A War Of Traitors( ARTK, Book 2)

Chapter 191+192

Ferdrar 4th, 3330 A.G

At some point, Nara had ordered a man or two of theirs to make the funeral pyre. At another, one of them came to inform Renard- and somehow he'd found his way onto that beach carrying the body.

For the longest time he sat and started at it just a few arm's lengths from the fire, and at another point a woman ran onto that beach with a letter balled up in her fist. Like many others she'd seen the smoke- but it were the letter she found on her table that made her realize.

My dearest Betty,

You have been the kindest woman I've ever known and even now I know I did not deserve a friend like you. When my father died you were there for me and I cannot thank you enough. Nothing will ever be enough. I am sorry I could not make myself love you the way you wanted, but I did love you in a way. For that I leave you this: Anything and everything I inherited from my father( which you will find in your closet) along with the cottage given to me by the queen yesterday. You will find the coin in your house somewhere- I do not tell you exactly where for fear of someone else finding this letter. Do not try to find and stop me. I will be dead or close to it by the time you see this.

  It were so lonely on that small stretch of sand- seemingly the only one without a camp on it, but Renard thought he'd appreciated the privacy. Now he knew how wrong that were.

  He heard Betty running, turned around just in time to see her drop that letter and freeze. Her eyes lingered over Jeans and her mouth slowly opened before she placed a hand over it. Renard gulped. It were no easier to look at those eyes now, so many hours later. Before he knew it Betty were beside him, crying and cradling her head like only a lover would.

A lover who's love was never returned.

For a long time she would not allow him to place the body on it's pyre. They lingered so long he had to take wood from it to keep the firepit going and it started getting dark- which was more of a relief than anything. This way, at least they weren't disrespecting the goddess of death. Regardless of what he believed it did seem like a good idea not to.

"Betty-" he said quietly. "Betty."

"No."

"She is.... She is gone." He continued, trying to process it himself. "Refusing to burn her will change nothing. I'm sure-"

"You will do nothing, my king." She spat, more hatred in her heart for him than anyone else. Instead of allowing him to help, she shoved his hands away and remained determined to do it herself. Jean weren't heavy- Betty just had no upper arm strength, so it took nearly a hundred moments and many frustrated screams.

When she were finally laid on that pyre, both realized they had no energy to say the funeral words. The day had taken it out of them both, to the point all Renard could do was light a torch in the firepit and place it on the pyre.

"May she... find peace in the Lodah." Renard managed to get out. Beside him for once, Betty nodded. They had no idea how long it took, but they stayed there until her body were ashes, her bones were charred and there would be no hope of removing the smell from their clothes or hair for weeks.

When the fire calmed down enough that she could do so without permanently scarring her hand, Betty began throwing charred bones into the sea one by one. Small amounts of ash went with them, as did every time Jean had smiled and laughed.

Perhaps things would have been different if he'd never left the island, if he'd treated her well to begin with. She may have told him about the child immediately, and he may or may not have offered to marry and make her a lady. She would have accepted, and they may have held the island for many years and had many children together. In time, he imagined he could have made himself love her too- no matter how unfair that was.