Encryption of the Heart (Love, Tech, & Magic #1)

Chapter Twenty-One

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” Olline murmured, as she watched Casimir pace from her kitchen island then back to where she sat on the floor. His fingers twitched occasionally, flicking imaginary loose threads off his clothes or drumming on a crate she hadn’t unpacked yet as he passed by.

He stopped mid stride, blinking at her like his mind had been galaxies away. Casimir scoffed and straightened his shirt, eyes downcast; he seemed embarrassed despite the coy grin. “My dear, if it’s all the same to you, I think I’d rather stay. As a precaution. After the heart attack you nearly gave me, it’s really the least you can do.”

Suspicion trickled under her breastbone like icy water. Olline had seen how much more frantic he had been when he first arrived, and this . . . this wasn’t that. She narrowed her eyes, looking up from the devices she was idly fiddling with. “Something’s bothering you. Something else . If you’re going to stay, you might as well spit it out.” His eyebrow raised in amusement and she rolled her eyes. “Don’t be gross.”

Casimir chuckled but didn’t immediately answer. So, Olline connected remotely to the servers back in the Government Plaza. After finding the type of evidence files she could use as a ruse to reach out to Delora, she queued a message request to send later in the afternoon. Statistically, Delora was more likely to be at her desk then. With two more flicks of a finger, Olline was able to take all the passcodes Casimir had provided, copy them, and begin the true cloning process. She wouldn’t delete the files until Delora was well and truly on their side, but Olline was feeling, if not confident, at least hopeful.

He seemed to sense she had finished a task as he came to perch behind her on the couch. “If you must know, your little stint of silence has made me more, shall we say, anxious about everything,” he said haltingly. “For as much as I try to keep up appearances by haunting the usual places Etzel leaves me, making the rounds with the few thralls I do interact with so we have no more surprises like Bode, I’ve no real proof that Etzel hasn’t tried to command me to do something nefarious.” He exhaled loudly through his nose, examining his nails, feigning at being unbothered despite the sharpness in his tone that betrayed his fraying nerves.

A vice squeezed her heart at his words. Olline swiveled around so she could look at him, and gently placed her hand on his knee. She wished she could do more, she wanted to do more to comfort him. But with the way Casimir’s muscles tensed beneath her touch, she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps she was reading too much into the way he worried for her safety. “If it’d make you feel better,” she offered, leaving her hand where it was for the moment, “we can focus on your files for a while? Maybe if we can crack it, that’ll give you some peace of mind?”

The muscles in his jaw flexed as he clenched his mouth shut. Despite that, his eyes were soft on her face and she had the sudden urge to reach up and cup his chin. But then his gaze slid away and focused on the holo-tablet in her lap. “Have you finished then?” he asked, gesturing to the files currently loading. “With identifying all the documents and whatnot connected to Etzel and the chips?”

She lifted a shoulder in a light shrug. “Almost. But it’s fine, I can come back and finish later if it’ll help you—”

Casimir cut her off with a sharp shake of the head. He gave her fingers a squeeze, holding tight for one breath, then two, before relinquishing his grip and moving her hand off his knee. She expected that to sting, but the movement had seemed so bittersweet that, instead, there was an ache of longing deep in her core.

“No, best you stay focused, darling.” His voice was so dead that she didn’t have the heart to give a sarcastic retort about not calling her “darling”, even though, truthfully, she was starting to like the nickname. Well, she liked when he said it. He noted the pained look in her gaze and his eyes flicked away as if burned. “Finish finding all the files that this Under Senator may need,” he said, moving off the couch and resuming his slow pace around her kitchen and living room, her giant monstera idly tracking his movements by tilting its leaves. “I’ve waited this long; I can certainly wait a bit more.”

Frowning, and not sure what else to do, Olline went back to the task at hand. Her thoughts were elsewhere, though, as she mechanically moved everything over. Distracted by why Casimir didn’t seem interested in cracking into his own file. Whether because he didn’t know the element Etzel used to designate him, or he didn’t want Olline to see that side of him, she didn’t know.

She wished she respected that decision more.

Eventually, she would need to get into that folder despite Casimir’s reservations. Until she accessed his file, she couldn’t use her magic to dismantle the chip currently embedded somewhere in the spinal column at the base of his neck. They needed those schematics or the risk to Casimir should she tinker with the chip . . . She shuddered, unable to think about it in more detail. With a heavy sigh, she turned away. For now, she supposed, it could wait. After all, Etzel was still distracted elsewhere.

