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Back The Empress Save as PDF
Chapters (68)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1853
  4. PART I
  5. ONE
  6. TWO
  7. THREE
  8. FOUR
  9. FIVE
  10. SIX
  11. SEVEN
  12. EIGHT
  13. NINE
  14. TEN
  15. ELEVEN
  16. TWELVE
  17. THIRTEEN
  18. FOURTEEN
  19. FIFTEEN
  20. SIXTEEN
  21. SEVENTEEN
  22. EIGHTEEN
  23. NINETEEN
  24. TWENTY
  25. TWENTY-ONE
  26. TWENTY-TWO
  27. TWENTY-THREE
  28. TWENTY-FOUR
  29. TWENTY-FIVE
  30. TWENTY-SIX
  31. TWENTY-SEVEN
  32. TWENTY-EIGHT
  33. TWENTY-NINE
  34. THIRTY
  35. THIRTY-ONE
  36. THIRTY-TWO
  37. THIRTY-THREE
  38. THIRTY-FOUR
  39. THIRTY-FIVE
  40. THIRTY-SIX
  41. 1854
  42. PART II
  43. THIRTY-SEVEN
  44. THIRTY-EIGHT
  45. THIRTY-NINE
  46. FORTY
  47. FORTY-ONE
  48. FORTY-TWO
  49. FORTY-THREE
  50. FORTY-FOUR
  51. FORTY-FIVE
  52. FORTY-SIX
  53. FORTY-SEVEN
  54. FORTY-EIGHT
  55. FORTY-NINE
  56. FIFTY
  57. FIFTY-ONE
  58. FIFTY-TWO
  59. FIFTY-THREE
  60. FIFTY-FOUR
  61. FIFTY-FIVE
  62. FIFTY-SIX
  63. FIFTY-SEVEN
  64. FIFTY-EIGHT
  65. FIFTY-NINE
  66. SIXTY
  67. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  68. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Helene had been reveling in her sister’s desperation for months, soaking it in like a sponge whenever she could see the hurt in Sisi’s eyes, the way her silences landed like blows. But now, suddenly, it brought her no joy. Only the guilt that had been lapping gently at her all this time. Only a sense that she should be protecting her sister and wasn’t.

Still, Helene wasn’t ready to speak. Wasn’t ready to give in to a momentary change in feeling. She twirled the olive in her glass, ate it.

“How many times do I have to apologize? I’m sorry! I’m sorry! You know I’m sorry!”

“You’re drunk.” Helene kept her voice even.

“I know.”

“That’s not how a future empress behaves.” Her silence had been a dam, and now it was open—all her uncharitable thoughts spilling out.

“Helene …” Sisi’s voice was soft, fragile, a snowflake melting at the slightest touch. “It just … it hasn’t been an easy day.”

“I’m sorry you thought it would be easier.”

There was a malicious kind of justice in it, watching all of Sisi’s chickens come home to roost. But who had Helene become? A woman stirring her martini and smiling at a sister destroyed and hopeless? The malice and guilt wrestled for her soul.

Sisi turned to leave, but Helene had one more jab for her. One more cruelty broken free from the dam of her feelings. One more victory for her malice. “You always do that, you know, when things get hard, you run away. It’s time to grow up, Sisi.”

Sisi’s own hurt spilled over, aiming Helene’s cruelty back at her. “You know who you’ve become?”

She paused.

“Our mother.”

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Helene watched as her sister disappeared around the archway, down the hall. Was it true? Had she become as small and cruel and petty as their mother? Was Helene training herself to leave her softest feelings behind and aim all of her hardest ones at the people around her, the people she was supposed to love?

Then Maxi was back again. His breath sweet with grapes and liquor, tickling her ear. “I give their puppy love three months. What do you say?”

And there was the familiar anger. But this time, to Helene’s surprise, it wasn’t pointed at Sisi. It rose up, hot and powerful and familiar in her chest, aimed at Maxi. At Franz. At Mother. At the court. All this time, she’d been punishing Sisi and herself—but there were so many other places that anger should live.