Crimson Rebirth ( GL)

I summoned a fire clone without so much as a flick of my wrist. The flames coiled around my frame like a snake, splitting from my body and forming a perfect duplicate.

The clone stood silently, waiting for my mental command. Its eyes, identical to mine, glimmered faintly with embers before cooling to a more natural hue. 

"Keep her entertained," I muttered under my breath. 

The clone nodded and extended a hand to the minister's daughter, who was too enraptured by my charm or rather, my clone's charm to notice anything amiss. As she took its hand, I turned and slipped back into the grand hall, my steps silent. 

Once inside, I scanned the room for Xyra. It didn't take long to find her; she was sitting stiffly at the dining table, her glare like a finely sharpened blade aimed directly at me. 

Ah, there it was. That signature frost of hers. 

Her narrowed eyes followed my every movement as I strode back to my seat with deliberate nonchalance. I wasn't about to let her attitude ruin my evening, but the sheer intensity of her glare was almost... amusing. 

I sat down, leaning back in my chair with casual arrogance, as though I hadn't just abandoned a potential political disaster outside. Xyra, however, was not amused. 

"Enjoy your little stroll?" she asked, her voice saccharine with venom. 

"Refreshing," I replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. 

She scoffed, folding her arms and leaning back in her chair. "Unbelievable." 

I quirked an eyebrow. "Careful, Princess. That scowl might freeze the wine." 

Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, I wondered if she was debating whether to hurl her goblet at me. 

The minister, oblivious to the tension brewing between us, was still droning on about his new trade law proposal. It was remarkable, really, how he could speak at length without saying anything remotely interesting. Even the other guests looked half-asleep, nodding along with glassy eyes. 

Xyra's foot tapped against the floor, a steady rhythm that betrayed her impatience. Every so often, her icy gaze darted back to me, as if she were willing me to disappear. 

I couldn't help but smirk. Watching her try—and fail—to mask her irritation was far more entertaining than anything else in the room. 

Finally, the evening began to wind down. Guests started to trickle out, offering polite goodbyes and compliments to the minister and his family. 

"Shall we?" I asked, rising from my seat and offering a hand to Xyra. 

She ignored my hand and stood on her own, brushing past me without so much as a glance. Her frosty demeanor didn't bother me; if anything, it only added to the entertainment value of this whole ordeal. 

We stepped outside to find the carriage waiting. My fire clone was still with the minister's daughter, keeping her thoroughly distracted. I gave it a quick mental command to wrap things up and return once I was out of sight. 

As we climbed into the carriage, Xyra was silent. Her expression was a perfect mask of cold indifference, but I could feel the tension radiating off her like a storm waiting to break. 

The ride back to the castle was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the carriage wheels and the muffled sounds of the city outside. Xyra sat as far away from me as the carriage allowed, her arms crossed and her gaze fixed on the window. 

I leaned back, stretching my legs out and letting the silence settle. She'd break eventually; she always did. 

Finally, she let out a sharp exhale and turned to me, her eyes blazing. 

"What, exactly, were you doing with that woman?" she demanded. 

I blinked innocently. "Who, the minister's daughter?" 

"Yes, the minister's daughter," she snapped. "You vanished in the middle of dinner to... what? Flirt with her?" 

"I was gathering information," I replied smoothly. 

Her eyes narrowed. "Is that what you're calling it now?" 

I smirked. "Jealous, Princess?" 

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, muttering something under her breath that I couldn't quite catch. 

When we finally arrived at the castle, Xyra practically leapt out of the carriage, her steps brisk as she stormed inside. I followed at a leisurely pace, watching her retreating form with mild amusement. 

By the time we reached her chambers, she whirled around to face me, her glare sharp enough to cut through steel. 

"I don't need your games, Ren," she said, her voice low and furious. 

"Who said I was playing games?" I replied, leaning casually against the doorframe. 

"You always are," she shot back. "And don't think I didn't notice you disappearing during dinner. You're supposed to be my bodyguard, not some... some—" 

"Charming rogue?" I offered, grinning. 

She threw her hands up in frustration. "You're impossible." 

"Impossible or effective?" 

She didn't answer, instead turning on her heel and stalking into her room. I watched her go, the door slamming shut behind her. 

With a sigh, I straightened up and headed to my own quarters. My fire clone had returned by now, merging back with me and bringing its memories along with it. 

It had gone well with the minister's daughter—better than I'd expected, actually. She didn't have much in the way of concrete information, but she did mention overhearing something about masked individuals frequenting a particular warehouse in the city. 

I made a mental note to check it out later. For now, though, I had a grumpy princess to deal with—and I wasn't about to let her win this little game of ours.