Mariusz's nameday celebrations begin long after the winter sky has turned dark. I cannot fault Celina on her planning. The palace drive is lit up by hundreds of burning torches laced with copper salt to turn their flames green. A green carpet leads from the entrance hall through to the ballroom where a stage has been constructed at one end. It is bedecked with vines and moss and sprays of leaves, all set under a canopy of forest-green gauze dotted with glinting pieces of broken glass. A great wooden chair sits on the stage, a wicker box at its feet. The only other set piece is a black cauldron some distance away. Sprays of leaves are hung about the ballroom — not in regular patterns, but in all sorts of strange ways. A spray of mistletoe hangs above a portrait of Dowager Duchess Maria and her dead husband. A crown of holly is affixed to a stag in a painting of a woodland hunt. Vines twist around the chandeliers. It smells like a herb garden. On the floor, green chalk marks out a maze of confusing, contradictory arrows and signs. I can read some of them. One says, "Don't look back" and another says "Beware the wolf". Before the party really begins, when our guests are thin on the ground, Dominik finds great amusement in running around trying to find his way out of the maze. I don't think there is an exit. I think it just goes round and round in circles. As more guests come into the room though, the maze is obscured by their feet, and the chalk slowly polished away.

Dominik is sent to bed before the footmen give out the first round of drinks. These are green too, thimble glasses of absinthe. Celina, on the stage, gives a short speech and urges us all to drink to Mariusz's health. I stand next to Mariusz in the middle of the ballroom and take a sip of my drink. It tastes like a bitter fennel tea and makes me grimace, which in turn makes Mariusz laugh.

"Be careful with the absinthe," he says. "It comes at you from behind."

Before I can asks him what he means, eerie lute music starts playing from nearby and sweet, thick smoke rises mysteriously throughout the room. I squint through the crowd. The lute player must be hidden behind the stage, and the smoke is explained by bowls of burning dried herbs sitting on the footmen's trays. One of the footmen starts sneezing which rather ruins the effect.

Three men swoop and dart through the smoke, doing cartwheels and flips, their long green capes arcing behind them like wings. They make strange, bird-like cries and a drum joins the lute, getting faster and faster with the men's movements.

I step discreetly back from Mariusz's side. A man swoops past me, his cloak brushing against my bare neck. He kneels before Mariusz and shouts out. I think it must be just sounds, not words at all. The other two men swoop in and surround Mariusz. The smoke grows thicker and thicker, and the drum drowns out the footman's sneezing.

The drum stops. The lute falls silent.

The biggest of the men, a complete beast, well over six feet tall and barrel-chested, lifts Mariusz onto his shoulder like a child. Mariusz pretends to struggle, but I think even if he meant to try for real, he could not have escaped.

The smallest man, who up close I can see is not much more than a boy, perhaps younger than me, points to the stage and shouts. I catch the words home and prince.

Slowly, softly, the drum starts up again like a heartbeat. Following its pace, the men make a solemn procession to the stage. The crowd parts as they move through the room. The smoke is starting to dissipate now. By the time they reach the stage, it is little more than wisps lingering in the air, and the footman has at last stopped sneezing.

The big man sets Mariusz down in the chair. The boy produces a length of green ribbon and solemnly winds it around Mariusz's hips and thighs, tying him to the chair. Mariusz is starting to enjoy himself. He makes a great show of shouting at the boy and pretending to try to get free. The big man holds Mariusz down so that he can't. While they are arguing, the third man, who is tall and classically handsome, takes a crown of pine needles from the wicker box and holds it aloft. He gives a speech to the crowd. I recognize the words prince and gold and freedom.

Behind him, the other two manage to get Mariusz successfully tied to the chair. The ribbon is so loose it threatens to fall off. Mariusz tucks it closer under his legs. I suppose they must have been too afraid of hurting him to tie him down properly.

The lute starts up again, playing triumphant music this time, and the handsome man carries the pine-needle crown to Mariusz and places it reverentially on top of his pondweedy blond hair.

"Our prince," he says, and I am pleased with myself for understanding. The sentence that follows, however, eludes me.

The lute falls silent again and the actors wait. Valery steps forward from the crowd where he has been standing next to Celina. He goes up onto the stage and speaks to the actors. From his tone, I think he is complaining, or perhaps insulting someone. The actors stamp their feet and cross their arms and deny his claim, whatever it was. Valery sighs and pats at his pockets. He extracts several large silver coins and holds them in his upturned palm, saying a phrase. The boy actor gestures Valery towards the cauldron. Valery throws the coins into it.

"Is that enough?" he asks.

The actors shake their heads. "Not enough. We want more."

I get very used to those phrases over the next hour or so. I also learn the phrase Valery used — I offer you this. Everyone seems to say it as they go up to the stage and give the actors their coins. When Dowager Duchess Maria goes up, she uses it, though what she offers is a sable-trimmed cloak and sable-trimmed gloves. The actors make a big show of trying them on.

"Too small," the big man says, and hands the cloak to the boy.

"It's too big," the boy says, and hands the cloak to the handsome man.

