Henryka and Zofia are supposed to be my ladies-in-waiting. It is an arrangement that pleases none of us. For me, it is an insult. Zofia is only twelve. Her company annoys me, and she is of service in no more than the most menial of tasks, for which I would rather ask a servant. Henryka, at fifteen, is not entirely too young for the position, but she and I do not like each other. Besides, I know all too well that they have only been chosen because the other women of the court refused to take the role and Henryka and Zofia are unable to refuse their mother's request.

Being alone would have been preferable, if boring. Being with Mariusz would have been best. He continues to sleep in our honeymoon bed at night, leaving me the chaise, and we breakfast and dine together each day, but outside those moments, he is never to be found. Sometimes I send Zofia in search of him, but there are many hiding places in the palace and grounds, and she always returns unsuccessful. I suspect that sometimes Zofia lies to me, and says she does not know where he is when she does.

A spate of wet, stormy weather improves my chances. I make Henryka and Zofia take me about the palace, pretending I am interested in the portraits or the histories of the rooms. Really, I am looking for Mariusz. Passing through a gallery, I hear raucous laughter and chase the sound, despite Henryka's protests. It leads to a small parlour in which Mariusz is playing billiards with his fat friend, who I now know is Count Barany, and the man who brought the goat to our wedding, Lord Valery, while a handsome blonde woman, Countess Celina, watches from a sofa drinking wine.

When I enter, she says something in Selician, making Mariusz laugh and miss his shot. Henryka and Zofia exchange shy greetings with the others.

"Would you like to watch?" Henryka asks me in French.

"Can I play?"

Countess Celina says something in Selician, addressed at me, I think. I frown at her. "I beg your pardon?"

She repeats it, making all the men laugh.

"What are you saying?" I ask. "Do you not speak French?"

Her answer is not in the language. I look to Henryka, who blushes. "She says she does not wish to speak French."

"You can't play," Mariusz says in my language. "We are in tournament. Be quiet, and you can watch."

Celina says something to him in Selician, and he rolls his eyes at her. He returns his attention to the billiard table. Celina smirks at me from her sofa. It is the only seat in the room close enough to watch the game, and she lounges on it, her skirts spilling over the cushions. I do not wish to drag other furniture closer.

"Please give me room," I say in French. I know she will ignore it, know too that she understands it, and when she remains where she is I sit down upon her skirts as if they are part of the furniture.

The smirk on her face becomes a frown. She tugs her skirts from under me and sits straighter.

"Fetch yourself some chairs," I say to Henryka and Zofia. "We are going to watch the tournament."

The two girls go to get chairs. Celina pours herself another glass of wine and casts a sidelong glance at me. A contemptuous smile spreads across her face. She says something in Selician.

"I don't understand," I say in my own language.

She sips her wine, still smiling.

No wonder she and Mariusz are friends. They have the same sense of cruel humour, to say things that hurt people for amusement. At the very least, Mariusz is not laughing now. He is watching Count Barany line up his shot, his eyes narrow. Only Lord Valery is smirking at Celina.

Zofia and Henryka return with their chairs and sit near me. Celina asks them something, and they respond in negative, polite tones. I want to know what she is saying, but I know if I ask she will only laugh at me more.

"Speak in French," I tell the sisters. "Or don't speak at all."

Zofia hides her glare by looking down at her hands. Henryka flushes pink. Mariusz looks up as Count Barany takes his shot.

"My sisters will speak any language they like in their home," he says in Rothalian. And then something else in Selician, which I assume must be a repetition of it.

He turns back to the pool tables and swears in Selician as a ball shoots neatly into a pocket. Count Barany laughs and lines up his next shot.

Countess Celina says something else to Henryka, who, after a long pause, makes a short reply. Zofia takes up the conversation with a defiant glance at me. Celina is only too happy to continue it, but a few moments later, Count Barany sinks the final ball and the room erupts into clapping and cheering. Mariusz shakes Barany's hand and regretfully hangs his cue on the rack. Celina jumps up from her chair. It is her turn to play, apparently, against Lord Valery. She makes a big fuss of having Mariusz chalk her cue for her, pressing it into his hands and chatting merrily — and loudly — all the while. Henryka watches this with one side of her mouth faintly curled upwards. Lord Valery, with ostentatious gallantry, approaches Zofia, who shyly chalks his cue for him. The curl on Henryka's upper lip deepens.

At last they are ready to play. Celina opens the game with a shot that sends balls ricocheting around the table. The men clap, but she has not managed to sink one. Valery steps forward for his turn.

It seems that neither Celina nor Valery are very good. Every few turns, one of them manages to pocket a ball, but then they trade misses for several more. I cannot see very well from my sofa. At length, I stand up and come closer to watch the play. I used to pretend to play as a child, but I was too short then to reach the table properly, and besides, I was never sure about the rules. It is a graceful game. Lord Valery displays every long inch of his body to advantage when he bends over the cue, and Celina swirls her skirts elegantly around her hips as she leans on the table to reach a distant ball. I think I would look good playing it, and I am annoyed that I missed most of Mariusz's match.

I hover near him. "I would like to learn how to play. Can you teach me?"

Celina, waiting her turn, interrupts in Selician. Mariusz scowls at her.

"No," he tells me in Rothalian. "I don't want to."

Count Barany smiles at me and makes a series of wild gestures and expressions, which I can only assume are an attempt to describe the game of billiards.

"Do you not speak French?" I ask.

