“Consequences! They watched their friend die yesterday!” Ilian interrupted.

A slight flare of agitation lit in Finney's eyes to let Ilian know he was treading where he shouldn’t, “I’m well aware of what happened yesterday. That doesn’t change the fact that they acted out against someone higher in the chain of command than them. If Palaemon or Sion had chosen to act out against them the punishment would be the same. You respect rank here, regardless of whether you agree with their actions or not.”

I could smell the outrage flaring in Ilian. He held his tongue but by the amount of fidgeting he was doing, I could tell that he was rather displeased with what was happening. Not that I blamed him of course. They watched someone die yesterday, isn’t that punishment enough?

Finney cocked his head slightly and waited for pushback from Ilian. When he was sure Ilian would remain silent, he straightened up and led us out of the building. Even though the sun had barely started to rise the other mages were already hard at work. In the center of camp now sat a pile of assorted crates and boxes. Each was marked with an aphiel emblem that was encircled with a swirling wave design. Three mages held journals and were taking meticulous notes on what was included in each crate. To every one of those mages, there were two others who counted what was physically in the crate and relayed their counts to the one with the journal. Once they were done counting, another group would take the crates and separate its contents into three different piles. Food, essentials and first aid. From there the supplies were gathered and taken off into camp by another set of mages.

“What is all this?” I asked Finney and paused for a brief moment to watch the fluidity of their work.

“Every two months we get a supply drop distributed to every camp on the isle. In reality it gets dropped off to the harbor at the beginning of the month and Caer Tower gets it a few days later, but they have to run their own counts before it can be distributed to the Aphiels,” Finney explained.

Two months? Don’t get me wrong there was a decent amount of supplies being given to our camp, but not two months worth. Not for the amount of people I’ve seen walking around our camp. Palaemon’s was on the smaller side as well and it didn’t seem like it was enough to go around. I felt sorry for the larger camps like June’s. How she managed to feed her people was beyond me, but it started to make sense the amount of rotten food I was given. When you don’t have enough to begin with, you surely aren’t going to let any of it go to waste, regardless of its expiration date.

“How is this enough to last two months?” I began to question Finney, “We had supply drops this large to last us two weeks at the castle, I can’t imagine two months.”

Finney let out a sinister laugh, “Yeah, well it’s not enough. But we don’t have the privileges of being characterized as people. So the castle could give a fuck about us.”

I winced at Finney’s sharp remarks. Clearly I had struck a nerve with him, something I was sure to remember to avoid being a topic of conversation in the future. Hanging my head low I followed quietly behind them as we continued our trek through camp. Ilian remained upset and while his eyes still darted from place to place, I could tell by the look on his face and the way that he picked at his cuticles that he was uneasy. 

I found myself wanting to say something or give a gesture to try to comfort Ilian. To bring the excitement back in his eyes. But instead I found the words choked in my throat. While I didn’t agree with Landon and Pan being punished, I can’t say that I was all too upset by the whole chain of events. Ty’s death bothered me in that no one wants to see death. No one wants to see the light fade from someone’s eyes, to feel their skin grow cold. But I know I wouldn’t miss Ty. His absence wouldn’t bother me, and knowing that he was dead didn’t bother me either. I’d grown rather cold to the general idea of death. Far too often my father would order a servant's death for whatever trivial slight they had given him. When I was much younger, I just thought they had found better jobs and had moved on from the castle. But as I got older I began to understand what was actually happening. I remember my favorite caretaker, a boy barely eighteen, had accidentally nicked my skin while shaving the sides of my head and my father’s response was to cut off his hands. Father pulled me to the dungeons where they kept him and made me watch as they executed his punishment. I begged and pleaded for father to stop, that it was an accident and that if I hadn’t moved slightly, he wouldn’t have cut me. But my father didn’t care. He had a point to make. Whether that point was to the staff to make sure they stayed in line, or to me to prove a point that anyone below us didn’t matter, truly I didn’t know. I kept my eyes locked with him as he bled out on the floor of his cell, I saw the deep tremors that wracked his body as he struggled to cope with the pain. The pool of blood swirled around him and stained his skin a deep burgundy, soon it was the only color left on his cheeks as the life faded from him. Since then, death has never been the same for me. I suppose the numbness that washes over me when I am presented with it is my subconscious’s way of protecting me from the pain.

