The Bourbon Lily and the Masked Waltz
Galasho announced, “A telegram has arrived from Vienna.”
Ah, here it comes.
I shook out my wet hair and asked, “What does the Archduchess say? Come back immediately? Or will she punish me for wearing the mask and depose me?”
Hunyadi read down the telegram with a strange expression.
“…His Majesty the Emperor was greatly pleased to hear that the unrest in Venice has been quelled.”
“Huh?”
It was from Joseph?
“And… ‘Expressing gratitude to the Venetian citizens who protected the Empress’s safety, His Majesty has issued a decree effective immediately lifting the nighttime curfew in Venice and temporarily permitting the mask festival.’ ”
I let out a soft laugh.
Has my eldest son grown up a bit?
“And there’s one more private message.”
“What is it?”
Hunyadi paused for a moment before handing me the telegram.
“I want to see that masked figure myself.”
Ah.
My face suddenly heated up.
I leaped into bed, pretending nonchalance. “I don’t know. I’m going to sleep. We’re heading to Trieste tomorrow, so prepare.”
“Your Majesty, sleeping with wet hair will give you a cold.”
In the end, I was dragged back to the vanity by the maids’ hands.
*
The next morning, we arrived in Trieste; by late afternoon, we reached Gorizia.
I disguised myself as an ordinary noblewoman and entered the monastery.
Kostanjevica Monastery.
“Welcome.”
He greeted me with a sullen face.
A plain greeting with no regard for etiquette.
But none of the maids, guards, or anyone else could say a word to him.
“Pleased to meet you, Count Henri of Chambord.”
I extended my hand to him.
“…Shall I call you Henry V?”
I held a secret meeting with Henry V—also known among exiles as Saint Denis—in the monastery.
“To seek a king in this wretched exile—Your Majesty the Empress of Austria jests too much.”
Henri shook his head with a bitter smile.
“There is no Henry V here. Just an exile driven from France, Henri d’Artois.”
“Then let me correct the title. Lord Henri, head of the House of Bourbon.”
I observed the formalities with a solemn expression.
He was France’s last legitimate heir to the throne. The ill-fated prince swept away by the flames of revolution. And above all…
Joseph wouldn’t talk to those republican bastards even if he came back from the dead.
If there’s to be change in France, it’s better for us if a king we can reason with sits on the throne rather than revolutionaries.
I mentally calculated as I looked at him.
Time to buy some insurance for the future.
He scanned my appearance and caught on.
“What brings the Duchess here?”
“To meet my cousin.”
“Please, come inside. It’s humble, but I can offer that much.”
Henri turned and led me down the dim monastery corridor.
We descended silently into the basement with a candle, where three stone sarcophagi lay side by side.
France’s last absolute monarch, Charles X.
His son, Louis Antoine.
And… Marie Thérèse Charlotte.
I placed the prepared bouquet of lilies on her sarcophagus.
The lily, symbol of the French royal family. But now, a faded glory.
“My mother always said…”
Sorrow seeped from the word mother.
Probably referring to Marie Thérèse.
“That a monarch must not compromise. The cheers of the mob are mere foam, and only the authority granted by God is truth.”
The exact opposite path from what I’d shown in Venice.
“But Your Majesty the Empress… chose to captivate the masses.”
“The times have changed, Lord Henri.”
I turned to face him.
“People no longer want God’s vicar. What they crave is an idol they can project their desires onto.”
“An idol— a word that doesn’t suit Bourbon or Habsburg at all.”
For a Catholic monarch who firmly believed in the divine right of kings and revered the Ten Commandments, such words would never cross his lips.
“I’m not telling you to become Napoleon. But… even the Vendée flies the tricolor now, not the white flag.”
“Strange. Does Your Majesty think Napoleon will fall?”
Did it come across that way?
“Of course not. I’m curious what makes you surmise that.”
He didn’t respond to my words.
“Eugénie—aren’t you close to that woman?”
“Am I close to Napoleon?”
Henri seemed lost in thought for a moment.
For now, sowing the seed is enough.
There’s still over ten years left, after all.
“The lily is noble, but to avoid being broken, it must know how to sway in the wind.”
I turned toward the entrance. I’d said all I needed to.
Henry V would later seize the chance for restoration after the Franco-Prussian War but stubbornly insist on the white flag over the tricolor, kicking away the crown himself.
I hope my advice at least cracks that stubborn head of his.
“I’ll take my leave now. Someone’s waiting in Vienna.”
“…Someone waiting.”
Henri saw me off with an enigmatic expression.
“The Emperor of Austria is fortunate. To have such a shrewd partner.”
“Partner? He’s just my husband.”
I flashed a smile and left the monastery.
In the returning carriage, tension released, and fatigue crashed over me.
Now, back to Vienna.
