Part Twelve

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"Sylvia, how are you doing?" Harrison asked, positioning a stool in front of the cell.

The woman folded her arms over her chest and grunted, "Yes."

"It's been a week, Sylvia. I know that you understand more of our language than you're letting on," Harrison said as he sat down. With slow and ponderous movements, he tapped his leg with the tip of a quill. "The sooner we have a discussion, the faster you will be able to leave."

Sylvia shrugged and pointed at her ear, saying, "Yes."

As his fingers clutched the writing implement, Harrison's brow furrowed. "Sylvia, can we have a simple conversation?"

Her head whipped around while she drew out her monosyllabic response, "Yes."

Harrison gripped the bridge of his nose and took several deep breaths. "Fine, be that way. I'll be back in a moment." He rose to his feet and laid the papers on the stool and dropped the quill before disappearing.

After the tinkerer disappeared, Sylvia scurrying to the bars and reached for the seat. Despite her struggle, her fingertips failed to brush the edge of the wood. Her head slumped to the cold metal. Sylvia ran her fingers through her hair as she walked to the other side of the cell and jumped up, grabbing the rods of the small window. With a grunt, Sylvia pulled up and stared over the ledge. The sunlight danced across the cross-section of the walls, stretching into the sky. "I need to get out of here."

As Sylvia continued to star at the city, Harrison's pompous voice sliced through the silence. "That will not provide an escape."

Sylvia's fingers clutched the bars tighter at the intrusion. She studied the wall for an additional moment, before glancing over her shoulder, finding the tinkerer and another man outside her prison. Carefully she dropped to the floor and brushed off her legs. Clasping her hands behind her back, she sauntered to the front of the cell and leaned against the cold metal. "Yes," she touched her eyes, adding, "see."

"Sylvia, this is Jacob, the King of the Isles."

"Yes," Sylvia said, studying the regal figure.

The lean man gripped his smooth chin and glared at the woman. "Are you sure about this, Harrison?"

"I am."

"Fine," the king answered, gripping his elbow. "Then let's be done with her. Baxter, sharpen your ax." Jacob spun on his heels and muttered, "Someone needs to schedule the execution for some time today."

Sylvia's fingers tightened around the metal as she screamed, "No kill!"

Jacob stopped and clapped Harrison's back, "You were right."

"You sold your end well, Jacob."

"I'll let you take it from here," Jacob replied, strolling away from the cell.

Sylvia watched the king until he disappeared. Without looking at the tinkerer, she growled, "What you want?"

Harrison turned and gathered his papers and quill and sat down. With deliberate strokes, the tinkerer smoothed the papers before asking, "Let's try this again, shall we. How are you doing?"

She rolled her eyes and barked, "Cage. How you?"

"Sylvia," Harrison said, resting a foot on the stool. "If you recall, you appeared out of nowhere in the middle of a thunderstorm. Do you recall?"

"Remember," Sylvia whispered as her scowl deepened.

"Couple that with the fact that the moment I ordered the guards to back off, you launched an assault. After witnessing your arrival and ability with a sword, no one knows what to make of you." Harrison rested his chin on a palm and asked, "Do you understand everything I've told you?"

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