Come the early evening, Olline had done everything she could. “I’m done,” she said to Casimir’s back, as he was still prowling her apartment, rechecking places as if he expected spy devices to have suddenly appeared. “Do you want to try to crack open your files now?”

He hesitated for a moment, opened his mouth, and then closed it with a snap. “No, best not. We need to keep up pretenses still. Your supervisor, Karter, was it? If he’s suspicious, best you pretend to be working on that project for a bit.” He forced a smile that quivered at the edges. Before she could reassure him it was fine, he had resumed his pacing. “I can wait, remember? Besides, I do so love watching you work.”

And he had been content to watch her for a time, but eventually he moved off to one of the large windows where her vine plants crawled up the panes, soaking in what they could of the sun. Much like her plants, Casimir stood in the beam of light, eyes closed, relishing the feel of the sun on his skin.

She watched him as she worked, a lurch of sadness twisting her heart. Where Casimir lived, where the clubs were that he had to frequent, he rarely got up high enough in the city to see actual light, to feel a breeze that wasn’t caused by buzzing bots and aerial traffic. She didn’t blame him for wanting to stay in the window, in the natural light.

If their places had been switched, Olline would do the same.

Maybe we aren’t all that different, after all.

“See something you like, Olline?” Casimir said with a chuckle, studying her from over his shoulder.

She blinked rapidly, unaware that she had been staring so obviously, her thoughts having drifted a thousand miles away. Almost without thinking, she responded, “Maybe. Do you see something you like?” she asked, gesturing vaguely at the window.

He turned to face her; the light making him glow like some sinful god. He tilted his head as he watched her. “What’s not to like? You have the whole package, my dear. Oh, and the view out the window isn’t bad either.”

Olline couldn’t help but chuckle despite the burn of her blush. “You overhear that line at one of your clubs?”

She decided Casimir flirted because it was safer than anything real. He’d had a chance to say what he truly felt, shied away, and came back to his lines. The trench he was digging between them, that kept her at arm’s length, was becoming a chasm. If Olline didn’t do something about the distance soon, something as silly as bluntly telling him how she felt, then eventually it would become an abyss she could never cross. Even though his words tickled her core, this wasn’t the version of Casimir she craved.

Then he smiled.

His lazy smile was heart meltingly slow and sweet. He studied her, as if drinking in her laugh. “How could I not use that line after you queued it up so perfectly?” he chuckled, and took a few steps toward where she was sitting on the floor. “Doesn’t make it any less true, though.”

Despite the heat she felt spreading from her cheeks to the tips of her ears, Olline rolled her eyes and went back to work. She heard him shift, going back to the window. Each time there was a pause in her work while she waited for something to generate, she would steal glances at him. Each time, her core melted all over again.

In need of a better distraction, she flexed her fingers over the raw materials, the wires and minerals, and called to the magma deep in her core that was her magic. Olline was powerful enough in her specialized version of earth magic that she didn’t need to twist her fingers and hands in order to shape the magic at her disposal, but she did need to shut her eyes and visualize what she was doing, what she wanted to happen. Not dissimilar to what had occurred at Refractory, minus the lust taking over. She envisioned the result, the elements before her lighting up until, in her mind’s eye, she was seeing in ultraviolet. Once she could see everything, she began shuffling the molecules that made up the ores and minerals before her to bring the final result to life.

Her plants fluttered in response. Whenever she drew on her power, her plants, tied to her and her magic, responded in kind. It could be interpreted as fear, the plants she had created worried that she would take the magic from them to accomplish her goals, though Olline would never do something so heartless to her friends. She liked to think they knew that, but that was giving the plants more sentience than even Olline was willing to do.

Regardless, the background sound of the swaying leaves and quivering vines was soothing, creating a sort of white noise hum accompanied by the fresh scent of newly turned soil that filled the apartment. It was loud enough that she didn’t even hear Casimir creep closer until he stopped nearby, sinking to the floor at her side.

She stiffened, her magic stalling for a moment, but he didn’t interrupt her, didn’t even sit close enough for her to feel the crackle of his presence. But she knew he was nearby all the same. When nothing happened, she continued her work, picking up flawlessly from where she left off.

Olline was a slow eruption, pouring her warmth, her power, into her task. But eventually, the fuel for that magma dwindled. Her ultraviolet vision faded. The molecules blinked out one by one until all that was left was the glow of the raw elements, and even that disappeared soon enough. Her plants stopped swaying, and the heat in her chest, her arms, all the way to the tips of her fingers, dissipated until her arms trembled with exertion. She wasn’t done with what she was working on, but she was closer, and that was good enough for now.

