The horror bursts through her ice-cold.

She will probably live through Father's punishment - yes, it would be too suspicious if she happened to pass away so soon - but she is not sure that, this far provoked, he could not break her too. 

Her thoughts reel. 

Right. Time to act. Staying out of Father's mind is a lost cause. Pivot to a new plan-

"Your Majesty," she says coolly. It's a huge risk but not that big, the Queen doesn't usually like to break her toys. She meets the witch-queen's eyes and doesn't blink. "I am wounded. You are quite mistaken. My father is a good man, and has nothing but praise for the Lord Ambrose and his illustrious Imperial line."

Insolent whelp. 

...No, a new player. Those are not in fact the eyes of a sweet young thing. Perhaps she can find an angle.

"Your love of your family does you credit, child. I only hope you will ever prove able to show your future husband here such loyalty." She glances briefly at Ambrose. The boy now reflects on Voltur and by extension her. What is this woman up to... "I would be most displeased by any difficulty in the household of the Duke of Volturgard."

Time for a test.  Is this really family loyalty?

 "And I am sure your father would be very anxious to protect his good standing with the Crown."

She schools her face. The Queen didn't say that loudly enough for it to get back to Father, she thinks, she should still do something for appearance's sake - the Queen is trying to undermine Lord Ambrose's trust in her and force her to defend House Kreel, but she doesn't truly care and the boy is too besotted to notice, probably - the Queen gambled there and it was a bad gamble, she can use this against father-

"I am sure he will not need to, Your Majesty."

"I am glad to hear of your support for this match, Your Majesty." 

He glances between Ambrose and Eloise - is the boy going to talk again - or is now the time to introduce Eloise and her ideas-

Future husband? 

Wait– this has all moved too swiftly. He has only just properly introduced himself to the girl– Miss Kreel is certainly interested in him, that much was made clear, a miracle of all things– but to be married to him is an entirely different story!

“Your Majesty, you flatter us with your endorsement – but respectfully, I do believe that Miss Kreel may decide for herself who he she is to wed. I have nothing but the utmost respect for her, and do not wish for any trouble with her family. If she will still have me, our courtship will proceed on her terms.”

The young lord bows low, before the terrifying archmage can have a chance to respond.

“Your Majesty,” he repeats. “If you would so graciously excuse me. I gather that His Grace wishes to speak with you on a sensitive matter, and there is a glass of lemonade I must fetch.”

Her jaw drops. She schools her expression quickly with an awkward cough.

If she's going to be married to that boy he will have to learn when to shut up. 

Her nostrils flare.

"You are excused," she says, in tones more appropriate to "off with his head", and ice radiates from her.

Vengeance. She can be patient. The Deneith boy will learn well to hold his tongue. 

She turns gravely towards the Duke Voltur. "Well?" she demands imperiously. 

He stares at her left ear. "Your Majesty. This is Eloise Bridgerton, my betrothed - she wishes to speak with you on the matter of her dissertation."

"Does she indeed."

She turns the full force of her gaze on Eloise, where she's still standing half behind Voltur. 

She says nothing. That unnerves people. 

She manages not to cower. Only just.

Voltur feels her small hand grip his. 

Does– does the Queen want her to speak? She isn’t saying anything– oh gods, curse Ambrose for leaving Her Majesty in such a bad mood.

Eloise swallows and steps forward a tiny amount. “Your Majesty, I only wished to know if you have any thoughts on my,” she falters, “on my treatise.”

"Your treatise," she echoes. "I did read it. I am curious, however, why you feel your opinion in this matter ought to carry any weight. Why you feel that you are in a position to so advise me."

"Answer. Your Queen commands you."

Because I am currently being forced to marry your favourite–

“Your Majesty, I did not mean to make such presumptions, I only thought that…” she draws herself up straighter. “That I could appeal to you, as an– informant, of sorts, from the inside. I am– honoured that you have read my thoughts, and certainly now that you know of the issue, and there is no higher authority than you, I had hoped that– well, Your Majesty, I had hoped that you might be able to…” her voice becomes small again, “do something to remedy it.”

"I told my betrothed of your," bloody-minded obsession with getting your way "astounding control over your kingdom, Your Majesty."

She doesn't even spare him a glance. "And of course you assume your feelings on the matter ought to be included in royal consideration. In which you have no part. You are not in a position to dissent or assent to my judgement, Miss Bridgerton. But perhaps I shall indulge you, though your words carry little weight. What would you have of your Queen? What laws would you make, what power of the Crown would you exercise, in pursuit of this fairer vision of yours?"

She hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“…I would never claim to have any control over Her Majesty’s decision making, or even dream to aspire to her intelligence, but were I so honoured–“

Here goes nothing, Eloise.

“Women are treated as second-class citizens. His Grace informs me that nowhere else in your great kingdom– queendom, is this the case, and I believe it is due to the insular nature that characterises the ton. I have read far and wide, Your Majesty, from what little I could access in my late father’s library, and I have chased down every cleric I could find, and if I may be so bold, I do not believe this to be the natural order by any means. It makes very little logical sense. You yourself are a woman, a powerful woman, the greatest wizard in the land– and yet any question of me or any other ladies of the ton becoming even remotely like you, a wizard of even the lowest circle, is laughed at. The men in our lives control everything, intelligent or kind or well-meaning or not, and all that is left for us to do is play the pianoforte or sew or dance, and let our minds rot into the fantasy of finding one’s true love, while people out there, good and brave people, man and woman alike, fight and die in war.” Her hand squeezes Voltur’s even more tightly. “I even hear– I hear from the Church of Aphrodite that it is even acceptable by the Goddess to marry one who is–“

She fails to finish her thought.

Oh this is fun. 

"Who is what, pray?" 

She watches the girl's eyes very carefully.

"Perhaps indeed I neglect the proper social conduct that ought to be expected outside the ton. Perhaps greater discipline is needed there."

So this is to be the Duke Voltur's wife, is it? Hmm. Difficult. The girl makes trouble, and he will support her, the man is nothing if not straightforward. 

"Would you be a wizard, girl? Or is that only for these clever oppressed women you fondly imagine to exist?"

Her face falls. “I– I would,” she answers bravely.

"Would you."

She can't push this too far, but... 

Hmm. 

"Listen well, girl. The Stones tell us of ancient bargains with the Elements: Water to turn mills, Wind to drive ships, Fire to light up the night. What such place could Lightning have? Think hard upon it. Let it fill your very being."

"And when it happens, raise your right hand."

There is a pop and a flash of blue. 

He darts forwards to grab Eloise and throw himself between her and the Queen - if Her Majesty has gone mad he needs to act now if she gets the chance to get another spell off they're all doomed-

“Ouch! No– Voltur, stand down, it is alright, it was only a sting.” Eloise catches his arm with her left hand. Her right is elevated, sparking from the fingertips.

She looks at the Queen with large eyes. “What happened?”

"I proved that you are a wizard. Or could be."