Lucy's "submission" had been a ploy. Once she realized her status as a slave, and Travanix's complete lack of compassion, she had worked through the situation like a chess game. "Better to humor him, respect him, serve him," she had thought to herself, "and then he will grow accustomed to me, so I have some chance of escape." Since that first vengeful thought (which Travanix had caught so easily!) she had not considered killing him.

Her first move, as she saw it, was the note. She had written him a diplomatic and flattering note, proclaiming her submission. But in reality it had been a cold, self-serving maneuver: she placed limits upon her good behavior. In a sense, she had said, "I will attempt to please you, unless...." In this note, she had sworn to him that her species could not be "trained or broken", but only perhaps domesticated. Her greatest gambit, to keep him from beating and mistreating her, had been received courteously and without offense.

He had not crossed her limits. She had a comfortable small bed in a warm room. She had good food daily. She had not been beaten, yelled at, or given any more than the briefest reprimands. He was pleased by her inquisitive mind, her curious nature, her beauty... it was enough to make a girl feel quite valued. She adored compliments, and would earn them!

Her position with the Lord (whom she called Master only in moments of high emotion, or fleeting desire - her gift to him) was less clear. Her feline empathy told her only feelings, and the Lord barely had any. He desired her, when she had first stood naked before him in the dirty Alley. When she had first knelt to him. But he had treated her more distantly than her previous employer, touching her only dispassionately, as if she were a piece of furniture he was adjusting.

Did the Lord care for her, in any sense she understood? He did not love her, for love shone like the sun, it was entirely visible to her. Still, she had to wonder why she had been treated excellently, even gently. When she misunderstood, he corrected her and was not angry. When she confessed to him her fear of water, he had allowed her to bathe with a dish and sponge rather than a shower. He had not even required her to become dirty. Why should he be so good to her, if he had no good in him?

Lucy thought about him almost constantly. He was a puzzle, and a force of nature, and a strong man who had managed to capture her. She dreamed of him at night, and these dreams seemed to come from her own mind.

She wondered if she was becoming domesticated. Was this what it felt like?