Free The Second Empress by Michelle Moran

“Ferdinand, I will always love you—if I’m in Austria or France.”
    “But when will you return?”
    I look into his eyes. He is such a handsome boy. If only God had blessed him with good sense. As it is, someone will always have to be there to guide him. If I had married Adam and lived my life in Schönbrunn, it would have been me. But now someone else will fill this role. I reach out to caress his hair, and his tears wet the palm of my hand. “I don’t know when I will be back,” I admit. “But you can write to me anytime you wish.”
    “Can I visit?”
    I swallow the pain in my throat. “If you behave.” But this is a terrible lie. Although there may be talk of his dull-wittedness and ill health, no one knows just how devastating the seizures are. Our family has been diligent in hiding them. It was cruel enough for my father to see one child suffer, but when Maria-Carolina’s fits started, too … It isn’t fair. But then, Christ never preached about fairness. Only forgiveness and faith.
    I exchange a look with Maria, who is too upset to speak. “I want you to keep studying while I’m gone, Ferdinand. Father is depending on you. I want you to memorize your letters, and every new thing you learn, you must write to me about it. Will you do that?”
    “I will,” he swears.
    “And be kind to the cooks. They can’t bring you apricot dumplings every morning.”
    He makes his sad face, and even through my tears, I laugh. Then there’s a sharp knock, and the three of us freeze. My father’s page has returned. And this time Adam is with him.
    “They are all assembled and waiting, Your Highness.”
    Adam crosses the room and takes my hands. “I’ll look after him,” he swears.
    “He needs so much help, and Father isn’t patient—”
    “I am.” Of all the soldiers in Schönbrunn, only Adam took the time to teach Ferdinand how to ride. And it was Adam who bought him his first set of brushes so that he could be like me and paint.
    I look into Adam’s face and wonder how I will ever manage to live without him. “I will miss you so much,” I whisper.
    At the door, my father’s page is waiting with his eyes averted. Adam’s love for me is no secret, and when I greet Napoleon, it will not be as a blushing bride. The man clears his throat, and I cling to Adam tightly.
    “It’s time,” Adam replies, and his voice is thick.
    Maria takes my arm, and suddenly it is real. We pass through Schönbrunn, and the courtiers step back as if we were part of a funeral, not a bridal procession. A few bow deeply as I go by. They know the sacrifice I am about to make, and how a commandment from Napoleon is second only to a commandment from God. He rules the Western world, from Rome to the Netherlands, and not even the church has power over him. I am marrying a man who has been excommunicated, an emperor who has divorced his first wife without the pope’s consent. Since the church has not granted him a divorce, what am I to be? My father says he has allowed Joséphine to keep her title. So we are both to be called Empress.
    When we reach the courtyard, a small, silent group is waiting for me. In addition to my father and Prince Metternich, there is my sister Maria-Carolina, who never speaks, and my youngest sister, Anna, who is holding her stuffed bear and weeping into its fur. Even my youngest brothers are here. Every face is solemn except Metternich’s. If he is to come with me to France, I will never put my faith in him. Never. Perhaps he did not arrange this marriage himself, but someday, when I have gained Napoleon’s trust, I will mention Metternich’s name, and he will tell me that my father’s adviser was the one who first suggested me to him. I am confident in this.
    “Metternich is to ride with us,” my father says. He looks old, his face marked by the heaviness of loss. “The prince has advice he would like to give you.”
    I follow Maria into the royal carriage, and Metternich begins by