A strange collection of people stood around the room, she noticed with surprise, some faces familiar and others less so. The most expected were Leontine, another lady-in-waiting, and some maids. Less expected was a man in a long, black coat and straight blond beard, balancing small, round spectacles on his nose. And then there was a priest—jowly and serious with a violently violet cap on his head and a matching drape over his robes. The color made his face look unsettlingly pink.

Esterházy motioned Elisabeth toward the bed. “You can keep your dress on, Your Highness. This won’t take long.”

Elisabeth blinked fast, the lightness in her body crashing back to earth. What did Esterházy mean? Of course she would keep her dress on. There were men in the room.

Esterházy waved her impatiently in, but Elisabeth stood still. “What won’t take long?”

“Dr. Fritsch is here to confirm the imperial bride’s virginity,” Esterházy answered without emotion. “And her ability to bear an heir to the throne.”

Elisabeth blinked again, her mind and body confused by the sudden shift—from love and light to something strange and unsettling. How would the doctor confirm her virginity? The question lodged in her stomach like a stone. Heavy. Unyielding. And why was Esterházy referring to her in the third person, as if she wasn’t there? Something about that was unsettling too. Like the woman was distancing herself from Elisabeth. From whatever was about to happen next.

“It is an honor, Your Royal Highness.” The doctor bowed.

Elisabeth only stared at him.

“Of course, the final decision about her purity and suitability for the throne belongs to our Lord. If she is impure, He will not bless the union.” The priest stepped forward onto the thick green Persian rug in front of Elisabeth’s bed, and Elisabeth’s mind cast back to Father in the carriage.

These people believe God himself chose them, he’d said. It had seemed a silly thing to care about at the time, but now Elisabeth felt the full weight of his warning. He’d been trying to say that people who thought God ordained them also thought that gave them the right to do—anything else they wished.

“As of tomorrow,” the priest continued, “you will be a vessel of God’s will.”

When Elisabeth didn’t respond, the doctor motioned toward her bed. “If you would lie down, please.”

Panic shivered through her, hot across her face and arms. She wanted to leave, but could tell from the look on Esterházy’s face that she wouldn’t be allowed to. Shuddering, she did as the doctor said, lying back on the bed, staring up at the golden curtains hung above it. She’d thought them whimsical before; now they felt heavy.