Mother’s voice was equal parts disappointment and wonder. She’d lost an opportunity for one daughter, gained the same for the other. Elisabeth knew it wasn’t her ideal outcome, but it still made Mother important in the ways she always wanted.

“We have a lot of work ahead of us,” she said. “Helene would have been prepared, but you …”

Helene flinched. Elisabeth started to reach toward her, to squeeze her hand, but Helene closed herself off, hugging her torso, and left the room.

Mother continued, “We’ll have to start immediately. Tomorrow.”

Elisabeth didn’t answer. Instead, she followed her mother and sister out of the room, down the marble staircase, and into the high-ceilinged hall. She stopped at the bottom of the staircase, where a map of Habsburg stretched across the floor nearly wall to wall—intimidating, enormous, powerful. More than half of Europe. Soon to become her responsibility. Her duty. She shivered, the weight of it all starting to sink in.

She stepped back, watching her skirts swish across the map, her land. The weight of the duty she’d chosen was a fearsome thing. But there was excitement at its edges. Because with duty came the power to change things. The power to address injustice. The poverty she’d read about in books. The reasons the people had wanted Franz dead. Responsibility wasn’t only a bridle on her adventures; it was a map to the future. A map to a better Habsburg.

She’d always thought she’d have to choose between obligation and her heart. But in the end, the choice hadn’t been duty or love. It had been both or none. She’d chosen both, and she’d choose the same again.

“Sisi, are you listening to me?” Mother stood, hand on hip.

Elisabeth straightened, held her gaze. The complete dismissal of her preferred name scraped against her yet again. It was time for that to end. “Call me Elisabeth.”

Mother didn’t answer. She simply left the room, crossing from cool marble onto humid drive.

Elisabeth tore herself away from the map. She was delaying on purpose, pushing back against the journey. Hours upon hours stuffed into such a small space with Mother and Helene. Mother unbearable in her ambition, Helene unbearable in her pain. She wished she could stay there. Or go directly to Vienna. She wanted to climb back behind the curtain with Franz, to unbutton the fourth button on his uniform, the fifth, press a bare hand to bare chest and feel the heart beating there. She imagined her own would take up the same rhythm.

“Sisi!” Mother’s voice echoed through the halls.

She’d dallied too long. She sighed and forced herself to leave the hall. But from behind her, through an open doorway, an unfamiliar voice reached out and hooked Elisabeth’s attention. “Don’t worry, Your Imperial Majesty, even the wildest grass bends.”

Elisabeth stopped, strained to hear.