Elian's POV
*****
[Warning: Host might be having a full-on existential crisis. Proceed—]
"Can you not, right now?" He grunted, snapping his neck before bringing his gaze back to the reflection on the large mirror in front of him.
Night had arrived and with it came the time for Lucian's official address to the people of Lunaria.
Preparation and anxiety hung in the air, maids scurrying around, attending to the high folks who'll be present for the address. And amongst those "high folks" was Elian.
"For the last time..." He swatted a maid's hand away from his collar, glaring at her. "I can handle my collar myself. By the gods, don't you guys know a thing about personal space?"
There were three other maids in the room, either staring awkwardly at him or arranging his rumpled bed and picking out trinkets.
The maid he yelled at shrank back, placing her hands in front of her face as she bowed. "F–Forgive me, master Elian. But they're orders. You need extra attention now and—"
