“Oh. Should I– leave?” Ambrose stands uncertainly.

“Yes. No. Wait.” Eloise frowns in indecision. “Stay in the room, just… do not listen.”

“…Right. I shall busy myself. With the very interesting-looking globe over there.” Ambrose crosses the admittedly very large room.

"...What was all that about?"

“Privacy,” the wizard pipes up helpfully, before remembering that he is supposed to be distracted.

He cracks a faint smile, his back turned.

She shoots a scowl in Ambrose’s direction. “Yes. That.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Lord Ambrose, what we discuss in here is a secret of the Archduchy which you are charged to protect with your life. Eloise, Lord Ophel here already knows too much. And if Talen is our enemy we are all in any case doomed. You may as well speak freely."

She gives him a pointed glare, and says nothing. 

This is not a secret of the Archduchy, you buffoon.

He genuinely has absolutely no idea what is going on here, it's going to be more utter madness that everyone except him was brought up with, and which is apparently is the way things are supposed to be done, which nobody will explain to him. 

He shrugs at her helplessly. 

Ugh.

She hits him on the arm – nowhere near hard enough to hurt him, she is tiny and he feels like a rock even with all the padding on his doublet. 

“Our engagement. Come up with a plan, General.”

Men are such idiots.

"I see."

He takes a deep breath. 

"Eloise and I have no wish to be engaged, in case you did not already know. There was a... misunderstanding. The question is how to extract ourselves in a way that does not shame the Bridgerton family. It amused the Queen to entertain the notion of you being a wizard - we may be able to capitalise on that. I do know some wizards from the war days who might take you on as an apprentice as a favour?"

Is– is he supposed to be listening?

He takes the gamble and decides to respond. “I see,” he says thoughtfully, still holding up the small plant he had been counting the leaves of.

The wizard boy is on thin ice.

“…Me? A wizard’s apprentice? Is that– even doable?”

“I can ask around at Silvermoon to see if there are any vacancies,” he suggests helpfully.

?!

“What if they still make me get married?”

Neither of them notice that the elf has stopped playing, and is now just sitting very, very still.

He does notice. 

...But it is really none of his business what the elf decides to do. 

He scratches his chin. "We may be getting ahead of ourselves. But- it is not uncommon for wizards to demand that their apprentices not marry for the duration of the apprenticeship. I imagine it is not - normally respectable - but perhaps with the Queen's endorsement?"

She can’t allow her hopes to get ahead of her.

“You may be onto something, Your Grace.” Ambrose puts the plant down, returning to their side of the room. “I suppose the ideal resolution to this would be if Miss Bridgerton herself were to attend the Academy. That way, the dragon would have its ‘mother’ while also being within the bounds of magical safety.”

…

“Anthony would never allow that.”

He frowns. "It is not clear to me that Lord Bridgerton's will would triumph over that of the Academy, if they particularly wanted your attendance - and perhaps Edmund's presence there would encourage them to insist on it. In truth I do not know how the Academy is perceived in the ton, whether or not that alone would stain your family's name." 

Eloise seems to shrink into her dress, the lower half her face hidden by the baby dragon’s head. “I– do not know.”