This might be unpopular, but part of me has always felt sorry for Elaine Komondorski. She was a slave who wanted nothing more than to get out. She is only human. We might not know anything about her worst personal demons and what she personally endured as a slave.
At any rate, anyone can have a moment of weakness and make the wrong decision. But isn't self-preservation mankind's most inherent trait (actually of
any living thing), and stronger than anything else?! Who is to say that her particular gene mods didn't kick self-preservation in high gear; even if not, still.
Anyway, Elaine is hiding from the Ballroom. If they find her, will they escort her back to Jeremy for a long discussion or kill her on the spot? If Jeremy finds her or gets to talk to her, he may understand and forgive her, and they could actually fall in love. I got a very special arrow awaiting the time they get close.
Do we have a case of two escaped slaves falling in love with each other? If we don't, the author better rectify that situation asap, before my warped brain starts thinking something along the lines of 'how can the galaxy be expected to see a slave as a normal person if they don't see each other as a normal person who is good enough to fall in love with.'
At any rate, we can all sit here and say what we would have done if we were in Elaine Komondorski's shoes. But if we had been a slave all of our life, and suddenly an opportunity to escape falls in our lap, can all of us
really say that we would pass it up even if we have to sell out a cargo load full of slaves?
In any case, should we give the woman a break? After all, she was a victim who suffered in the bed of Pavel Young. Now if I can just remember that apropos concept in crminal law.
...
Time served!!!
Fine print: Most of the books I have not read more than once. And I have had the book containing Elaine Komondorski's escape on my personal hit list. So I may be quite foggy about her dossier. Admittedly, I recall being angry as hell at her myself. Anyway, do pardon me if I offend your Cupist sensibilities. Trust me, I mean well.