Just like that little girl, Hans Borg thought. Delicate, fragile, with soft thorns.
The hall’s large doors opened, with the Emperor leading his granddaughter by the hand, surrounded by his children.
“Tea is ready, Your Majesty,” Brück said, bowing.
The Emperor looked down at Wilhelmina. “Are you hungry?”
Although she wasn’t hungry, she instinctively nodded. “Good girl, let’s have something to eat. Your father loved lemon tea, and I hope you’ll like it too.”
As she was led towards the flower hall, Wilhelmina turned and saw Hans Borg standing in the crowd. He looked at her, his expression thoughtful.
Suddenly, she called out, “I want Owen!”
The Emperor stopped. “What, my child?”
“Owen!” Wilhelmina pointed to the handsome young military officer.
The crowd parted, and Hans Borg stepped forward, standing at attention and saluting, “Owen Hans Borg, from the State Council’s Permanent Office, Your Majesty.”
The old Emperor squinted at the young man in his early twenties, like an old lion sizing up a young lion.
“Hans Borg. What relation is Rudolph Hans Borg to you?”
“He is my grandfather, Your Majesty.”
“Oh, that old fellow.” The Emperor smiled. “How is his health?”
“Unfortunately, my grandfather passed away thirteen years ago.”
The Emperor was stunned and after a moment said, “Time flies so quickly.”
Hans Borg silently lowered his head, avoiding flattery.
After a brief silence, the Emperor spoke again, “Hans Borg, Wilhelmina likes you very much.”
“It is my honor, Your Majesty.”
Emperor Alexander looked down at his granddaughter. “You like him, don’t you?”
“He is very nice,” she answered innocently.
“Very good, very good,” the Emperor said, patting her hand, “Then go to your internal secretary.”
This simple sentence changed everyone’s expressions. Although there were thousands of officials in the State Council’s Permanent Office, only Hans Borg was instantly promoted to the palace’s internal secretary level.
In hushed whispers, Hans Borg bowed deeply, his expression hidden. The emperor turned and walked towards the flower hall. The newly appointed internal secretary immediately took his master’s hand and followed.
People speculated about the new favorite’s mood, but only Wilhelmina knew that Hans Borg’s palms were wet with sweat.
It wasn’t until afternoon tea began that Wilhelmina was introduced to her relatives, whom she had only seen on stereoscopic television and through birthday gifts sent by their secretaries. Now, she was face to face with them.
Alexander’s eldest son and imperial crown prince Heinrich, now forty-seven, resembled the late Queen Christa – slender, tall, with chestnut hair and a serious expression. Crown Princess Barbara, a middle-aged noblewoman, wore a forced smile and seemed slightly nervous, while the crown prince and his wife flattered the emperor.
The emperor’s second daughter, Princess Catherine, was a beautiful, talkative lady who spoke for herself and her physics doctorate husband. The third princess, Marianna, returned to court after divorcing last year, bringing her child with her. Often referred to as the “invisible royal,” she was said to resemble Queen Christa – pale, thin, and silent, rarely appearing in public and engaging in no charitable activities.
“I’m happy to see Wilhelmina looking more like Adam,” the crown princess said cheerfully, “and I’m glad she can grow up beside us.”
What could be more anticipated than watching a young girl blossom into a beautiful maiden, isn’t that right, Heinrich?” The crown prince responded dryly, expressing happiness about his young niece’s return to the court.
“It should have been done long ago,” Princess Catherine said bluntly. “I told Adam he shouldn’t have left a child so far away with her grandparents. Everything is still in time. An aunt can also be a mother, can’t she?”
“Don’t talk about her father’s shortcomings in front of the child. Adam wanted to bring her over, but Anne disagreed. Anne doesn’t like children,” the crown princess said.
“Just because she can’t have children doesn’t mean she doesn’t like them,” Catherine retorted. “Stop slandering the dead. The child is listening.”
The crown princess fell silent, turning pale and forcing a smile. The crown prince, indifferent to his wife’s humiliation, carefully cut his sandwich into isosceles triangles—an aspect of his obsessive-compulsive disorder that the royal family kept secret from the public.
“Oh, the children are back from school,” the emperor said, and everyone turned as several children rushed up the flower hall steps before even taking off their schoolbags.
“Grandpa!” a blonde girl exclaimed, throwing herself into the emperor’s embrace. “I got an A today! Would you like to see my test paper?”
The emperor affectionately said, “Annabelle, my honey, wait a moment. Come and meet your cousin, Wilhelmina.”
The tall, elegant blonde girl stood up, curtsying to Wilhelmina. Wilhelmina, eager to return the gesture, forgot the plate on her knee, and it fell, shattering completely. Startled, she froze in fear.
“It’s okay.” A large hand supported Wilhelmina, pulling her away from the broken porcelain. Hans Borg brushed cake crumbs from her dress, then ordered servants to clean up before silently returning to his position. Annabelle raised her eyebrows, observing him.
“Have a good sleep and don’t miss tonight’s dinner.” Annabelle put down her silk napkin and stood up, “Let me take Wilhelmina to her palace, Grandfather. I will take good care of her.”
“Good child,” the Emperor nodded, pleased. “I am happy to see you two so affectionate.”
Annabelle held Wilhelmina’s hand and led her to a small open-top vehicle. Hans Borg and the court deputy steward Brück followed in another vehicle with guards close behind. They drove through the imperial palace’s rose garden, the fragrance almost overwhelming.
“Do you like roses?” Annabelle asked.
“It’s okay,” Wilhelmina replied.
The young girl smiled meaningfully, avoiding her cousin’s question.
“I hope you can get used to court life,” Annabel said. “Brück will arrange an etiquette teacher for you. Once you can keep up with your lessons, you can attend school with us.”
“But my studies have always been good.”
“Oh, my dear sister, that’s not what I mean,” Annabel smiled gently. “I know you are excellent. However, we are not ordinary people. The knowledge we must master is just a little more than others. Do you understand?”
Wilhelmina nodded, half-understanding.
Annabel stroked her hair. “Such beautiful blonde hair. Grandfather will surely love it. Our great-grandmother, Empress Wilhelmina, also had beautiful blonde hair. Everyone says I look like her. Grandfather greatly respects her.”
Wilhelmina blinked.
The car passed through the forest and climbed a slope. Annabel took a deep breath, her snow-white arm resting on the car door, brushing her hair in the wind. She was fourteen, well-developed, beautiful like a rose about to bloom.
Wilhelmina looked back and saw Hans Borg smiling and chatting with Brück in the car behind.
“He is truly a lucky person,” Annabel said. “No one could so easily obtain the position of internal secretary. Grandfather truly dotes on you, or perhaps to make up for something.”
“I don’t understand,” Wilhelmina said.
Annabel laughed, “Every royal member has an internal secretary. My parents each have one, I have one, and Aunt Catherine and Aunt Marianna had secretaries before marriage. We thought Grandfather would let your father’s secretary continue working for you, but poor Sir Wolf has been replaced by an unknown young man.”
Wilhelmina felt instinctively disgusted by her cousin’s casual malice, noting that Annabel couldn’t hide her feelings well or simply didn’t care about her country cousin.
“However,” Annabel changed her tone, “I’m interested in him. How about you give him to me?”
