Excerpt: 'The Accidental Empress' by Allison Pataki

HEA shares an excerpt from Allison Pataki's The Accidental Empress, out this week.

First, here's the blurb about the book (courtesy of Howard Books):

Fifteen-year-old Elisabeth, "Sisi," Duchess of Bavaria, travels to the Habsburg Court with her older sister. This new imperial world is everything Sisi imagined it would be — lavish, imposing, a palace of beautiful rooms and even more beautiful courtiers. Best of all, however, is the handsome and charming young man who presides over it all, Emperor Franz Joseph, the world's most eligible bachelor.

The only problem is that this dashing young man is already engaged — to Sisi's elder sister. Shortly after her arrival at court, Sisi finds herself in an unexpected dilemma: she has inadvertently fallen for and won the heart of the emperor. Intrigued by Sisi's guileless charm and energetic spirit, not to mention her unrivaled beauty, Franz Joseph seems ready to renege on his earlier proposal and declare his intention to marry Sisi instead.

But is happily ever after really in the cards for these two star-crossed lovers? Not so fast…

EXCERPT

"Elisabeth?" Franz stood before her, wearing an expectant smile, like the one he'd shown her earlier that day, on their ride.

"Yes?" Sisi paused before him, her heart protesting against the suffocating cages of her ribs and corset. Oh, how she hated wearing this vile thing! Suddenly, she felt as if she could not breathe, and her hand clutched her abdomen.

Franz, oblivious of her discomfort, or perhaps mistaking it for an appropriate measure of well-mannered timidity, kept smiling. "Would you do me the great honor of dancing?"

Sisi, her mouth dry, her eyes wide with panic, looked from Franz to Grünne. Then she looked back toward Helene, and her mother. And Aunt Sophie. Every set of eyes in the hall watched her. Young women, women whose names Sisi did not even know, had splintered off into clusters of two and three to watch and whisper.

Franz smiled at her, undistracted.

And so, seeing no other option before her, Sisi gave him her hand and forced herself to smile.

The violins began, and two dozen couples filled in the space to the left and right of the emperor and his chosen partner.

Sisi moved her feet in time with his, following Franz's lead, as she had done with Grünne. Franz did not hold her as tightly, did not lead as assertively as her previous partner, but the song was clear and upbeat, and she grew more comfortable as the steps unfolded.

"You do me a great honor, cousin." Sisi swayed opposite him, very much aware of his hand on her waist. Aware of the different emotions that chased one another, wrestling and fighting within her. How happy she was to be standing this near to him. How natural it felt to be close to him. And yet, how far from natural this whole assembly truly was. How probing and curious were the eyes affixed on her from around the hall, causing a swell of discomfort, the urge to flee and hide. And then there was the guilt. The sister who sat, watching, her hopes surely crushed by this latest blow. It wasn't supposed to be me, Sisi thought.

"Once again, Elisabeth."

Her eyes slid upward, toward his.

He watched her with an appraising smile. "You are lost in thought, once again."

"It's simply that ... well, you do me a great honor. But I'm not certain why."

Franz continued to look down at her, his features alight, his auburn hair catching the glint of the candle light that flickered around them. "Isn't a man entitled to dance with the lady of his choosing on his birthday?"

Sisi avoided Helene's eyes as their steps took them gliding past her seat. No one had asked her sister to dance. Not once. Sisi swallowed hard, hating herself, yet soaring on the elation of Franz's attention. How was it possible to roil with so many conflicting feelings at once, she wondered?

"I think ... I very much hope"—Franz's voice interrupted these thoughts of hers—"that it shall be a happy birthday for me. A birthday to remember."

Sisi looked into his eyes but found it impossible to hold his stare. To ask him what he meant. As her gaze slipped away, she caught a glimpse of Aunt Sophie, who watched with her own eyes narrowed. And then, inexplicably, Sophie flashed a broad smile. But it was not a look of delight. It was a communication. A message: Everyone is watching you. Smile! You're standing opposite my son, the emperor!

Sisi reacted with a valiant effort at a smile. Her lips quivered. And then, abruptly, the song came to an end.

How could she return to her seat, how would she face Helene? But there were footmen surrounding her now, bearing baskets full of flowers—roses, poppies, edelweiss—which they held out toward the emperor. The music had stopped, its sound replaced by the tittering of whispers that filled the hall. It took every speck of her willpower to remain in place rather than to flee.

The whispering ceased as Franz plunged his hand into this fragrant pile of petals and grabbed two fistfuls of blooms. Sisi looked on, as did the rest of the court. It was so quiet now that she did not know if anyone in the room even breathed. There was some ritual being performed, but she could not comprehend its meaning.

And then, Franz took his full hands and bowed before her, dropping the petals so that they rained down in a fragrant shower at her feet, dappling the pink of her simple gown. The entire court erupted in uproarious applause as Sisi looked on, dumbly.

What was this? Why was everyone clapping? Why were people calling out her name? Unsure of what to do, but certain that to weep in public was the worst of her options, she mumbled: "Cousin Franz, please, excuse me."

And with that, while the applause still drummed around her, Sisi fled from the hall. She did not look back into the room—did not wish to see the bewildered face of Franz or the unapproving grimace of Aunt Sophie. She couldn't bear to see the dashed hopes of her mother. But, above all, she had no idea how she would ever face the confused, stricken look of Helene.

Find out more about Allison and her books at allisonpataki.com.