“Finney, is it okay if I ask you a question?” I asked. My voice comes out in breaks.

Finney glanced over his shoulder at me, “Sure why not.”

“Um, in my studies yesterday I discovered that it’s not safe for me to keep feeding from myself. Is there someone that I can feed from, or get blood from.”

Finney scoffed, “What your little friend won’t feed you?”

Color flooded my cheeks and I felt myself start to get upset at Finney’s tone. I don’t like the way he referred to Ilian, let alone the implication that it was Ilian’s duty to serve me. I’d like to say that we are friends, but that doesn’t mean that Ilian owes me anything. If anything I owed him for all the times he had protected me.

Finney noticed the anger in my cheeks and paused in his stride,    “Take it easy,” he said calmly to me, “If you don’t want to feed from him that's your prerogative, but can I at least ask why so I can plead your case when I bring it up to Palaemon.”

I started to explain to Finney why I didn’t want to feed from Ilian, but stopped when I noticed Ilian walking right past us. His eyes locked on whatever shadow he was watching in the trees, he didn’t even notice we had stopped walking. I reached out and grabbed his hand, bringing him to a halt and dragging his attention away from the shadow. He looked startled and stared at me quizzically.

“Why are we stopping?” He muttered.

“Finney and I are having a conversation,” I responded.

A flash of distaste lit Ilian’s eyes at the mention of Finney. He refused to look in Finney’s direction and kept his eyes on me instead, “I’ll just be over here then,” he said quietly before walking over to sit on a rotting log just out of earshot.

Finney scoffed, “Dare I ask what the fuck his problem is?”

“He doesn’t agree with what’s happened, or how people are treating the situation. I don’t blame him,” I responded blankly.

“Fair, but here you are having a normal conversation instead of acting like a child about it,” Finney growled, running his hand through his curls.

“I’m used to dealing with grown men who have anger management problems. Unfortunately, unlike him, I had to walk on eggshells growing up. It makes you a little numb to things, and what you aren’t numb to, you shove down inside and tell yourself you are just going to deal with it later,” I said emotionlessly. I was being honest with Finney, but honesty sometimes was a dangerous sea to tread upon. 

Respect shone in Finney’s eyes and he let out a deep sigh, “I’d like to say you are wrong and we aren’t a bunch of grown men with anger issues, but I know better than to try. Being upset, being pissed off, it’s kind of the normal around here. I wish it wasn’t but what else could it be when no one in their right mind wants to be on this fucking island.”

“I don’t blame any of you, for what it’s worth. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to give Ilian hell for still trying to hold on to his sense of justice, his kindness or his happiness.”

Finney nodded, “Maybe we could stand to learn something from him,” he started, “Is that why you don’t want to feed from him?”

“No,” I said blushing, “I don’t want to feed from him because of how much I want to feed from him.”

“You are scared you are going to hurt him?” Finney asked.

“Yes.”

“Palaemon won’t go for that, I know exactly what he will say, ‘Why is the Isturn’s life held higher than one of my men?’ He cares for his recruits but he cares for his tenured men more,” Finney explained, “I get why you don’t want to though. If I were in your shoes I wouldn’t want to feed from Pay. Why don’t I sit with you the first few times, I’ll make sure you don’t hurt him.”

The idea churned my stomach, “I really don’t feel comfortable with it though. Who is to say you are going to be able to get me to stop?”

Finney cocked his eyebrow in response, “You seriously think you can take me? Me?” He scoffed, “I’m a little offended I won't lie.”

“It’s not that, I just… What if I severely injure him when you try to pull me away? What if it causes him to bleed out?” I stuttered through the possible ways that I could hurt or kill Ilian, each one inciting a panic in me.

“I think it’s going to be just fine, kid,” Finney responded, and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“How do you know that though?”

“Because you care this much,” he said matter-of-factly.