Chaart Acrat 1 - The Flying Bride

Chapter 8

Siarme tried to sneak into his room quietly, even though he saw his mother sitting in the kitchen, wearing a housecoat and sipping tea. He was just about to open the door of his room, when mother yelled: "Siarme!"

He didn't have to guess what it meant.

He walked into the kitchen slowly, knowing he was annoying her, thus walking even slowlier.

"Where were you?" the first question split the air like a knife.

"To the shia-ags."

"At night?"

"I needed some time to think."

"It's my duty to do the thinking in this family. Tell me the truth. You met someone."

Siarme snorted. "What if I did?"

Mother's face went from aggressive to gentle. Her smile was wry. "My dear, you can tell me everything. Who is it? Have you been dating for a long time?"

"It's not like that."

"Oh, come on, tell me! I could arrange you to marry anyone you want after this cursed case is over..."

Siarme shook his head and sat down on the opposite side of the table.

"Has the Fiaan already accepted the plan?" she inquired.

"No."

"Have you even tried?"

"I have. But I don't think she even... I feel like... I..." he went silent when he saw his mother gazing at him.

"Yeah?"

He shook his head again.

"Listen, my son. It seems to me that you've started to take some extra privileges. It's not your job to decide how we act with hard cases. You're supposed to tell me what you've found out, so I can choose what we do!"

Siarme turned his face to the window. It was pitch black outside. "She won't agree to pretend she's diseased. You'll have to force her to leave the village."

Mother sighed. "That's what we'll do, then."

The sat quietly for a moment. Siarme was surprised he had made it without having to hear more yelling.

"You should go to bed. The spectacle will begin tomorrow morning. You'll have to be at your best."

Siarme felt the anger rise inside him. The spectacle will begin, he decided as he left his mother alone in the kitchen. But you won't be the director.