“But strangely, they do have one thing in common.” Maxi’s voice was mock seriousness. He stopped on the landing, eye-to-eye with Franz. “They don’t like you.”

Franz paused, anger and a sense of danger grating across his skin. This wasn’t news. Franz knew they didn’t like him. He’d felt it in the jeers of the crowd at the execution. One danger gone, a thousand more still waiting, knives at the ready around dark corners.

When Franz said nothing, Maxi took up his thoughts again. “I’m joking, Franz.”

He wasn’t.

“But seriously, I’m worried. We are not popular. Well, you, that is.”

Franz’s heart beat harder, his throat tight.

“The common opinion is that Mother gives the orders and you’ll shit your pants if the French or Prussians come. But don’t worry; I always told them you haven’t shat your pants in years.”

“Thank you, Maximilian. That’s enough.” Franz was finished with Maxi’s childish humor. Finished hearing rumors and opinions and threats he already knew, especially from someone who should be his ally.

Maxi didn’t back down. “They say you have no vision.”

That one hurt. Franz had so much vision he ached with it, so many things he’d love to do. A railroad to connect the empire. Roads and canals, too. Business would thrive under his rule. He was sure that he’d achieve his aims. If only they would let him live long enough to share his plans with everyone.

Maxi lowered his eyes. “But what do I know? I’m only the Habsburg mascot.” He started to walk away, throwing his last words back over his shoulder like they didn’t matter. “Let me know if you need another barn christened.”

Only weeks ago, their mother had asked Franz to bring Maxi back to court. He’s floundering, she’d said, wanting to rein him in. She was right, Franz had since realized. But for Franz it wasn’t just about Maxi needing purpose. It was about the danger of his purposelessness. The easy way his brother made enemies. The easy way those enemies might support a rebellion. Maxi might be more of a liability away from court than in it, where Franz could keep an eye on him. Franz had decided to keep the danger close.

He bridged the gap between them with one sentence. “I want you to return to Vienna with me.”

Maxi turned, studying Franz’s face for the joke.

“As my advisor,” Franz finished.

Maxi was speechless: a first.

“I need someone at court I can trust.” Never mind that Franz didn’t fully trust his brother. Didn’t trust his impulsiveness, the cold-hearted way he reveled in hurting others. Didn’t trust the smile he was giving Franz now, closed and amused.

“I’ll think it over,” Maxi replied with a triumphant smirk. As if the offer hadn’t been everything he’d ever wanted.