*
While resting comfortably at Schönbrunn, Joseph finished his schedule and entered the bedroom.
His eyes scanned every inch of my face.
As if checking for injuries or if I’d lost weight.
“Your face looks half its size. Did Venetian food not suit you?”
Is he saying I’d gained weight?
“No way. I ate too well—that was the problem.”
“I can see you’ve suffered.”
…Did I eat something wrong? He wasn’t this character before.
Aha.
I gestured for Esterházy to withdraw.
“Is this the method you chose, Joseph?”
Gawking at his wife, playing the immature emperor?
Joseph paused, then let out a low chuckle.
The emperor’s mask slipped off, revealing the real Joseph beneath.
“My mother can’t be persuaded by logic. Especially regarding law and rules. No matter how good the results of what you did in Venice, if the process broke the law, to her it’s simply rebellion shaking the empire’s discipline.”
“So?”
“So I decided to play the fool.”
Joseph gently clasped my hand.
“The Emperor and Empress rule above the law.”
The warmth from his palm was comforting, yet trembling somewhere.
“So, where is it?”
“What do you mean?”
I played dumb, though I knew.
“I didn’t send that telegram.”
I carefully pulled the mask from my chest and showed it.
“This?”
Joseph took the white mask I offered.
A crude mask worn by Venice’s commoners—no gold leaf or jewels.
He thumbed its rough surface, then handed it back.
“Put it on.”
“Here?”
“I want to see it—that was the telegram’s content, as I recall.”
I smiled faintly and pressed the mask to my face.
My vision narrowed, breaths echoing inside.
I rose from the bed, lifted the hem of my chemise slightly, and curtsied to him.
Joseph approached and wrapped his arms around my waist.
“I’m jealous. The Venetians got to see this freely.”
“They’re my subjects.”
“They’re subjects, but I’m your husband.”
What emperor gets jealous of subjects?
Joseph lightly kissed the mask’s chin. Through the cold mask, I felt his lips’ warmth.
He whispered in my ear.
“A gloomy emperor lives in Vienna—won’t you comfort him?”
I smiled beneath the mask.
Outside, he acts the absolute monarch; before his mother, the lovesick fool. But before me, he turns into a spoiled child.
But I didn’t hate it.
At least this man doesn’t try to cage me.
“Comfort…”
I pretended to ponder, then wrapped my arms around his neck.
“No music, but we can waltz.”
Joseph chuckled and surrendered to my lead.
In the quiet bedroom, lit only by moonlight, we moved slowly.
No cheers like Venice’s piazza, no violin melody—but our heartbeats set the rhythm.
Twirling, his gaze pursued me relentlessly.
“Sissi.”
He untied the mask’s strings, claiming my revealed lips.
“Mm…”
The kiss deepened, breathless. Joseph devoured me like a parched man—or one fearing I’d vanish like mist again.
He lifted me gently onto the bed.
The mask thudded to the floor.
Joseph gazed down at me. Moonlight shadowed his face, but his eyes gleamed fiercely.
His trembling fingertips brushed my cheek.
“When I read in the report that you appeared in the piazza wearing the mask, I thought my heart stopped.”
“Angry?”
“No.”
Joseph shook his head, burying his face in my neck. His hot breath prickled my sensitive skin.
“You looked so free. I feared… you’d never return to my side, flying off into that freedom forever.”
“Joseph.”
I slowly stroked the back of his head buried in my neck.
“I didn’t run away. I just breathed in the place you gifted me.”
He lifted his head, eyes meeting mine.
I began unbuttoning his uniform.
The rigid armor of the emperor constricting him.
“And after breathing, you return to the water. Because you’re here.”
Buttons undone, his bare chest revealed through the shirt.
I placed my hand on his firm chest.
A heartbeat unbelievingly fast.
Joseph looked up at me.
“Vienna is water to you?”
“Sometimes. It chokes me.”
I laughed playfully, then removed the pins holding my hair.
“But not tonight.”
Clink, clink.
Diamond pins fell to the floor; my tightly bound hair cascaded like a waterfall.
Joseph’s gaze followed my hair.
He gathered a handful, kissing it reverently, then bent to kiss my collarbone.
Thicker, more intense than before.
“Mm…”
An involuntary moan escaped me.
Like a signal flare, his touches grew urgent.
He slid the chemise straps off my shoulders, kissing the exposed white skin.
“The Venetians couldn’t see this.”
He pressed insistently.
“Your expression hidden behind the mask. How you react to my touch.”
“Ah, Joseph…”
“Only I need to know. Just me.”
His usual restraint vanished;
jealousy and possessiveness laid bare.
I pulled his neck close, whispering in his ear.
“Yes. Only you know.”
Teasing him, I wrapped my thighs around his waist.
“So check. See what my face looks like now.”