The Last Page: Episode 04

Finnian focuses on the chessboard, contemplating his options. He reaches out and moves his knight, capturing one of Lochlann’s pawns. “I like Ciara,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “She is kind, funny, intelligent. She’s perfect. It is like she came to you from a fairy tale.”

Lochlann’s eyebrows shoot up as he studies the board. “Truly? You were so against my betrothal to Ein. I thought you would protest this match as well out of spite, maybe even give me the same line everyone else has about her being a commoner. Why do you approve?” He moves his bishop, putting Finnian’s queen in jeopardy. 

Finnian sighs, his fingers hovering over his remaining chess pieces as he decides on a countermove. He had attended the ball, Lochlann had recited his speech just as he had in the game, but Lady Ein had not stormed up to the dais, she had not hurled a bottle of wine at Ciara, she had not lunged forward to slap Lochlann. She had, instead, wished the couple well and then ran out. He had been counting on events going down just as they had in the game. And yet.

His brother clears his throat and Finnian places his forefinger on the top of a pawn. "I'll admit, I do not care for Lady Eirnín,” he says, forcing his voice to remain steady. “I worried she would not be the right match for you or our kingdom. Ciara, however…” He moves the pawn forward, shielding his queen. “Ciara possesses a rare magic. Magic that our kingdom could use.”

“So, it is the magic you are interested in—predictable. You want to study Lady Ciara,” Lochlann laughs while a knight captures another pawn.

Finnian shrugs. "I want to study her magic, not her."

“It all makes sense now. Lady Ein does not have magic, so you do not find her interesting. But that does not explain why you hate her.”

Finnian leans back in his chair, staring up at the vaulted ceiling, fingers laced together behind his head. “I do not hate Lady Ein,” he says. “I simply felt that the two of you were mismatched. You are loving, you wear your heart on your sleeve, you are full of life and energy. She is indifferent and cold, and unlikely to take any interest in your passions. I hear she just sulks at most balls or parties nowadays.” 

“You have never even met her in person, Finn. How could you possibly know so much about her without even speaking to her?”

Finnian shrugs. He knows so much about her without speaking to her because he remembers her very well from his past life. But his brother cannot know that. “Perhaps she has more to her than you or I know. Regardless, it is clear from the way you look at Ciara that your are much happier with her.”

“Maybe I had the wrong idea of what was going on,” Lochlann says, looking up from the chessboard and tapping his chin. “Maybe you do not dislike her. Maybe you’ve been wanting Ein for yourself. Cold? Indifferent? Sulking at parties? That is, when you bother to show up. Sound like anyone else you know?” 

“Believe me, that is not the case,” he says, throat tightening despite his efforts to sound nonchalant. "And I did make the effort to attend tonight's ball.."

Lochlann rolls his eyes. "And you sulked in the corner the entire time. The more I think about it, maybe you should ask father to marry her. You could sulk at balls together.”

His brother is as relentless as his hunting hounds. Finnian places his bishop down decisively, capturing Lochlann’s queen in the process. “I can assure you, I have no desire for Lady Ein. My interests lie elsewhere. Mainly, studying.” He leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers together as he regards his brother. “And I know you do not hate Lady Ein, so why would you wish upon her a husband like me? Can you imagine how miserable her life would be with me?” 

Lochlann shrugs, taking a sip of wine. “You certainly are insistent enough that I cannot help but imagine it now.”

Finnian waves a hand. “I am content being a pawn for the Mac Iomaire dynasty, with no conflicting loyalties to rival royal families.”

"I was only joking with you, no need to be so defensive," Lochlann says.

Finnian scowls as he calculates his next move. Lochlann’s unexpected comment caught him off guard. "I do not make jokes about your love life."

“You've been a different person ever since you were injured at grandmother's funeral.” Anger but also something like grief or remorse is woven into Lochlann's words.

“I did not change, I grew up. Maybe I grew up a little too fast, but I am still the same Finnian.” But the truth is, he has changed. He has become more focused, and more driven. Every move he makes is calculated with precision. He can’t afford to slip up. He has a plan, and he will see it through. Ciara will marry Lochlann, Ein will be removed from the story, and Finnian can finally take those vials of traesdel he has hidden in his wardrobe.

The chess game continues, but Finnian’s mind is elsewhere, playing a different kind of game entirely.

Queen Padhra had only been the second ruler in the Mac Iomaire dynasty, but she was the ruler who had won over most of the people. Her father, Barhan Mac Iomaire, might have started the dynasty when he overthrew Brec Ó Siadhail, but Padhra gave it the strength to endure. And she had given Finnian the strength to keep living despite all the conflicting emotions inside of him that he could never untangle. She understood him, even when he did not understand himself. He still wonders if she somehow knew. She had started traesdel very young, so young that many in the kingdom never even guessed. But she told him about it. Emphasized to him how safe it was. Told him that it was never uncomfortable. Told him again and again that she was much happier with her body once she had completed her course of traesdel and finished her transition. Why had she told him that if not because she somehow knew Finnian would one day realize he would be much happier transitioning, too.

He had been devastated when she passed away. At her funeral, a spooked horse in the crowded streets had sent him crashing from his mount, his head striking the cobblestones. When he had finally awakened days later, he had no recollection of the events. His memories slowly returned, disjointed fragments that felt like scenes from someone else’s life. But then the dreams had started.

“Grew up? More like grew old,” Lochlann says. “You are so serious now.”

“Nearly dying tends to change a man's perspective,” he says. “I suppose I’ve become a bit more serious since then.” He reaches across the table and claps Lochlann on the shoulder. “But I am still the same Finnian you’ve always known, just with a bit more wisdom and maturity.” His rook swoops in, threatening Lochlann's king. "Check.”

Lochlann’s gaze narrows. “See, this is what I mean. It’s like you’re a completely different person. You aren’t even gloating right now. I sometimes wonder if someone murdered the real Finnian and you’re some imposter.”

“Imposter? Ridiculous,” he says. “I’m tired. I think I’ll retire for the night. Thank you for the game.” 

Lochlann sighs and resets the chess board. "Thank you for attending the ball tonight."

F​innian departs from the room, not acknowledging his brother, his mind churning. Finnian strides through the corridors of the castle, ignoring every maid and servant he passes.

He does not wait for a guard to open the doors to his chambers for him. He throws them open and let's them slam again behind him. His rooms are dark but the familiar sc​ent of lavender greets him as he steps inside. With a sigh, he releases his hair from its ponytail, letting the dark strands cascade down his back.

“Maybe you’re right, Lochlann,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with resignation. “Maybe you never knew who I was at all. I certainly didn’t know, either, though.”