"Non... no... nein?" he says grinning. I can't tell if he is making fun of me or not.

Valery is waiting for his turn, as Celina is having some success with the balls at last. He says something to me in Selician. I look to Mariusz, who is watching Celina play. I turn to Henryka, sitting on her chair, looking quietly annoyed with us all. She lowers her gaze.

Valery continues speaking to me. I am sure it is to me, for he looking intently at me and smiling. I cannot understand a word he says. I know that he can speak French very well too, and probably a little Rothalian.

"Please, can you not speak French at least? You know I can't understand you."

Valery shakes his head and continues to speak Selician earnestly at me. He is so heartfelt and sincere that Celina, leaning over the billiard table, laughs so much that she flunks her shot. Valery grins and goes to take his turn. Celina scowls and stands back to observe the table. There are only a few balls left on it, and with a little luck either might win.

Mariusz says something to her, perhaps advice on how she should play. She shakes her head and says something pert in response. Barany adds his opinion. Valery, leaning over the table, shushes them and squints at the ball. I long to know what they are saying. Perhaps later Henryka will explain it to me, but right now she sits back with her arms crossed and a thin line between her fair eyebrows.

Valery shoots — and misses. Celina squeals with delight and claps her hands. Mariusz tries to tell her something, but she shakes her head and talks over him. She stalks around the table, eyes narrow, planning her target.

She leans over, long arms holding the cue, full skirts rising over delicately turned ankles. All the men are watching her, even Mariusz, and I have the sudden suspicion it is not because of the game. She must know it, too, for she holds the pose far longer than necessary.

She shoots, and the white ball ricochets around the table, missing all the targets, and right into a pocket. Valery laughs deeply. Celina looks annoyed. Mariusz says something and she snaps back at him.

Valery takes the white ball back from the pocket and lines it up. His next shot doesn't sink a coloured ball, but it does knock one closer to a pocket. Celina watches, teeth pressing on her bottom lip, as he makes his shot. The ball goes in and Valery cheers.

There is only one coloured ball left on the table now. Valery makes a show of marking the angles with his cue and squinting at it from various angles. Celina says something sharp to him, but he only laughs.

"What did she say?" I ask Mariusz.

"Shush." He is watching Valery intently.

At last, Valery makes the shot. Luck is with him now, it seems, for the ball shoots sharp and straight into the pocket. The white ball is left alone, a few inches from a pocket. Valery saunters closer, lazily folds his long body over the table, and knocks it in.

Celina scowls, then turns to Mariusz and says something with a wry smile. The back and forth that follows threatens to take the shine from Valery's victory. He looks annoyed. Even Barany's overloud congratulations do not remove the frown from his face.

"Is there another game?" I ask Barany in French. "Will you play Valery now?"

Barany blinks at me. Perhaps he really doesn't speak French. Celina turns from her conversation with Mariusz, meets my eyes, then gives a gut-deep sigh. She breaks away from her conversation, pours herself more wine, sinks to the sofa, and drinks it deeply. Again, all the men are watching her. There is something theatrical about her movements; it demands an audience. She says something, a suggestion, perhaps, for all the men seem to assent. Valery holds out a hand to help her back to her feet. Barany opens the door. They are leaving.

I am sure it cannot be over, for this is meant to be a tournament, but perhaps they have lost interest. Mariusz barks something at Henryka and then leaves the room after the others.

"He said we may play here," Henryka says. "Do you want to play?"

"I don't know how." I glance at the table. It does not seem hard. I could learn with practice, but I am not sure about the rules. "Wait here."

I go out into the hall. Mariusz is halfway down it, following his friends. I run after him. He turns before I reach him. He does not look pleased with me. His friends go on ahead.

"Will you teach me?" I ask. "How to play, I mean."

"I do not mind if you play, as long as you don't mark the..." he frowns. "...the cloth on the table."

"Baize, I think."

"Baize?" He considers the word. "Interesting. No, play all you like, but not with me, and keep the table nice."

"But I don't know how to play. Can't you teach me?"

"I don't want to. I told you, there is no need for us to be friends. I already have friends." He jerks his chin towards the end of the hall, where the other three are waiting for him.

"They are very rude. They might have spoken French so I could understand."

"Boris does not speak French. He speaks only Selician. If we accommodate you, Boris cannot understand. Besides, why should we speak French in our own home?"

"It is the only way I can communicate with most people here! With my servants, with your sisters, with your mother."

"Yes. And I have noticed that your French has improved markedly since you came here. Your Selician, on the other hand, seems to be the same as it ever was: non-existent. And I am forever having to speak to you in your own language, without ever hearing you speak mine. It is a burden. It is your burden, and you are making us carry it."

"Then teach me your language so I am not a burden."

Mariusz strokes his chin. "Is it not also a burden to teach? No. This is your problem, not mine. If you wish to speak my language, you must learn. It should not be hard. You are surrounded by it." He grins at me and says something incomprehensible in it, then turns on his heel and goes after his friends.

I watch them turn the corner and disappear. Celina's laughter rings out behind them. I am sure she is laughing at me, and I hate her.

"Princess Alexandra?"

I turn. Zofia is standing in the doorway of the billiards parlour.

"Are we going to play?" she asks. "I want to play."

"Right. Yes. Let's play."

At the very least, I can learn to hit a ball with a stick by myself.

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2024-05-03: Some more side characters get names. I enjoy fleshing out and hinting at their personalities through Alex's point of view. She's sort of observant but not always perceptive.