Page 68 of Shadowed Whispers

Bishop leans forward, enthusiasm evident in his posture. “Alberti’s disk let you encrypt a message by swapping each letter of the plaintext with another letter from a shifted alphabet, like this.” He gestures toward the wheel as I align the rings to set a cipher key. “Once set, you can encode your message by aligning each letter of your plaintext message with a corresponding letter on another ring.”

“So it’s like a portable Enigma machine?” I muse, still turning the wheel, watching the letters blur into one another.

“Exactly,” Bishop replies. “But much older and simpler. The challenge I have for you is to not only understand how to use this wheel, but to decrypt a message that was encoded with it over four centuries ago. We recently acquired a letter believed to be encoded using this very device.”

A thrill of anticipation races through me. Decrypting a real historical message could catapult my academic career to new heights, perhaps even help me carve out a reputation beyond the scandals and shadows that have clung to me.

Bishop stands, his presence commanding. “I’ll provide you with the tools, resources, and historical context you’ll need. Your task will be to crack the code and uncover the message. Think of it as a bridge between history and modern cryptography. So what do you think?”

“Count me in,” I say without a moment’s hesitation, my earlier frustrations forgotten as my gaze returns to the cipher wheel.

“Good.” He smiles, his demeanor softening. “I knew you couldn’t resist a good puzzle. Meet me tomorrow, and we’ll start your journey into the past, one cipher at a time.”

As I pack the cipher wheel back into its box, I can’t help but feel a surge of anticipation. Matteo’s voice breaks through my thoughts, his tone teasing. “So that’s how we get a genuine smile from you. Give you a puzzle.”

I look up, meeting his eyes, and there’s a spark there that tells me he’s just as intrigued by the mystery as I am. Maybe this project could be more than just an academic exercise. It could be a chance to rewrite my own history and prove that I’m more than just my past mistakes.

“I like puzzles.” I shrug, my smile mirroring his. “Sounds exactly like what I need.”

It’s also a distraction that couldn’t have come at a more appropriate time. I clutch the little box to my chest, almost not wanting to hand it over, but I do.

“As much as I’d love to just hand this over to you, the university would fire me on the spot,” Bishop whispers. “It’s only a day, firefly.”

I’m going to have to work with him on this alone, probably in an enclosed space. This is a terrible idea. As he packs the cipher away, though, I know I’m going to show up either way—not only because I love puzzles, but because that artifact is something not a lot of people can get their hands on.

“Let’s get you fed.” Matteo tugs me close, breaking the spell the cipher holds over me.

Just as I shoulder my bag, a familiar and unwelcome voice booms through the classroom, cutting through the remaining tension like a knife.

“There you are,” Dorian declares, his presence like a dark cloud looming at the door. The room turns cold as his eyes meet mine, filled with expectation and anger.

“Dorian, always a pleasure,” Bishop responds with thinly veiled sarcasm, not bothering to mask the underlying tension.

“You are supposed to meet with me daily at twelve sharp for lunch.” Dorian taps his wrist, where there is no watch, to emphasize his point.

“I have class from eleven to, well, now on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Dorian.” Irritation simmers up my spine, bolstering my resolve to stand a little taller against his imposing figure.

I swear I see a muscle twitch under his eye as he stomps down the steps. “Then we go now,” he growls, his glare darting from Bishop to Matteo.

“We were just about to have lunch,” Matteo interjects smoothly, his voice a calm contrast to Dorian’s growling.

“No.” Dorian stops, his nostrils flaring. “Let’s go.”

I glance between Matteo and Dorian, the tension between them thick enough to slice. “Actually, Dorian,” I start, my voice steady despite the rising heat in my chest, “I was about to discuss something important with Bishop.”

Dorian’s glare intensifies, and he takes a menacing step closer. “It can wait.”

Matteo tightens his grip on me. “She said it’s important, Dorian. Maybe you should listen for once.”

Bishop, ever the mediator, steps in with a calm yet firm tone. “Dorian, Francesca is right. Academic matters take precedence. You can reschedule your lunch.” He gives Dorian a pointed look that even I wouldn’t dare challenge.

Dorian clenches his jaw, his eyes darting from Bishop to me, then back to Matteo. His stance softens just slightly, a sign of his begrudging acceptance. “Fine,” he spits out, his words clipped. “But this isn’t over. Francesca, I’ll be waiting outside. Fifteen minutes.” Without waiting for a response, he pivots and storms out of the classroom, slamming the door behind him.

The moment the door shuts, the tension in the room breaks like a snapped string. I exhale, not realizing I had been holding my breath. Matteo loosens his hold, looking down at me with a concerned frown. “Are you okay?”

I nod, managing a shaky smile. “Yeah, just the usual Dorian drama. Thanks for stepping in.”

Bishop chuckles dryly, walking over to his desk and shuffling some papers. “I suggest you use those fifteen minutes wisely, Francesca. Let’s quickly outline your project with the cipher wheel, so you can handle Dorian without this hanging over your head.”

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