Je T'aime.

XVII. Muse

"Is that all, Your Highness?" asked a footman as he set the last of my trunks in the hallway.

"Ten, eleven, twelve. Yes, that's all. You can start loading things up now," I replied as I counted my trunks.

"Yes, Your Highness." the footman bowed to me before he motioned to his men to lift my trunks and move them to the wagons that were waiting outside of the palace. I winced as one of the laborers lifted my trunk carelessly. The heaviest one, I knew, was filled with my painting supplies. The lighter ones were all filled with my clothes and jewelry. Why must the most precious trunk be the heaviest?

The palace was bustling with activity. Today was the day that we moved to Hofburg for the winter. Footmen, butlers, and maids were rushing all around, carrying armfuls of miscellaneous items. The equerries and coachmen were busy attaching nearly all of the imperial horses to carriages, wagons, and carts, as well as saddling the mounts of the imperial guards.

A frigid wind entered the palace through open doors, which had been propped so that the servants could more easily carry things in and out. I was happy that I did not insist on moving my furniture or bed frame, as some of the others at court did. Technically I had two bedrooms, one at Schönbrunn and one at Hofburg. That was enough for me. I always hated the process of moving, but I was content once I was all set up again. "Damn you, man, close the door!" I heard a voice call down the hallway.

"Yes, Your Majesty!" was the frantic reply, followed by the door slamming shut.
I turned down the hallway and saw the source of the exclamation, my father. "Leaving the door open and letting out all of the heat. Were these people raised in a barn? I'll take the firewood bill out of their paycheck," My father grumbled. "Have you seen your brother anywhere?"

"Which one?"

"Leopold. I heard from his tutor that he enjoys drawing plans of his own forts. I have this box of architecture drawing tools that I used when I was his age. I wanted to give it to him." My father showed me the small wooden box he carried under his arm.

"He's probably off with Charles, wherever Charles is," I replied. "I haven't seen them since breakfast."

I noticed my father glancing over my shoulder, squinting as he looked through the window. "There's Charles, at least. But where's Leo?"

I turned to look out of the window as well. I saw Leopold emerge from behind a carriage, loading trunks into the back of a wagon. Charles leaned against a carriage wheel casually, taking a bit of snuff. I had to try and keep in a laugh as Leopold was nearly bent over backwards under the weight of the trunk. "There he is, helping to pack."

"Why is he doing that?" my father inquired. "He knows we have servants, right?"

I just shrugged. "He's just being a show-off, I suppose."

"My father laughed. "Or Charles paid him to do it."

"That could be very possible."

My father sighed, rocking his weight slightly backwards on his heels. "Finally, off to Hofburg. This old shack has been like an icebox."

I glanced around at the opulent palace that was laid out all around me. "The Hofburg isn't much better, but at least the windows seal all of the way."

"Do remind me, I'm going to get that fixed over the winter. Hopefully it's much warmer in Turin."

"Turin?"

"In Italy, where Benedetto lives."

With the mention of that bitter name, I dropped into silence. Ever since Albert's promise I had nearly forgotten about him. My Italian cousin, who had stabbed me in a dream. To me, that was more than enough.