Duty. Elisabeth had thought she could embrace it as long as it came with love. But this wasn’t love and duty. It was being kept away from love for the sake of duty. It was isolation and violation and no quiet, intimate moments in between to make up for them.

“I’m sorry that the sacred ritual was uncomfortable for you.” The priest smiled at her.

How dare they call something like that sacred? Elisabeth looked at Franz, his face etched with concern, and it gave her strength.

“A sacred ritual? Oh, please excuse my error. It felt like two men looking up my skirt.”

Behind her, a tray of glasses smashed to the floor, the noise startling every person in the circle. Elisabeth turned and saw her mother, pale-faced, standing over the wreckage.

To her right, Maxi lost his composure, laughing incredulously and pressing a hand to his mouth. “Pardon me, Mother. Pardon.”

The priest didn’t let the conversation drop. “You seem agitated, my child. No need to get hysterical.”

Another spike of anger arced through Elisabeth. “I’m not hysterical.”

Franz put a hand out to her, his eyes worried. “Is everything all right, Elisabeth?”

Before she could answer, Sophie answered for her. “Perhaps the bride could use some rest.”

Elisabeth blinked. Some rest? Was Sophie sending her away from her own party for telling the truth about this afternoon? For refusing to stand by and pretend it was all normal? She hadn’t had power when it was happening, hadn’t felt like she had a choice, but she thought she’d have her power back standing next to Franz. Thought that he liked that she spoke her mind. Thought that he would stand up for what was right.

She looked to Franz, eyes pleading.

“I don’t think that will be necessary, Mother.” His voice was soft as he studied Elisabeth’s face.

Elisabeth turned to face the priest again, ready to demand an apology. “I—”

“Franz,” Sophie interrupted, the tenderness of before long gone. “It was a long day for your bride. We want everything to go well tomorrow, don’t we? Elisabeth should rest.”

Elisabeth looked at Franz again, waiting for him to defend her.

Instead, he inclined his head. “It has been a long day. A little rest would do you good, Elisabeth.”

Her heart twisted into a knot as her mind flashed back to the day Puck died. She’d stood there covered in blood and dirt, drained of tears, bled of hope, and Helene—then the most important person in her life—hadn’t asked her if she was all right. Had prioritized the meeting with the duke over Elisabeth’s feelings. And now? Now Franz was her most important person, and he was betraying her in exactly the same way. Couldn’t he see that her anger had reason? Couldn’t he feel her distress?