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“Is he alive?”

I hesitated. “Yes.”

I didn’t have more to give him than that, and mercifully, Raphael didn’t press.

I dozed for a little after that, and when I woke, light trickled through the curtains. I ran my fingers over the necklace. The chain was tied together; it had broken at some point. I was lucky Raphael had thought to grab it at all. It was the one possession I had from either of my parents, from the life I had before I was sentenced to Greymere.

The pendant was an oval, overlarge in my tiny palm without being heavy. Four planes of brightly painted metal decorated the shape. The broken chain bothered me, but maybe I could fix it.

I eyed the cabin, considering. A space like this would need a lot of little repairs. Magic could be used forthat kind of thing, but tracking down the right spell and trading for it each time would be annoying, so I wagered the previous owner would’ve kept manual tools. It took a few different guesses, but eventually I found an old toolkit. More than that, I found supplies that called to me: metal wiring, gloves, a magnifying piece, and more.

I grinned and took my haul back to the bedroom. As loath as I was to admit it, my back still ached when I walked despite the healing salve. I’d stopped Raphael from applying it after the first night I’d awoken, but my reach was limited, and the fever had lowered my strength further. I propped the pillow against the headboard and set to work repairing the chain. It was a delicate process since several links had been damaged. I could’ve shortened it and made my life easier, but I couldn’t bear to throw away any of the pieces. Finally, when I finished with the necklace, I began to fiddle with the other pieces I’d found.

The day passed quickly with my tinkering. The only sign of time passing was the slight changing in the light of the room. Raphael slid into the room at one point, as he so often did, returning from wherever he went during the day. I debated stopping, his presence making me self-conscious. But I was bored, and my fingers were eager to have something to do.

Besides, I’d bathed around the damned vampire. This shouldn’t leave me feeling any more exposed.

Raphael didn’t say a word, except to briefly leave and return with some leftovers at one point. Only when dawnbegan to bleed through the window did I set my tools aside on the table behind my bed, a strange satisfaction in me.

It was possibly the first time I’d done something for myself, rather than just to survive since… I couldn’t recall when.

The next night, when I awoke, my pile of supplies was significantly increased.

“Did you steal these?” I asked Raphael, my excitement turning what should’ve been an accusation into curiosity.

“Does it matter? I’ve done worse.”

So I spent the next few days experimenting with the different supplies while Raphael watched me work. I made rat traps, like at the prison, except this time I had food to bait them with. They weren’t strictly necessary, but there was a satisfaction in finally perfecting the design. Next, I worked the wire into lock picks I tested around the cabin. The copper cuffs, I modified on the rare occasion Raphael was out of the room, though he must’ve known I had them, but in my eagerness, I broke the locking mechanism. Sloppy.

I wasn’t sure why he let me keep them, but they made me feel safer, even if they wouldn’t be any good unless I could reform the metal into another shape. When I started on a new belt, he left his post at my bedside and returned a moment later with a small pouch.

“Here. I meant to give this to you earlier.”

Curious, I opened the bag and gasped, stunned at what I was holding. It was the same belt I’d admired for a momenttoo long in the city market. Finely crafted, it would rival anything used at court. It was even more beautiful than I recalled, and up close, I could see just how carefully it had been stitched. Unconsciously, my fingers traced each row of beads as I lifted the belt to the light.

Suddenly self-conscious, I looked at Raphael. He had something resembling a smile on his lips, or at least a ghost of one. Like he was happy his gift pleased me. He’d seen me admiring it, and even knowing we’d part, he purchased it. Or thralled the human into giving it to him.

Why did he even bother?

All at once I felt awkward and unsure what to say. It was a strangely thoughtful gift—one that said he hadn’t expected me to really join the Monastery.

It was the only gift I’d received since I was a child. Sufficient words spoiled on my tongue, and the most I managed was a mumbled thanks while clutching the belt tight between my fingers.

“I’m pleased you like it.”

I nodded once more and returned to my projects. I had better luck understanding the mechanics of a lock than what would compel a vampire to give me a gift.

Over the next days, my back healed. After a few weeks, I could move without sharp pain. My energy returned.

But neither of us discussed what would happen after.

Instead, once I was feeling brave, I asked, “Who’s Anagenni?”

We were sitting in the bedroom again. At first, Raphael had watched me in constant silence. I was the one who broke it, and now we spoke about different things while I worked. Well, Raphael did much of the talking, at my request. He told me of travels, of different parts of the kingdom even I hadn’t heard of. He said nothing of the Vampire Kingdom, but sometimes he’d allude to things which would set my curiosity ablaze.

“Even the Monastery didn’t know,” I continued when he said nothing.

Raphael snorted. “I suppose those fanatics wouldn’t. Anagenni is the goddess of death. The vampires revere her.”