They were so close that they could reach out and pinch her feet, her arms, her face, and sometimes they did, no matter how watchful Vasyl was. Tonight’s crowd seemed polite at least, gasping and silent in the right places as Vasyl described her foreign origins, how he had bought her, the youngest priestess of a forbidden religion, out of a cage in the distant market of Saigon. I’d like to go to Saigon, Maryse thought idly. Sounds warm.