With a deep breath, she lowered her arms, her eyes slowly fluttering open. Once her vision could focus again, the first thing she saw was Casimir.

Whatever he had witnessed, it had captivated him.

Olline shot a quick glance down at her computer components, but besides a faint glow around the materials, nothing looked different, at least to the untrained eye. Nothing had moved, nothing had morphed and transformed into something visible. Olline had been manipulating the ore at a molecular level. There was truly nothing to see. Her eyes darted back to his face, but the look remained.

There was an air of contentment around Casimir, an ease that she had never felt from him before. The raw sensuality of him was gone, replaced by this softer version, the version she imagined he had been before his brother sold him to Etzel: easily captivated by the magic around him, taking joy from others enjoying what they were doing. Olline had little experience in connecting to the empathetic pull that most earth casters had, but in this moment, Casimir’s feelings were so obvious that they felt like her own.

Olline held her breath, desperate not break the spell. As the last of her plants settled down and the glow faded from her materials, Casimir blinked slowly and, with a little shake, came back to himself. Immediately, the feeling of serenity that had enveloped him was gone, replaced by that vague, coy grin he always wore. Olline reached out, wondering if she could touch his face and feel the Casimir of before lurking within, but she stopped herself.

She imprinted the memory of his expression, the sensation of him, into her very bones so she could always hold it tight. It was only then that she remembered what she had created for him. Excitement rippled through her. It was a long shot, or maybe it wasn’t. She didn’t know, but she hoped that maybe this was the way to keep the version of Casimir she yearned for as the default instead of the mask he wore.

With a little gasp, she shot to her feet, startling Casimir. “Don’t move,” she called, darting from the room and into her bedroom.

The orchids straightened their curved stems in welcoming when she entered. She greeted her creations distractedly, eyes wide, as she glanced around the space. She may have forgotten her gift in the chaos of Casimir showing up like he did, but she knew right where she’d left it. Gently, she scooped up the little pot and the deceptively resilient bloom she had coaxed to grow. Cradling the flower in her hands, she marched back out into the living room and said, “Close your eyes.”

She waited for Casimir to comply, grumbling all the while, before sinking back down onto the floor next to him and putting the plant carefully on the table in front of him. She didn’t have to be so cautious with the plant, she of all people knew that. But she was so proud of this creation that it elicited a reverent response from her all the same.

Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand on his shoulder and positioned herself so she could see his face. “Okay,” she murmured, “you can open them now.”

Olline wasn’t worried about giving him a gift like this. With how he was around her plants, and how hypnotized he had been by watching her wield magic, she knew he would at least take care of the plant. The trick was making sure she got it right.

There were hundreds of plant types, hundreds more when magic was in the mix. It would be so easy, nay, too easy, for her to have made something that didn’t fit Casimir. The probability that she had gotten it wrong was high given the small window into Casimir and his life she had been gifted. Yet, Olline had a good feeling about this.

Casimir gave a sharp intake of breath. His garnet red eyes widened, and he hesitantly reached out toward the blooms, afraid to touch them. A tentative smile slowly built as the surprise settled in.

“Did you,” he began, voice halting and raw, before clearing his throat and taking a deep breath. “You made this?”

Olline nodded enthusiastically, the hesitant grin she had before stretching into a dazzling smile. “It’s a black orchid, but I’ve modified it for you.” She rotated the pot slightly so he could better see the long stem clustered with blooms. The flowers were blacker than the void with a faint, feathery indigo hue on the underside of the petals. The stamens were a bright yellow, framed by soft peach, white, and deep red hues on the surrounding petals. “I made sure it doesn’t require any light. Well, not any sunlight. It’ll thrive with the bulbs you have in your apartment. And you don’t even need to water it! Well, you won’t have to water it very often. There’s only so much I could do with the soil, unfortunately. I’ve been calling this variation a ‘night orchid’, but you can name it whatever you want. It’s one of a kind.” She cut herself off before she could add “like you”.

She straightened her shoulders, pointing at the top bloom. “Orchids are my favorite. Both as my favorite flowers, and favorite to work with.” The fronds of her ferns rustled angrily, and she murmured, “Sorry, you know I love you all.”

Olline quickly glanced at Casimir again and noticed that his jaw was tightly shut, his eyes focused on the flower, and his expression suddenly became impossible to read. Her heart sank, her limbs almost too heavy to lift. Was she too presumptuous that he would even want the responsibility of a plant? Even one as changed as the night orchid? Maybe she had been wrong in assuming he would want even more dark colors in his life?

