Stahma doesn't have to hear the confidence in his tone to see it in his body language — the straight lines of his back and shoulders, the unconcerned way he clasps his hands together where they rest on the table. So the idea of having to fight to regain his command is one he doesn't fear — perhaps even enjoys.

"Ambition," she echoes. "Your culture encourages gaining power through struggle, then. Through superior wit, or through force of arms."

She smiles, and takes a sip of her tea to mask the expression threatening to creep onto her face — envy, almost. If it were that simple for her, she would have taken control of her husband's business out from under him a long time ago.

"My people have a strict caste system; those who rule do so by right of birth. Attempting to step out of one's place is shameful. A Castithan man who tried to take power that was not rightfully his..."

Stahma lowers her eyes, just briefly, and her smile acquires a slight edge. "That is not to say that it doesn't happen, but such an attempt that did not succeed would bring dishonor on the man's liro — his caste. It is... not encouraged."

And women, of course, are nowhere in the power structure. If Stahma had been born a man, with all the privileges of the shanje liro, she would have had all the power she could want. The bitterness she feels at knowing that is terrible.