"Sunset, your tail is on fire."

"Princess Celestia," she snapped, "please!"

Sunset had endured enough criticism today. Sunset, you are slouching. Sunset, your mane needs brushing. On and on they came, part of propriety crash-course for a banquet honouring some visiting dignitary. They made her blood boil, those little barbs.

So maybe her manners weren't princess-perfect. So maybe her magic went a little wild when she was upset. So what? It's not like she wanted to be at the dinner anyway.

Her nose pricked. "Is something..." She looked down, gaze following a coil of smoke. "Ack! My tail's on fire!"

Author's Note

Written for the April 2017 prompt "Getting Warmer"