“But if you don’t like it,” she added quickly, “or-or have a different plant you like, I can change it. I just figured, well, you have that little table by your bed with nothing on it and it seemed kind of lonely. You’ve been so nice to me, and well, I guess it’s no secret that I like you, so I wanted you to have something nice in return . . .” She trailed off once she realized what she said. Heat flooded her cheeks. She hadn’t meant to admit liking him, and now he wasn’t even speaking.

Shit, shit, shit!

Casimir may not say what he claimed was becoming obvious between them, but Olline could. Furthermore, she needed to. If she said the words out loud, then the ambiguity was gone, for better or worse, and she could better deal with the consequences. But the grey, liminal space they had found themselves in was one Olline could not thrive in.

The longer the silence stretched, the more oppressive it became, until her chest ached with fear. Casimir was going to react the same way Achan had: turning the plant around in his hands before laughing. Telling her this was cute, but what was happening wasn’t special. All he wanted was to get a closer look at her work, not her. This was the moment she was going to discover Casimir was the same, wasn’t it? He was close to her because of the control chip and what she could do to get rid of it and the damning files tying him to Etzel. Olline tried to keep her breathing steady, reassuring herself that, at least, the ambiguity would be gone and that was what she wanted, after all.

Casimir shook his head in disbelief, and Olline’s breath caught in her throat. “You made this. For me?” He drawled the words, emphasizing each syllable, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Olline nodded hesitantly, reaching out to take the plant back, but he stopped her by capturing her hands in his, cradling them as if they were the delicate blooms instead. “You beautiful creature, you,” Casimir whispered, dipping his head toward her. “Why would you expend your amazing power on me? I’ve . . .” Casimir trailed off, taking a deep breath, before starting again. “I’ve hurt people. Hundreds if not thousands of people. People I can’t even remember. I’m not deserving of such a gift. For this is a gift, thank you. To share your favorite bloom with me is, I don’t know what it is. You, darling Ollie, have left me speechless.”

Olline gripped his hands in return, leaning toward him until his breath tickled her face and she could see the watery sheen over his eyes. “You weren’t given a choice, Casimir. If you had been, I know you wouldn’t have done any of the things Etzel forced on you. I’ve seen the real you, despite you trying to hide it. And yeah, I’ve noticed you doing that a lot, too,” she said with a light giggle. Olline took another deep breath, her voice softening with sincerity. “You love creation! That artists’ club you showed me is evidence of that. I wanted to give you something to show you that I, well, I understand.”

Casimir took a deep ragged breath, his eyes moving from the black orchid on the table, to their clasped hands, to her eyes, before flicking to her lips briefly, and then dragging back up to her eyes where they remained. “No one has ever cared about me like you have. In over a century, you’re the only one. Other people don’t have a soul like you. You’re . . . you. No one is like you, Ollie.”

Olline tilted her chin up, searching for the lie. The deception. Searching his face for some sign she was misreading. But there was nothing there. Casimir’s eyes were heavy with emotion, a happy sadness softening the sharp lines of his face. His tone was husky when he called her “Ollie”, but not honeyed in a way that masked any sort of trick. She removed one of her hands from his and gently traced the line of his chin, making sure this was real .

He leaned into her palm, melting into her light touch. Olline’s stomach flipped, her chest tightening as Casimir relaxed. It was nice to fantasize about his impeccable body, those devilish lips on her neck, those sinful fingers tracing her skin, but the Casimir that was enamored with creation, with life, who could be vulnerable and open . . . Why couldn’t he be like this all the time?

Olline ran her thumb along his jawline, brushing the underside of his lip with the tip of her finger. He met her gaze again, his eyes still vaguely forlorn, but his face was so relaxed that Olline couldn’t help it. She leaned toward him, her lips parting. She moved slowly, letting him decide if he wanted her to kiss him or not.

The corners of Casimir’s lips tightened briefly, before his eyes widened slightly, and he tilted his head toward her. Olline leaned closer, her breath caressing his face, the tip of his nose brushing hers. Her eyes fluttered closed—

Her wrist-communicator pinged.

Olline was happy to ignore the summons, but she felt Casimir pull back slightly. She opened her eyes and her lungs shriveled until she could hardly breathe with the ache in her chest. His mask of nonchalance had slammed down over his face, the lines of his jaw becoming sharp enough to cut her teeth on once again. His eyes weren’t on her though, firmly fixed on her wrist-communicator instead.

Under Senator Delora Peralta had responded to her message request:

Let’s talk.

She glanced back at Casimir. He was grinning faintly, and while getting a response was a good thing, a great thing, even, Olline feared that the fragile moment that had started to take shape had crumbled like a dry, brittle leaf and she would never be able to piece it together again.