Elisabeth rubbed a thumb against the thick, silky fabric of the curtain, a breeze tickling at the back of her neck through the open window behind her. All three girls had climbed out that window time and time again in games of hide-and-seek—and whenever they needed a fast escape. Though she supposed Helene wouldn’t stoop to climbing down the trellis and into the grass any longer, now that she’d lost her sense of adventure. Now that she was supposed to marry the emperor.

It was worse than that, Elisabeth realized, because Helene would be unadventurous and distant and gone. Marrying the emperor meant moving to Vienna. And leaving Elisabeth behind with—

“Where are you?” Her mother’s question was followed by a frustrated, almost animal noise, and it was so startling, so close, that Elisabeth jumped and Spatz put a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. Mother had managed to come into the room without them hearing—a feat with her normally heavy footsteps.

Elisabeth regained her composure, winked at her sister.

“For heaven’s sake, Sisi. The duke will be here any minute!”

The duke. Mother’s great hope for Elisabeth’s future and one of the most pompous humans in existence. Mother was hoping he’d propose today; Elisabeth was hoping he’d fall off his horse on the way.

Another set of footsteps rushed into the room. A maid, for certain. Helene wouldn’t stoop to rushing anymore.

“She isn’t even dressed yet? That can’t be!” Mother said.

Elisabeth rolled her eyes. Any minute was an exaggeration. The duke wasn’t due for several hours. She smiled at Spatz, raising an eyebrow. Neither of them were anywhere near dressed—both in white nightgowns, bare feet, hair wild and not yet brushed.

Emboldened, the sisters peeked around the curtain. The maid was holding Elisabeth’s dress for the day—ruffled and glamorous, decked out with ribbons, but so stiff with starch that it looked like it could stand on its own. Perhaps that was the answer to the day’s woes: the dress could stand in for Elisabeth. She doubted the duke would notice if it didn’t have a real woman in it. In fact, he might think it an improvement.

They watched as Mother clutched dramatically at her side and leaned heavily on the poor, put-upon maid, who struggled to support both her and the stand-alone dress.

Despite her nerves, Mother looked perfect, as usual, her own dress a deep shade of green with a plunging neckline and puffed sleeves. A floral necklace drew the eyes to her delicate throat and perfect bone structure. Mother’s hair was honey hued and her features elegant, a stark contrast to the dark locks and playful faces of Elisabeth and Spatz. Helene, on the other hand, had inherited her mother’s golden tones and graceful movements, and she had also now adopted the propriety to match.