Noon.
Marketplace.
Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.
*****************
"Oh please, that was the Viscountess, the bitch is a witch I tell you" lady Jerald countered with a roll of her eyes.
Helena snorted, she hadn't intended to but the ladies were so nosy yet got the wrong messages out of everything.
Cesita Reyes has a heart of gold and she is not a witch, Helena thought but that was what they remained. Thoughts, because if she spoke them, explanation and perhaps consequences would follow.
"What are you doing?"
Helena jolted our of her body at Lydia's whispered question. "Picking a dress"
Lydia raised an elegant brow. "You have been standing here for a few minutes, the dress must be striking or are you eavesdropping?" she pointed out with a teasing smile.
"I am the eldest sister you cannot judge me" Helena sassed, her palms on her hip.
Lydia's palm found her hips too. "How do you know you are elder?" she asked.
