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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 held her sleeping sister tight. While Sisi wouldn’t find as advantageous a match as Helene had—there was only one emperor, after all—she was beautiful and bright, and if she applied herself, Helene was certain a most hopeful match would land in Sisi’s outstretched hand. She only hoped Sisi would open her heart to receive it.

In that moment, as her body warmed and she started to drift to sleep herself, Helene knew what she would do: she’d take Sisi along to Bad Ischl for the emperor’s birthday. Perhaps one of the emperor’s brothers might fall in love with her. Perhaps love would be the thing to tame her. And they could face this new phase of life together.

SEVEN

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FRANZ TRACED A FINGER ALONG THE NEW SCABS ON HIS palm, carved there that morning as he clutched his medal to keep the darkness at bay. It was strange how comforting a scab could be. It was something he controlled in a situation so far outside his control.

Now another situation outside his control was demanding his attention.

“The people’s anger, the unrest, the chaos … it will pass, Franz. It always does. Be patient.” His mother sat across from him at the ornate dining table, soup spoon poised above a bowl of hearty goulash.

Franz could see himself reflected back at half a dozen angles by the brightly polished platters, carafes, and spoons organized across the table. They made him look pinched and small, in stark contrast to the rest of the room, expansive with its high ceilings, long mirrors, and tapestries so deep they felt like windows to another world.

The room smelled of paprika and slow-roasted meat, and if he didn’t already know what his mother was about to propose, Franz would be devouring the goulash like a last meal. But his stomach felt too tight for that now, ready for what came next. He owed his mother his life, and she was coming to collect it.

“You know what the people need …” His mother looked at him seriously for a moment, then snapped her fingers.

Two servants swept in with the portrait that’d been sitting, covered, in the hall for the last hour. Earlier, Franz had peeked underneath and—surprise, surprise—it was another pretty noble girl, presumably one his mother was suggesting as his bride.

She’d tried it several times before, and he’d always managed to evade the obligation. He was unwell. He was still learning. He was too new to being emperor and needed his wits about him. The idea of marriage felt as stiff as his military uniform. It was another obligation on a life already so heavy with them. One more might crush him.