As she stepped back from the kiss, she saw Helene clapping in the front row, tears of her own tracing curves down her cheeks. She was happy for Elisabeth, really happy. Elisabeth’s heart soaked it in, full to bursting. So much happiness around her: Franz glowing like one of their lanterns, Helene smiling love through her tears, Spatz clapping enthusiastically, Mother bouncing on her heels, her smile self-important now that she had an empress for a daughter. Papa looked more reserved, but Elisabeth knew he’d come around. Franz just had to corner him with a good cigar and a description of his railroad dreams. Her father would love it.

Franz and Elisabeth left the church together, hand in hand. The people outside pressed in.

“Elisabeth!” they cheered. “Elisabeth, we love you!” The sound made her heart swell.

The sun danced down, warming them through. And they both boarded the same carriage. It was time to go home.

Home.

The palace was her home now.

No, that wasn’t exactly accurate. It wasn’t the palace. Franz was her home. Wherever he was, that was where she’d fortify herself to love and fight and defend. Here. Bavaria. The moon if necessary.

When they reached the palace, the party was just beginning: glittering chandeliers with a thousand candles overhead, Champagne on the terraces, mushroom tarts sweeping by on trays.

“What happens now?” Elisabeth whispered to Franz as five couples graced the dance floor and bowed formally to each other.

“The court will dance in our honor. We only dance at the end of the evening.”

She grinned, the jokes bubbling up. “Oh, didn’t they tell you? Our dance is canceled to save your honor.”

He laughed. “I’m not that bad.”

“Well, we didn’t practice as much as we should. We got … a little distracted,” she teased.

“You know you’re an incredible distraction.” A kiss behind her ear, her whole body alight with him again.

A tug on her skirt tore her attention reluctantly away, and she looked down to see Spatz, eyes bright.

“I’ll be back,” Elisabeth said to Franz, as she turned and let her little sister pull her onto the terrace.

Once outside, in the cooling twilight air, she dropped to her knees and kissed Spatz on the forehead. Her little sister was dressed in a dark, stormy sea-blue gown with gold embroidery around its edges. A tiny, perfect thing. Elisabeth almost laughed at herself: two days at court and she was starting to appreciate the intricacies of gowns, the intricacies of beauty.

Spatz leaned in, whispering and wide-eyed. “You look like a fairy princess.”

Elisabeth nodded solemnly. “Fairy empress.”

Spatz’s eyes grew wider.

“You’re the one who looks like a fairy princess.” Elisabeth reached out to tug gently at Spatz’s skirts. “Or a water nymph, perhaps.”

“I am the ocean goddess,” Spatz said, serious, twirling so that her skirt billowed out around her.

Elisabeth laughed. Indeed, she was.