Page 15 of Caged By Dance and Desire

Andrei still didn't move. “If I assured you your place in the company is?—”

I sucked in a breath, holding up a hand. “Don't. Please don't. I don't want to go there.”

“Interesting. Why not? Do you think you're not good enough to court favor?”

“I'm very good at what I do. Besides, I have an edge.” I hadn't meant to say that.

“An edge?”

I shook my head. “Never mind. The point is, I don't want my place through. . .what's the word for nepotism but you're not remotely related?”

The corner of his mouth curled up in a slightly mocking though still gentle—but now much darker—smile. “Politics.”

“Okay. That.”

“You're a proud little thing, aren't you?”

I shifted on the bench, not liking the deepening amusement in his voice. “Would you like it if everything you've earned was because your mother waved her hand and pulled strings behind the scenes?”

His smile vanished. “It doesn't work like that in the Courts, little mortal.”

I'd touched a sore spot. Good. He was hammering on mine.

“What you claim you must keep by bargain or force, even with the backing of someone powerful. Eventually you must survive personal challenge, and it's in no patron's interest to cultivate the weak.”

“I don't care about Court politics.” My voice sharpened, matching his. “My point is, if you don't like the idea ofpolitickingyour way to the top, why should I? Because I'm human, because I'm female? Or because you've decided you want to bed me?”

The temperature in the coach heated, and not with lust.

“You're in a mood,” he said after what felt like him hovering on the cusp of a less mild response. He straightened and crossed his ankle over his knee, leaning back. “Have you eaten?”

My eyes widened. “You think I'm hangry?”

Andrei paused. “Han. . .gry?”

“Hungry and angry mashed up.”

“Hangry. Hangry. Hmm. English has a few interesting words. We have the same concept, of course, but no single word for it other than fool.”

“Why fool?”

His stiff expression turned quizzical. “What else would you call it when you deprive yourself of sustenance to the point of affecting your manners and ability to reason? Who does that?”

My brows slammed down. “Spoken like someone who's never had to ration. You make it sound like a failure of intelligence. Not everyone can afford to eat whatever they want, whenever they need it.”

There'd been times, especially when I was paying for extra training, that I'd rationed low quality food to the point of dancing under the constant threat of low blood sugar.

“I've offended you,” he said. “My apologies. Buthaveyou eaten today?”

I frowned, looking out the window, and crossed my arms over my chest, not wanting to discuss I wasstillrationing. I probably could have brought some of the fruit with me though.

“Hasannah.” He sounded like he was pinching the bridge of his nose. “We discussed this. This isbasic.Mathen is yours, if you tell him—never mind. I begin to understand what I'm dealing with. I'll handle it.”

“I don't know why you have to sound so annoyed,” I said, my arms tightening.

“Really?” The sarcasm in his voice almost made me turn to look at him. “I'd be ridiculed throughout the city for all time if my woman fainted from hunger.Hunger.As if I'm too oblivious or incompetent to see to something as simple asfeedingher, since it’s certainly no matter of wealth.”

Oh, chàng trai, di nào. Next time I would just lie.

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