"He kissed me," she said.
Delia set down her cake. "Ah."
"He asked if he could touch me, and I said yes, and then he—" Verity made a helpless gesture. "And I—"
"Kissed him back?"
"Yes."
"And then?"
"And then I asked for time." The memory of his hand still warm on her neck, his breath coming harsh, the visible effort of his restraint. "And he gave it to me. Immediately. Without question. He just... stepped back."
Delia was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was gentle. "That must have been difficult. For both of you."
"I don't know what I'm doing." She heard her own voice go thin. "I have no framework for this. No reference material. I have spent my entire adult life in archives, Delia. The closest I have come to—tothis—is reading accounts of it in other people's correspondence."
"No one has ever—?"
"Never."
Delia reached across the small table and took Verity's hand. Her fingers were warm, her grip solid.
"I didn't know what I was doing, either," she said quietly. "I spent my whole life being told I was too much. Too big, too visible, took up too much space. And then this enormous orc looked at me like I was the most precious thing he'd ever seen, and I didn't have words for what that felt like."
"How did you—what did you—"
"I let myself feel it." Delia squeezed her hand. "I stopped trying to understand it and just... let it happen. Which is not advice a scholar wants to hear, I know."
"It really isn't."
"But it's the only advice I have." Delia released her and sat back. "Orcs don't court the way Valdaran men do. There are no flowers and poetry and carefully orchestrated encounters. There's just... honesty. He wants you. You want him. Everything else is negotiation."
"That sounds terrifying."
"It is." Delia's smile was knowing. "It's also the most alive I've ever felt. Being seen like that cracks you open. But what grows in the cracks..."
She trailed off, one hand moving absently to rest on the swell of her belly.
Verity watched the gesture. This was not theoretical. This was not academic. Delia had walked this path, from fear to trust to something that had reshaped her entire existence.
"He's giving me space," Verity said. "Targesh. I haven't seen him since last night."
"He won't seek you out." Delia's eyes were sympathetic. "Orc males take consent seriously. More seriously than any Valdaran man I ever encountered. If you asked for time, he'll give you time."
"And what if I don't know how much time I need?"
"Then you figure it out. And when you're ready—" Delia stood, gathering the remains of her provisions. "You go to him."
She paused at the door, looking back.
"For what it's worth, Targesh is the most controlled person I've ever met. Orc or human. If he kissed you, if he let you see himwantsomething..." She shook her head. "That's not small. That's not casual. Whatever this is, it matters to him."
She left.
Verity sat alone in the quiet room, Delia's words echoing in her mind.
Whatever this is, it matters to him.
