Ember Chasers

The Seduction

 
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  The breeze around the shadowy gallows silenced, and the flickering of the scented candles stilled. Even the lacy curtains draped along the crystalline windows seemed to have gotten the gist of the mood and dwindled into a quiet slumber.

  It seemed like only the fire weaver remained out of order in the pristine bedchamber of the princess of the kingdom Amoria.

  His eyes landed on the furry carpet made out of a brown bear's coat, internally recoiling from the cruelty done to the animal. The expensive embroidered vases watched his every movement with growing tension, and the fashionable items and dresses displayed straightforwardly indicated the vanity of the said princess. He looked everywhere except for the female in front of him, her robe laced with the finest golden threads as she beckoned him to come closer.

  The weaver felt nothing at that point, probably because he didn't even know the lady. The only thing running amok in his mind was his beloved companion, who was still slumbering solemnly inside his rucksack. He prayed dearly that no one checked his bag and found out about her, or he'd be writhing on the ground, sobbing helplessly.

  The fire weaver felt the heat from his chest rise uncontrollably until it reached his cheeks as he strode forward, unbuttoning his clothes in a slow pace. Embarrassing. His clumsy hands stumbled over the buttons as they shook with anxiousness, until he heard the tempting laughter of the princess that almost sent his mind in complete jeopardy.