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Back The Empress
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

A table was set with elaborate cakes piled with flowers and fruits. There were pyramids of cream puffs and bowls of pink candies. The ceilings were high, the chandelier glittering, the room full of well-dressed well-wishers, and Franz—standing at the front of it all, facing the guests—had never felt so alone.

Well, except for the day he’d almost died.

What are you going to do, Franz? his heart asked. The answer was a trap: betray empire and family, or betray himself.

He wished he could ask Elisabeth what to do—and the irony made him want to laugh with despair. She was the one he wanted advice from, and she was the last one he could ask. They were in the same room, and yet they might as well be worlds apart. And hadn’t she made her feelings clear when she left? Wasn’t her leaving the answer in itself? Wasn’t it that simple?

Except, it wasn’t. Because of the kiss. Because she had seen him, and Franz had seen her too.

The doors opened and a parade of servants filed in. “For he’s a jolly good fellow,” they crowed, their voices echoing off the ceiling.

Across from him, the weekend’s guests stood smiling, each holding a Champagne flute, ready to toast to his birthday, his health. Franz tried to catch Elisabeth’s eyes, to find an answer in them. Which meant more: the kiss or her departure?

She avoided his eyes. If Franz hadn’t been in a room full of dignitaries, he might have wept with frustration.

Helene stood next to Elisabeth, bright-eyed and smiling in a fashionable pink dress. Her hair was prettily knotted behind her slender neck. Her smiles were another weight across his shoulders. It wasn’t her fault there hadn’t been an immediate spark, the recognition of like to like. And now he was letting her down no matter what happened. He’d marry her while loving her sister or he’d turn her hopes to ash alongside his mother’s.

The song ended. The servants filed out. Sophie nodded slightly at Franz.

It was time.

Elisabeth’s gaze flickered up and caught on Franz’s for just a moment. A single heartbeat. One beat of a sparrow’s wings. And Franz knew.

He knew what he was going to do.

THIRTY-THREE

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ELISABETH WAS FALLING APART, UNRAVELING FROM THE inside out. She felt strangely cold in the stiflingly hot ballroom, naked even in her seafoam jacket and modest dress, skirt billowing wide. The large comb holding back her braids was like an anchor weighing her down. How ironic it was to look like an angel and be trapped in hell. Waiting for the death knell on your dreams, waiting to have to pretend to be happy about it.