"Oh, exceptionally," Laertes agrees readily. He feels giddy and fond, plucking a flower to tuck behind Sagramore's ear. The world feels hazy, soft and bright around the edges, but in the bee-loud warmth of the meadow, he scarcely minds. "Easily one of the most beautiful men I've ever seen."

Already, the specter of his sister is fading. She was only driftwood; the tide carries her away.