When she could take it no longer, she announced she was going for a walk and simply marched through Esterházy’s outstretched hands, through the grand double doors and labyrinthine corridors, and onto the grounds. Her ladies followed, flustered. Well, if they could keep up, let them. If they couldn’t, Elisabeth would find her solace in a forest grove. She might even lie down in it. She giggled to herself at the thought; Esterházy might collapse if she returned with her sunshine-yellow blouse streaked with mud and shards of wet brown leaves. Elisabeth would think it art, Esterházy an abomination.

These grounds were much more extensive than the Kaiservilla, and she felt immediate relief as she explored the maze of walkways. She almost laughed at how she’d thought the Kaiservilla was grand. From there to here was the difference between a bite of perfect cheese and a perfectly executed cheese soufflé. The intricacy of a feather compared to the intricacy of the whole bird. The villa had been one sprawling, beautiful building on equally sprawling, beautiful grounds. But this? This was a beautiful, sprawling city of buildings, surrounded by cobblestones and gardens stretching as far as the eye could see.

Elisabeth followed the perfect lines of manicured shrubbery, her heels crunching against the white gravel pathways. The sweet earthy smell of a sunny day after rain rose up to greet her. If only she could be barefoot, feel the softness of each fallen leaf directly on her skin.

The ladies walked behind her in perfect unison, hands clasped politely at their waists. Elisabeth amused herself by turning quickly down each path and watching the group rearrange itself to follow.

As she turned one sharp corner, she noticed an unusual bird standing in a patch of grass between the paths. It was regal, tall—taller even than herself—and bright white with a scattering of black feathers at the end of its back and an orb of orange red on its forehead tapering down into a sharp blue-gray beak.

Elisabeth approached through the grass, leaving all her ladies except one behind, none of them wanting to leave the path and dirty their shoes. She lowered herself into the grass, her violet skirt spreading around her.

“Have you ever seen such a thing?” she marveled.

“He’s looking at you,” Leontine said.

“Well, that’s because I’m new here.” Elisabeth tilted her head, wondering if the bird could tell humans apart.

“Not the bird, Your Highness.” Leontine leaned over beside her, hands pressed against her sky-blue skirt. “The archduke.” Leontine motioned with her eyes toward one of the hedges.