"I saw that!" Isabella gasped, slapping Ophelia's arm lightly. "I told him it was bark, not beast meat!"
The two leaned in even closer now, their foreheads nearly touching as they huddled over the bubbling soap mix like conspirators.
"We should do something," Ophelia whispered, eyes sparkling with pure mischief. "Matchmake."
"Tempting," Isabella murmured, voice low and dangerous. "But if we meddle too much, he might throw a gourd at us."
"He nearly did earlier!"
"That one was an accident."
"No, it wasn't!"
They both broke into muffled giggles, crouched behind the mixing bowl like children caught plotting.
"But..." Ophelia sobered slightly, her finger tapping her chin. "We still don't know where Shelia is." Her bottom lip puffed into a soft pout.
Isabella's grin slowly faded, her expression shifting. "Don't worry," she said firmly, eyes drifting toward the flickering shadows cast by the hearth. "We'll find her... I promise."
