Tristan watched them go. His chest was a war.
Every instinct in his body screamed at him to follow her, to find her, to pull her into his arms and press his mouth against her hair and tell her that every elder in this room could burn and he would still choose her.
He stayed.
Because following her meant abandoning the fight, and abandoning the fight meant the elders would decide in his absence, and their decision would be the one he was standing here to prevent. His father would hold her. His father would say the right things. Tristan needed to end this.
"I will say this once more," Tristan said, and his voice had changed. The pleading was gone. The arguments were gone. What remained was the voice of a prince who had stopped asking and started informing. "I am taking one wife. She is River. We have been bonded in every way that matters. I will never take a second."
"Your Highness—"
