A few days after Christmas, I run out of excuses for missing my language lessons. I go down to the library hoping Konrad is still suffering from his migraine.

I am not so lucky. He is in one of his flattering moods today, and when I inquire after his health, spends quite five minutes expressing effusions of gratitude for my inquiry. When he has thoroughly exhausted that topic, I think we might start upon the lesson at last, but he has more to be grateful for: Irena has shown him the bookmark I gave her and she is delighted with it.

"It is a pretty small nothing," I say in Selician. "I am happy that..." I pause to wrangle my brain around the reflexive verb. "...that she liked it."

"But even a pretty little nothing means so much to my wife," Konrad says in Rothalian. "She does not expect people to think of her. I did not expect you to think of her. I did not know you knew her so well."

"I don't know her well," I say stubbornly in Selician. I am quite sure I chose the wrong case for the phrase, but Konrad offers no correction.

"In fact, it puts us a little at your disadvantage," he says in Rothalian. "For we have received a gift from you but never given one, and a gift deserves a gift."

"Gifts are not favours." My Selician fails me and I fall reluctantly into Rothalian. "Neither you nor Lady Irena are at a disadvantage. It was only a very small present."

"You put my heart at ease." Konrad offers me a timid smile. "Perhaps, then, I might offer you a token of my admiration without it being seen as audacity?"

He slides a box out from behind his pile of books and pushes it across the table towards me. It is the same sort of velvet jewellery box that Mariusz used to give me the keys to the hunting lodge, the same size too, only this one, I know, will not be hiding anything so unusual as old, tarnished keys.

"That would be more admiration than is proper," I say.

Konrad pulls the box away, looking hurt. "I only mean to reward your efforts in learning such a difficult language. I thought you would like it." He opens the box to reveal a miniature book. "You are always asking to borrow Florian's dictionary."

My heart skips several beats in embarrassment and only catches them up when my cheeks start to burn. It is only a pocket dictionary after all. Of course Konrad would not be so absurd as to buy me jewellery. Even if I am correct in my suspicions that he admires me too much, he cannot be such a fool as to think it would be at all appropriate.

"We should start the lesson," I say. "We are running out of time."

"Of course, of course," Konrad says in Selician. He makes a big fuss of opening and organising his books and deciding which page to turn to. "However, I was thinking..." He reverts to Rothalian. "...It is time to broaden your education."

"Pardon?"

"There is only so much that you can learn out of books in this library. You need to be reading more, listening more. Irena mentioned that you expressed interest in attending the opera. It could be an educational event for you."

"No more than attending dinner, I should think. I am surrounded by Selician every day. I don't need to seek it out through entertainment."

"But it is not the same. A driving narrative, the spectacle of theatre, it clarifies the context of the language and its message. What you hear at dinner must be mostly obscure to you, unless it is something very commonplace, such as pass the salt." Konrad frowns. "But perhaps you are not interested in the opera after all and were only trying to make my wife happy by talking of it."

I am tempted to say yes, to get Konrad off this topic, but if I do, I am sure he will repeat it to Irena and spoil things between us. "Opera would be an interesting diversion, but not for the chance to hear Selician. Besides, I assume the opera would be in Italian or German."

"But, no. Not Ruslan and Ludmila. It is a Russian opera, so it translates very nicely to our language. I think that must be why it is so popular here. Personally, it is a little sentimental for my taste." He looks critically at me. "You do not strike me as a sentimental woman. You probably won't like it either."

"What do you mean I'm not sentimental?" Somehow it sounds like an insult.

Konrad shakes his hands apologetically. "I hope I have not offended you. It is a compliment. Far too many women are completely at the mercy of their emotions. Tears are so disabling."

The image of Mariusz, tears gleaming gold under candlelight, slips unbidden into my mind. I did not cry like that for my father when he died. I did not cry at all. And I am sure — quite sure, despite Konrad's sincere gaze — that I am the deficient one.

"I really think you must be one of the most rational women I know," Konrad continues in a soft voice. "You contain your feelings in the neat little cage of your heart and you never let them control you. You never cry, you never show a hint of sorrow or fear. No matter the insult, the provocation, you never lose your temper. You always do what is right for the occasion. You will certainly be a wonderful ruler... if Mariusz ever lets you out of his shadow."

"What do you mean? I have no part in ruling this duchy. I cannot."

Konrad looks surprised. "But nothing forbids you from it. In fact, you are the duchess, it is expected. You are meant to be more than ornament to Mariusz's coronet."

"Both King Edmund and Prince Mariusz have made it very clear to me that I am not."

