“This is an academy for royal and noble children. It has also been open to outstanding students and children of civilian financial magnates for ten years, which means there will be some bookworms and nouveau riche.”
Annabel raised her cup, laughed contemptuously, then took a sip.
Wilhelmina added, “I hope it will be fun there.”
Annabel hid her smile behind her teacup, asking, “What school did you attend in Monsranka?”
“Antanzhou National Third Junior Academy,” Wilhelmina replied. “It was so much fun! We had a small zoo with rose dogs and tap sheep. Do you know tap sheep?”
When they get scared, they start dancing tap!”
“How interesting,” Annabel said perfunctorily. “I think Boston Academy might be a bit boring for you. The coursework is heavier than national schools. But you are a royal child, you inherited your family’s excellent mind, and I think you will manage.”
Wilhelmina frowned. The little girl who had always basked in the sunshine and never experienced competition was fragile like a flower bud in a storm in front of this vast and orderly system.
Annabel elegantly drank her milk tea. She had always received elite education, every movement standard and beautiful. Compared to her, Wilhelmina seemed rustic and clumsy.
What would happen if this lonely child was given unlimited indulgence and love?
Annabel stared at Wilhelmina, who was burying her head in a sandwich, her gaze deep, sparkling with ambition. She didn’t know that her expression had been captured by Hans Borg, who was standing behind the flower room door.
After the tea party, Annabel bid farewell, gracefully walking past Hans Borg, who bowed.
Watching her cousin leave, Wilhelmina yawned and said, “You’re back, Owen. Was the training course interesting?”
“I learned many skills, Your Highness.”
“Sounds boring,” Wilhelmina tilted her face innocently. “Annabel said I can go to Odin Royal Academy in autumn.”
“Yes, Your Highness. Do you want to go?”
“Sounds interesting,” Wilhelmina smiled. “Today was great; Annabel said we’ll be best friends from now on. Owen, I have a good friend now.”
Hans Borg raised his eyebrows slightly. “I’m happy for you, Your Highness. You’ll have more friends.”
However, Annabel’s friendship was proud and distant, with a condescending charity, not as good as a hair of Kerns.
