making it possible to see every area at once.

Closer to the window, a group of older women were chattering. One volunteer was flitting around the semi-circle, passing out tiny tubes of yogurt and spoons. Kieran waved in his direction.

The man set the spoons against a rolling tray and rushed over to us. "Hey, you're back!"

"Indeed. And I brought company." Kieran smiled and gestured to me. He introduced the two of us, and the volunteer whisked the two of us over to the cluster of other adults working in the kitchen area to our left.

Despite the crowd of a dozen or so, the atmosphere was quiet. The man's voice was the loudest in the room as he greeted everyone by name. He took us around the back, behind the cooking station. The scent of bread tickled my nose.

The volunteer passed Kieran and me a serving cart stacked high with plates. He flashed us a sly smile. "You want to work, right? Because I can give you that."

"I think we can handle it," Kieran said. I didn't miss the humour in his calm tone.

The man reached into his pocket and produced an elastic. "For you," he said to me. "It's a sanitary thing. I always keep spares, 'cause Rhys"—he pointed sidelong to another volunteer not too far away—"forgets hers every single time."

"Oh! I didn't think of that." I quickly pulled my hair into a small ponytail and grabbed some gloves from the tray.

"Won't be the last time I hear that."

With a wave, he sent Kieran and me off and returned to his place near the window. The carts rolled in unison on our way through the seats. A few of them were familiar to Kieran, meaning he introduced me more than once. He didn't seem to mind though, and I had to keep pulling him along to the next person before the food we were transporting got cold.

At the end of the line was a woman—maybe in her sixties or early seventies, judging by the crown of grey hair at the top of her head. Her hands were small and pale, hovering over the controls of her electric wheelchair. Every finger was in movement, lifting one after the other to press against her palm, as if she was playing the piano. And with each stroke of the invisible keys, the table in front of her shook. Particles shifted and rearranged around her, like building blocks falling into place as the side of the table stretched, waxy and liquid. It froze into a block that was level with her wheelchair.

"Legend," Kieran greeted, offering her a plate already stacked with two slices of toast and red jello.

Her eyes lifted to meet Kieran's. She sighed out a flippant scoff. "Nobody calls me that anymore but you, Kieran."

"For what it's worth, nobody calls me Orion much these days either," he replied. With his free hand, he tore the jello packet open and placed it within her reach.

Legend gave a small huff. "You have at least a few good years left in you before that really happens. Trust me on this one." She scooped a spoonful of jello and settled her eyes on me. "This is your daughter, I see," she said when she finished eating, though it was more of a statement than a question.

Kieran nodded and patted my back, gently pushing me forth. Now I understood why the previous volunteer hadn't given me his hand to shake. My hands were gloved, yet still felt sticky underneath.

"My name is Farah now. I've gone far too long without using it, and it's time," she said. Her glare was stone and fixed on Kieran as she spoke. "Legend was my name while I was in costume. Not to mention, I was young, then."