When Francesca walked through the door carrying a tray she found the man from the hologram sitting cross-legged on the sofa. Four Hayden guards filed in behind her and took up positions around the walls so that they had a clear line of fire.
She set the tray on the table and turned to study the stranger. He hadn’t so much as twitched. He sat, rapt and unmoving, staring off into the darkness. She waited a few moments, and then she cleared her throat to get his attention. He didn’t react at all.
“Excuse me,” she said pointedly. “Your dinner’s here.”
For just a second she thought he still wouldn’t react. Then, suddenly, he expanded his chest in a deep breath that he let out slowly. His eyes focused on her, and he frowned. “I was meditating. Have you no manners here as well as no justice?”
She frowned back at him, annoyed at being so quickly on the defensive. “Manners here are different from manners where you come from.”
He rose, standing in a fluid motion that reminded her of a wild animal preparing to pounce on its prey. “You are Francesca.”
She nodded, curious as to how much her father had told him. “How did you know that?”
He smiled bitterly. “He said he had a descendent named Francesca, and you look like him. Also,” he gestured toward the guards, “four of them came with you. He wouldn’t take such care for a servant.”
“He?” Francesca asked, a little annoyed at the caustic way he said the pronoun. “Why can’t you say his name? I know you know it.”
Scorn and contempt contorted the Sansoussy’s face into a scowl. “He took me prisoner by force—he holds me here by force. Why should I show any regard for him?”
“He doesn’t mean you any harm,” Francesca said, annoyed that her father had left her so little ground to argue on his behalf. “He won’t hurt you.”
Ran-Del’s scowl evolved into a sneer. “Would you consider yourself hurt if I dragged you into the forest and held you prisoner in my home?”
She shivered at the intensity of his hostility. It occurred to her that he would be even angrier when he found out the reason that he had been brought here. “Maybe, but we really don’t mean you any harm.” She gestured toward the tray. “Won’t you eat something? It’s very good stew.”
For some reason this reference to stew provoked him first to an angry glare and then to a look of utter desolation.
“What is it?” she said. “What’s wrong?”
He turned away. “Go away. I’m not hungry.”
“You will be later. I’ll leave the tray.”
“Do as you wish. I can’t stop you.”
She gave up and turned to go.
“Wait!”
She halted. “Yes?”
“Do you know why your father brought me here?”
A lie formed on her lips, but she was surprised to find that she was unwilling to speak it. “Yes, but I can’t tell you yet.”
Ran-Del turned away and stood looking out the window while she left with her four protectors right behind her.
Francesca returned to her room in a thoughtful mood. Leave it to Pop to find a savage who could fascinate her.