The Island's Inhabitant

The Charity Hall Ball

"Edward?"

The prince turned to watch Zoey descend the flight of stairs before him. The gown she wore was deep purple, with lace shaping the sleeves and flowing silk for the skirt. Her face radiated with joy, even though her eyes remained, as always, grieving and tired. Her black hair was wrapped fancily into a side bun, a comb of pearl onyx holding it in place. Speechless, he offered his arm, which she gratefully hooked, and led his friend the rest of the way to the ballroom. The faint scent of roses permeated from her wrists, and as she walked awkwardly in the heels, the shoes clacked against the stone floors of Charity Hall. He could hardly take his eyes off her until she spoke.

"You're staring..." she stated.

"Sorry," Edward answered with a blush. "I can't help it when you look like an angel."

Zoey's face flushed, and she said, "My mother said if that my hair was golden like hers, then I would have been her little angel. But I was too mischievous for that anyways, and that's why I'm her little raven instead."

Edward grinned. "Do you mind if I call you that too?"

"I don't mind at all." She returned his smile and they continued in silence.

"There you two are!" Den exclaimed as they approached the ballroom. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming at all."

"Madam Marie insisted I wear one of her old gowns," Zoey replied. "She had to help me get it on and mend a few parts, not to mention all the resizing."

"I should've known! Mädchen take forever to get dressed."

"You try putting on a suit in under twenty minutes and say that again!" Edward retorted. He tugged sharply upon the collar of his overcoat, already feeling a bit stuffy especially after the loose-fitting clothes he had worn earlier.

Den's eyes popped open. "What kind of clothes do you people wear!?" He himself wore an outfit quite similar to Edward's.

"The kind I wish to burn," Zoey joked. "I'm glad I'm not part of the high society that wears this all the time. I'll keep my sweats and t-shirts, thank you."

The trio laughed and entered the ballroom together. Many people milled about the snack tables or partook in the group dance. Above the warm coloured tapestries, a balcony overlooked the room and hosted the musicians. Their music hummed softly over the crowd, filling every corner with its sweet melody even better than an opera house. Opposite of where Zoey, Edward, and Den stood, the Master of the Hall Kevin and his faithful knight Noah conversed quietly to themselves. Something seemed to trouble them, but upon the travellers' entrance, Kevin dismissed the matter to speak with his guests.

"My friends!" the tall, thin man greeted. "I am truly overjoyed that you have accepted my offer and joined us!"

"This place is huge!" Den gaped.

"Hardly," Edward answered.

"Well, I am sure our lowly room cannot hope to compete with the great halls of Markova."

Edward shook his head. "On the contrary, your ballroom is far better designed that Markova's. Certainly, it is smaller in size, but the glow and warmth here far exceed it. And I must say, the musician's perch is a brilliant idea. The acoustics are much more evenly distributed, making the music come from everywhere and nowhere all at once."

Kevin grinned. "The high prince of Calcasia approves of my father's design. There is little else I need before I am ready to die."

"Die!?" Den cried, perhaps a bit too loudly. "But you're too young to die!"

The Master of the Hall laughed and answered, growing solemn, "No one is too young to die. Besides, twenty-three seems a good age for the warriors of Charity Hall."