It fits the handsome man rather well. He struts about the stage in it, making everyone laugh. All of a sudden, he throws it off and scratches himself madly. I don't understand his complaint precisely — too itchy, I imagine — but the boy picks it up and tosses it next to the box at Mariusz's feet with another phrase I cannot identity.

"We want more," the actors say in chorus. "We want more."

The game continues. It does not demand the full attention of the guests who, if they have had their turn to give coin, investigate the food tables and stand in groups to chatter and drink champagne. I wait until the cauldron is nearly full of coins before I come up to the stage with my present for Mariusz, hoping that people will not watch me. But it is always more interesting to see a real gift being offered as the actors invent amusing reasons to reject them all, so most of the ballroom have their eyes on me.

"I offer you this," I say in Selician.

I have been silently practicing the words in my mind as I wait, trying to get them as close as possible to what I hear. I can tell it is not at all correct, but the big actor smiles as he takes the present from me. It looks tiny in the great paw of his hand.

"What is it?" he asks, opening the box.

"It's a..." Unprepared, I struggle to recall the word. "It writes."

"It writes." He stares at the quill and pencil within. "What is writes?"

The boy snatches the box from him. He criticizes the big man loudly. I recognize the word stupid, which I have learned from Florian. His language is faster and much more complicated than the big man's, and I can understand no more than that. He takes the quill from its mooring and sticks it jauntily in his nest of fair curls. The handsome man puts his face in his hands. He seems to be lamenting the others' stupidity. He retrieves the quill from the boy's hair and the case from the big man. Carefully, he puts the quill back in its place and shuts the case. He points out the engraved message to the others.

"This is writing," he says, and slowly reads out the message.

Remembering the words I chose, my cheeks flame. I had not imagined anyone but Mariusz would read them. I dart a glance at him and find myself trapped by his return gaze. The curve of his mouth is both amused and contemptuous. Perhaps he is as embarrassed as I am, or perhaps he is offended by my insincerity.

Our guests are easier to please. A sentimental sigh echoes around the room, punctuated by warm laughter.

The boy grows contemptuous. He is not impressed by writing. The big man pretends to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye and gestures for the handsome man to give the pen set to Mariusz. The handsome man tries to argue, but the big man is louder. The pen set, too, goes into the wicker box. Once again, the actors give the chorus, "We want more, we want more," and I am free to leave the stage.

The moment has left my heart racing, so I find a footman and get myself a glass of champagne. While I am drinking it, Konrad appears suddenly at my side. It is the first time we have spoken since I ended our lessons. He smiles warmly at me as though we did not part on cold terms two days ago.

"That was a pretty little message. Do you know what it meant?"

"I wrote it."

"I did not think you knew the words."

"Mariusz taught them to me."

"Oh." He removes a speck of invisible dust from the sleeve of his coat. "From the way you blushed up on stage, I thought perhaps the message was a lie."

"I blushed because it was true."

I have the fleeting triumph of making Konrad fall silent. Celina is on the stage now, and I want to watch her. I want to see what she gives Mariusz. She must give him something, for Valery went up to the stage a second time with a bottle of spirits and Barany gave him a set of ivory dice and counters.

Celina holds out her hands flat, palms raised. She seems to be saying that she has no coin to give the actors.

"I have nothing," she says — a phrase I can understand. She adds further phrases which I do not. Then comes the now familiar phrase, "I offer you..."

It is followed by a word I do not understand. The boy actor shouts with glee and Mariusz sits up straight and stares at Celina.

By my side, Konrad laughs softly. "Do you know what that word means?" he asks. "Pocelunok?"

"It has not come up in our lessons."

"Mariusz did not teach you? So he will call you 'my darling' but he will not tell you to give him a kiss?"

The flame returns to my cheeks, hotter this time. "If she dares!"

But she has dared, and the actors are performing their usual farce about her gift. Celina watches them smugly. They seem to be arguing about which one of them will get the kiss. It becomes physical. The boy shoves the big man, and the big man clips at the boy only to miss and get the handsome man instead. It becomes a brawl. The guests laugh and call out. The big man, naturally, wins, knocking the others' heads together and sending them groaning to the floor. He turns around and marches towards Celina. The handsome man, still groaning on the ground, shoots out one long arm and trips him.

The big man goes down like a felled oak. The handsome man stops groaning, somersaults to his feet, leaps over the big man, and stops in front of Celina, grinning.

Celina puts her hands to his cheeks and kisses him. It is not a polite kiss. After a moment of surprise, the actor's arms close around her. Her hands shift to his shoulders. Some of the guests whistle and clap. Mariusz looks at the wicker box at his feet.

"You look upset," Konrad observes.

"It is distasteful."

"It is only a kiss. I am beginning to think you are rather prudish about kisses. But perhaps that is just your culture. Rothalians, I think, can be a little cold."

Up on the stage, Celina disentangles her lips and arms from the actor's. She is pink-cheeked and luminous.

"Is it enough?" she asks coyly.

The handsome man looks at his fellow actors. They nod.

"It is enough," they say in chorus. "Now, it is enough."

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2025-01-12: Oh my, oh my. The drama. And there is more to come, for the party continues long into the night.