The Feast

Devrim squirmed beneath the servants' touches. They pawed at his clothes and clipped his hair, even daring to shave the tiny bit of stubble from his face that he had spent months trying to grow. Outside of his duties as Emperor consort, at home he was generally left alone to his own devices. His personal servants knew he liked his space, and only assisted him when they were requested. In the wild, he had gone slightly feral. No one was around (except Aurora) to see what he looked like, and he had enjoyed the freedom. The amount of attention and preening that was now occurring was a shock to his system. The treatment was akin to torture.

Finally, the work was done. "Would you care to take a look, sir?" one servant asked. Devrim reluctantly walked to the looking glass. He had on a long emerald green robe over a white shirt. His waistcoat was the same stunning green  and sat above brown pants and dark knee high boots. The cloth was fine and Devrim wondered if all guests go