Atlas rose from his seat.
"Remove her."
Guards moved.
"And let me be clear." Atlas's voice carried over the sound of the woman's protests as she was escorted toward the exit. "Anyone else with a problem can leave. Voluntarily, or otherwise. No one else will disrespect my daughter today. That is a courtesy I am extending once. I will spend it on the next person who opens their mouth."
Nobody opened their mouth.
The courtyard was silent. The sea filled the gap. River stood at the altar with her new husband's hand in hers and her eyes burning and her chin lifted, because River Aelindor had survived worse than this.
The celebration was held in the great hall. Music, food, wine, laughter that was slightly too loud and slightly too deliberate, the particular energy of a gathering trying to will normalcy into existence after a ceremony that would be discussed in whispers for the next century.
