There was a long stretch of anticipation, waiting to see how he would react. He must have known the vampire who had attacked her, she thought; his ponderous silence was increasingly convincing on that count. If he did, though, he didn't seem much affected by the news, which at first was a relief. She didn't want to be held accountable, after all, for the death of someone who would have killed her if he'd had the chance — who did try to kill her.

After the initial wave of relief, however, was mistrust. Perhaps the vampire who had attacked her hadn't been one Ishmael had been particularly close to. Perhaps he had been what the older vampire had termed a newborn babe, and an absence of five years was more than enough time for the other man to have emotionally moved on from the brief acquaintance. Or perhaps he was just playing his cards close to his chest? Perhaps he did hold her responsible for the fate of the vampire who had attacked her, and just wasn't letting on everything he felt? For all his initial kindness, Lyra could sense instinctively that Ishmael would be a dangerous enemy to make. How would she know if he was setting her up for ruin?

She wouldn't, of course. She was new here in the caverns, and in the grander sense she was still new to the life of a vampire; she would have to take his friendliness at face value. She didn't know enough to make her own way here, so what choice did she have?

"Thank you," Lyra responded, her tone reasonably warm. She was going to sleep with one eye open for a good long while, though — metaphorically speaking, of course. Vampires didn't sleep.