Remus nods grimly. “That was part of it, yes,” he confirms. “No second-born would be allowed to live past their birth.”
“And the other terms?”
“One brother would get the north, and another would claim the south,” Kellan states. “They split the country down the middle.”
“I thought that had to do with the partition of Ireland in the early nineteen hundreds.”
“The partition was its own event.” Kellan leans back in his chair and takes a sip of wine. His green eyes bore into me, assessing me. “But it did solidify a few things.”
“When did it change?” My gaze shifts away from the haunting green stare of the man next to me and back to Remus. “When did the second-born babies stop being murdered?”
“We believe it was sometime in the early eighteen hundreds.” Remus’s fingers tap the table. “But no one can be sure.”
“Why? What changed?”
“People were dying.” My eyes shift back to Kellan. “Politics and religion were heating up the country. Who better to train and send into battle than those who were never wanted?”
“They were used as cannon fodder,” I sneer.
“Yes.” Kellan smirks. “Sacrifices for the greater good.”
“Don’t sound so happy about it,” I bite at him. “It’s disgusting.”
“But a necessity.”
I turn to Sheila. “Is that what you think? Is that why you’ve done all this? Because I think you want it all to end.” I shift in my seat to face Marianne. “You certainly didn’t follow McDonough procedure, did you? Both Seamus and Kiernan are alive and well.”
Marianne snarls. “Leave my sons out of this.”
“Like you left my mother out of it?” I hiss. “Like you, she was innocent.”
“No firstborn is innocent in this.” She scoffs.
“Why?” I question her. “Because she got everything you never did? How was that her fault?”
Crickets.
“It wasn’t,” I argue further. “What are you trying to do? Seamus is dead. The woman who took you is dead. There is no one left to uphold those sick, twisted rules. You got what you wanted.”
“But there is always more to claim.” Sheila smiles behind her glass of wine. “Always more to be had that was never given to us.”
And there it is.
The real reason behind what they are doing.
This isn’t about righting the wrongs against them or getting justice.
No. This is about power and money. Their collective pasts just give them a reason to justify it all. The people they hurt. The blood on their hands. None of that matters to them.
“You really had me feeling just a twinge of sympathy for you.” I bark a laugh and let out a long, languid sigh. “Jesus. You are all pieces of shit.”
“Watch your tone, young lady,” Remus growls. “Show some respect.”
Another laugh. “For you?” I scoff and shake my head. “You know, the funny thing about history is it always forgets to mention the catalyst behind each takeover. Each decision. The one who whispers in the ear of the monarchy. The snake in the tree tempting Eve. Anne Boleyn. Cleopatra. Helen of Troy. Jezebel. The list goes on and on.”
I turn to Sheila. “So which one are you?” My gaze shifts to Marianne. “If you believe for one second that she did any of this for you—then you are a fool. Sheila doesn’t care about you. She is using you as a tool to do her bidding.”
Sheila remains calm in her seat. The Botox is really doing something for her. Marianne is redder than a ripe tomato. Her grip on the fork in her hand is tight. Enough that I can see her knuckles whiten as her anger takes over. I have a feeling I am confirming something she has already been struggling with.