She throws a smirk over her shoulder, heading toward the kitchen. “I can do whatever I please, Sylvie. The sooner that you hear my demands, the sooner I will be out of your hair. So let's hurry it up.”
I trail after her, my eyes widening. “Are you serious right now?” I ask as I walk into the kitchen. “Did they have to pick someone who was such a bitch to deal with me? Because I am not inclined to work with you. Actually, scratch that. I'm not inclined to work with anyone. I wish that you spies would all talk to each other and get your stories straight.”
She checks her silver watch, looking bored. “We have your sister, Sylvie.”
I look up at her, my expression puzzled. “What do you mean you have her?”
Ms. Olson pulls a phone from her pocket, showing me this screen. A video starts playing of a younger version of myself, standing in front of the Royal Palace. The cameraman says something inaudible to Stella. Stella smiles right into the camera and says, “Bonjour! My name is Stella and I am here in Copenhagen, on the first leg of my European tour…”
Mrs. Olson turns the phone off, looking at me pointedly. “We have her here. She doesn't know that you even exist. She thinks that she has won a songwriting contest and is now on the tour to represent France.”
My heart beats loudly. I stare at the phone though the screen is powered off, not quite able to put it all together. “And what are you going to do with my sister, exactly?”
“That's up to you. If you do what you are supposed to do, Stella will continue on her European tour and nothing will happen to her. But if you don't, the man that filmed this video will hurt her. You understand that? Stella's life is in danger.”
I stare at her face, trying to weed her expression. But she is solemn and there is nothing more to read there.
I lick my lips. “And what is it that you want from me?”
She smirks a little. We want you to behave yourself. That means that you'll acede to any and every demand that is put to you by the royal family. You will wear the wedding dress that has been picked out for you, dance to the song that has been selected for you, and generally be a perfect princess all through the wedding. And then, the real work starts. You will keep track of Lars’s movements and report everything back to me. Oh, and you will absolutely have Lars is children. That's not in question.”
My heart sides. My first inclination is just to laugh in her face. But my gaze is drawn down to the phone again. I don't know that the video that she does showed me is even really Stella, although they did find a young woman that looked remarkably like the photo I saw on the internet. If she's an actress, she's a good one.
I must take too long think to think about it because Mrs. Olson claps her hands at me, startling me. “You are taking too long to respond. I'm not here to offer you a plethora of decisions. I'm here to tell you exactly what is going to happen from here on out.”
I squint at her. “How do I even know that this the woman that you have on video is really my sister?” I give my head a tiny shake. “I mean, for all you know, that may not be the way to control me. I may be heartless. I may not care.”
Her lips twist into a cool smile. “I think we've already established the fact that you do care for Stella.”
I narrow my gaze at her. “You're threatening me with the harm of someone that I am not even sure is actually my sister. I'm trying to tell you now that I could very easily just tell you to shove off.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Is that so?” She reaches down to the phone, turning it on and dialing a number. She puts the phone on speaker.
A man answers. “Hello?”
“Kill the girl,” Mrs. Olson says. “Make sure you capture her death on film.”
“Are you sure?” the man asks.
Ms. Lowe's and looks at me, raising a brow. “I don’t know. Am I sure, Pippa?”
I stare her down for a good five seconds before slowly shaking my head. “No,” I mutter.