“There are multiple meanings to how we use the words stallion or mare.” She traced the table wood grain with a finger. “It’s important to know the context, or you might end up in trouble.”

“And your context right now?”

“The preferred sex of your bed partners, naturally.” Mischief sparkled in her eyes. “Do you run with stallions? Do you run with mares?” She shrugged. “Some don’t like to run at all, but that’s not you, is it?”

Kihrin scraped his hand through his hair. “No, that’s not me. Mares, then.” Kihrin hesitated. “Why is that a trap?”

“Because it’s the only time in Jorat where the words stallion, mare, and so on indicate the equipment between one’s legs. Normally, when one refers to a human as a stallion or mare, we’re discussing their gender.”

Kihrin stared. “And you weren’t talking about gender before? You’re a woman. Isn’t that what you mean by mare?”

Her mouth twisted. “You’re conflating gender with sex. My sex—my body—is female, yes. But that’s not my gender. I’m a stallion. And stallion is how Joratese society defines our men. So you’re wrong; I’m most certainly not a woman.”

Kihrin’s eyes widened. “You just said you were female.”

She sighed. “Who I am as a man is independent of”—she gestured to herself—“this. It wouldn’t matter if I were male, female, or neither; I would still be a stallion.”

Kihrin stared harder. “You’re … a man.” His gaze wandered down her tunic, lingered at her legs, then hiked back up to her face. “Obviously.”

Janel rolled her eyes. “Again, you’re conflating woman and female. I can’t blame you; they must be synonyms in the west. But rest assured, they’re not here.” She looked down at herself, plucked the neck of her tunic. “Normally, when one uses mare or stallion to describe a person, they’re talking about gender. And by that definition, I’m a man. But for sex, the rules change. Because then we’re talking about aesthetic preferences, in which case”—she looked down at herself—“I’m most likely to meet the standards of someone who prefers female partners. I am in fact a female man.” She smiled. “Do you see the trap now?”

He shook his head. If someone looked like a woman to him—Janel, for example—how was he supposed to act around them if they defined themselves as … a man? And how was he supposed to know the difference? He’d always assumed the equipment between one’s legs was in fact an important part of figuring out who was a man and who was a woman.

But not according to Janel, and apparently not according to the rest of Jorat either. Oh, he saw the trap. He just wasn’t sure he understood how it worked, let alone how to avoid it.