No one was paying attention to Sir Hyphen-Dash as he lay on his pyre on the beach, quiet as he had never been in life. Gulls stood all around, waiting patiently for him to become edible. They found that things generally did, if they waited long enough.
The sight burst Grace from the numb calm that had possessed her since that moment when she had realized that Rothgar was right, whatever she meant.
She raced forward, hands waving, sending the gulls into raucous flight. They circled, but landed nearby, still waiting. She collapsed to the sand, suddenly exhausted.
“It’s going to be all right,” said a voice beside her, and she looked up to see her sister Felicity, with their cousin Hope beside her. “It’s how he would have wanted things,” Felicity said, helping her up. “Come help us pack things, please. Then we can go home.”