He deflates a little. 

Bah. The boy is young and in love. There is a cunning means for dealing with this. It is called a wife. 

She will convince the Kreel girl to have a real wedding. They still have some of the family jewellery, do they not?

She takes Ambrose's hand quickly, but not so quickly as to seem impertinent, and flees with him. 

Outside the room she takes stock, very quickly. 

Something about that made no sense. Clearly, there's something she doesn't understand here. So - more information. 

Carefully, she lets out a shaky sort of sigh. Looks at Ambrose in a vulnerable way. It's easy to let a little real feeling bleed through. 

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “I am sorry. My father is… difficult, but he is completely harmless. I am certain that it is only because they approve of you so much that they are behaving like this.”

She catches his hand and holds it in hers.

Is it that Lord Deneith requires that his children pretend not to fear him? Why? They even have to keep up the pretence in private?

...Something really isn't right here. It... doesn't make sense for Ambrose to have done what he just did. 

"Is that... typical?"

“Him being difficult? Yes.” He mutters as he leads her down the hallway. “But you have nothing to fear, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

He stops when they are far away enough from the drawing room, taking her in. “Galora, we can just tell them, you know. They would understand, and they would want to help.”

...She's backed into a corner, isn't she. 

She looks up at Ambrose. 

He knows. He knows more than enough, if she's made the wrong gamble. 

She's not exactly losing any more, is she. 

If she's made the wrong choice, this can't actually go any worse. 

No no no if Ambrose tries anything against Father he'll die if she gets his family involved they'll be crushed too- 

-why can't they just do as she tells them-

-in terms of the actual truth it's probably the case that-

-for now, here, she actually is safe-

-Apparently her body is going to completely ignore her and inexplicably react to this situation by drawing her arms in too tightly and forgetting how to breathe. 

!

He steps forward, taking her arms. “Hey. Hey, it is alright. We do not have to tell them a thing.”

Oh gods, how does he make her stop panicking–

“Breathe. It is alright.”

She almost flinches when he touches her, but controls herself just in time - that would not be wise. 

It does help, the feeling of his skin on hers, it gives her something to orient her mind around. 

She steels herself and sharply orders her body to behave itself. 

She could just smile and nod and go on with the pretence but - Ambrose might do something stupid, and it would end with her going home where she is not safe any more, not if she is as weak as this.

Deep breath. She doesn't have a strategy and that's terrifying, but her next steps are the same across any number of possibilities, keep Ambrose on side at all costs and steer away from anything immediately disastrous - that's a losing game but it might give her time to think -

"If- even if they would help- Father is too powerful. I- Ambrose, I am scared." She can do a perfect damsel-in-distress face while she thinks.

He embraces her properly, now. Fully.

There is a strange sensation around her as she is brought into the wizard’s space, like static before a lightning storm and the soft brush of feathers, like the gentle pressure of a body of water–

“He cannot hurt you now. You are mine by law. I will protect you.”

...She doesn't have a plan yet, the next thing she says is going to steer Ambrose down one path or another and she needs to choose-

"It will start as soon as I return to Kreel Manor. I cannot go back there." And now a distractor, so he doesn't question it, push him down another path and he'll probably take that idea as read - "What could you do, Ambrose? What could anybody do?"

…

“You do not have to worry. You do not need to return that place. Today, you will stay for tea with the Duke, and…”

Here goes.

“Tonight, we will find a church, somewhere.”

That was easier than she thought it would be, she thinks, keeping a perfectly schooled expression of fear/disbelief/hope. 

"How?" she whispers.

“…Well, I imagine by walking to it, or taking a carriage,” he answers rather stupidly.

To her amazement, she actually giggles. 

She could stop it. 

She doesn't. 

"Can we really do this?" she whispers, eyes shining.

Ambrose sighs in relief, grinning at her.

Gods, she makes his heart sing–

“Of course.” He laces their hands together. “We can do anything.”

He smiles down at her for a long moment, softly.

“Come. There is much to see.”

He presents himself at the Deneith residence with a reckless spring in his step and the scent of whisky on his breath disguised with peppermint. He had Talen dress him properly, ducally. The coronet on his brow gleams. He stands to perfect military attention. If they want to coo over the Duke, let them. 

He wonders if Eloise will actually show up. 

He greets his liege lord, presenting his betrothed and his mother and his father and his brother and gods can they just all sit down now please.

Eloise shows up a few minutes after, her maid at her tail. She is wearing makeup. She does not seem particularly happy about that.

She has never actually been formally invited anywhere without her mother, before. 

“Lord and Lady Deneith. My lords. And Miss Kreel,” she greets, surprised to see Galora. “Um, thank you for having me.”

That’s good enough?

She doesn’t really look at Voltur. “Your Grace.”

He sees the way she looks at Galora. How the hell did he not notice before?

He probably ought to say something - reach out, maybe apologise - but that was Ophel's voice, the voice of reason, the voice of losing. At the thought of the elf his stomach twists almost painfully. 

Ophel is gone. He isn't coming back. His pulse is pounding in his ears already, and the careful aristocratic restraint he'd learned to pretend to have is dissolving gently in dwarvish spirits.

"Miss Eloise, my dearest," he drawls, "a pleasure to see you as ever."

She grits her teeth, but maintains her smile.

…What is wrong with those two?