"And you so unquestioningly follow their orders? I am surprised. I thought you had more spirit than that."

"I would not wish to have more spirit than sense. I cannot speak Selician and I am widely disliked. No one would support me were I to take any active part in politics. I am inadequate even as an ornament, I fear."

Konrad drums his fingers softly, slowly on the table. He has forgotten entirely about the lesson it appears. "Does it not occur to you that both King Edmund and Mariusz might have ulterior motives for not wanting you to take part?"

"King Edmund certainly does. Mariusz... he has no desire to rule himself. He rules reluctantly. But he makes a wise decision in keeping me away from it. I am too unpopular to help him."

"He does not see your potential," Konrad says. "His brother Adam would have had you visiting hospitals and giving toys to orphans on Sundays, and advising his ministers by Monday morning. You would have liked Adam. Everyone did. It's no surprise Mariusz can't follow in his footsteps. Adam was talented."

"So is Mariusz. I've never met anyone in my life so clever with languages as he is."

"Certainly, he is very good with languages." The stress Konrad places on the word makes it sound more like an insult than a compliment. "If he had a little more application, he would be quite the academic, I believe. But a good ruler needs more than academic understanding. Adam was talented with people."

"Mariusz is not untalented with people."

Konrad does not even raise an eyebrow, he merely meets my gaze, waiting.

"Well, you can learn to understand people," I argue. "To work with them. He hasn't had as much as practice as Adam, no doubt. Adam was meant to be the king and educated accordingly. Mariusz was not. I think for someone who's been thrust into this role unexpectedly by the death of his brother, he's actually doing very well. It's not easy for him. None of this is easy for him. He's trying very hard."

"Yes," Konrad says slowly. "That is quite my point. It is not easy for Mariusz because he is not very good at it."

Against that implacable logic, I run silent. The silence grows prickly. Konrad rearranges his hands across his pile of books. He has not yet opened one today. He has fluttered their covers, rearranged their order, thumbed their pages, but he has not shown me a single word of what is within. We have spent more time speaking my language than the language I am meant to be learning.

"We are not here to discuss Mariusz. We are certainly not here to disparage him. We are here so I can learn Selician."

"Of course, of course." Konrad takes a book out of the pile and flutters its covers. "Though I might suggest, your highness, that I may be of use to you for more than simply language. I could help you understand Selica, its court, its people. Even its politics. As I said, you are meant to be more than ornament."

There is the hint of a challenge in the last word. I resent it, and resent also the soft, sly smile Konrad gives me with it, as though we are sharing in a secret.

"You promised to teach me the language, yet we have been here some twenty minutes already this morning and you have taught me nothing. Are you asking for the opportunity to further disappoint me? I deny it. From you, I have no interest in learning anything but Selician."

Konrad's cheeks flood scarlet. The colour lends sudden animation to his doll-like blue eyes, ripples the perfect regularity and symmetry of his features like a jagged stone thrown in a silent pool. And, like ripples in a pool, the disturbance reveals something lying beneath, something shadowed and mired and ugly.

He composes himself before I can define it. His face leaches slowly back to white and he laughs a little awkward laugh. "I am afraid I must beg an apology, my dear princess. I have been a poor friend to you this morning. My mind has been on other matters and I was unable to stop myself from musing aloud upon them — to you, who certainly does not care to hear my unworthy thoughts, who certainly would prefer her time is spent in learning." He gets up from his chair, comes around the table, and kneels at my side, his head bowed. "Pray accept my apology."

I am too embarrassed to speak.

"Your highness?" he says to the floor.

"I accept your apology." I say it only to end this uncomfortable moment. "Stand up."

But he does not stand up. He takes my hand as if to kiss it. I snatch it away and stand up so quickly my chair topples over behind me.

"I did not say you could kiss me."

"It is tradition in this land to accept an apology with a kiss." Konrad looks up at me with wide, hurt eyes. "It heals the wound."

"It is not my tradition." My heart is racing unpleasantly and I have to force myself to meet Konrad's eyes. "I have no more to learn from you, Prince Konrad. Not languages, not culture, not politics. Certainly not tradition. I have learnt enough. There will be no more lessons."

"Ach, I have overstepped! Please, allow me to apologize, once more, for my thoughtless actions."

"No." I cut him off before he can begin another humble, humiliating speech. "I am finished with our lessons, and I will not let you waste any more of my morning with an apology I do not wish to hear. Good day, Prince Konrad."

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2025-01-05: Happy New Year, beautiful readers!!!