“I’m afraid I’ll become another Annabel,” she looked confused and uneasy. “That feeling of reprimanding was so satisfying. I felt like I was possessed, unable to control my emotions. How am I different from Annabel?”
“No, Willy, listen to me,” Albert said seriously, “First, you did well; you didn’t lose control. Second, you did nothing wrong. You’re entitled to be angry. You’re a queen, but you’re also human.”
Wilhelmina closed her eyes and hugged her husband’s waist.
“I’m so glad you’re by my side, Albert.”
The royal turmoil was just a small wave in the grand election.
The final round of voting was set for January 4th, with Hans Borg ahead of his opponents, which was not surprising.
A week before the voting, Christmas arrived. This year was different for the royal family due to the queen’s religious beliefs, marking their first Christmas together. After facing many unhappy events, Wilhelmina hoped for a warm celebration. She invited relatives and friends and had the Palace Ministry decorate a tall Christmas tree in the courtyard.
Gifts filled the room, the fireplace burned brightly, and rabbit meat roasted on a rack. Guests enjoyed champagne and snacks, chatting happily. To ensure fairness, Wilhelmina invited Hans Borg and candidates from the Liberal Party.
“Today is Christmas Eve, a time for gathering. I hope everyone enjoys themselves, without discussing politics, affairs, or vegetarianism,” she announced.
Guests laughed and raised their glasses. Wilhelmina mingled, enjoying the festive atmosphere, although she noticed tension between Angela and Cairns.
As midnight approached, she saw Sir Wolf enter solemnly, nodding at her. The excitement faded, and she paused, putting down her glass to approach him.
Albert quietly left the party to follow her.
In the hallway, Wilhelmina and Sir Wolf stood face to face. The middle-aged chief secretary kept his head lowered.
“What happened?”
Wilhelmina took a deep breath and calmly spoke.
“The rebel forces have kidnapped Annabel. I suspect she has defected.”
“Why?” Wilhelmina asked, puzzled. “You’re aware of the power of the D-H3R poison gas. That would be an infamous tragedy for the Hans Borg dynasty.”
“First, Willy, I have confidence in the Security Bureau. They won’t let the tragedy unfold. They can stop this terrorist attack at the most critical moment. Secondly, nothing can rally the people to support us more than a terrorist attack.”
