Ester and I were bound together centuries before we were born. It makes me wonder about reincarnation and karma, and whether our souls might have met at another time.

“So how were they supposed to know?” I ask. “I mean…how would Harding and Pencroft know when the time was right to find the sub again?”

Ester tucks in her knees. “That gray map in the captain’s cabin. The genetic reader. They would only work for Nemo’s direct descendants. Only after a certain number of generations had passed. I don’t know how Nemo decided. We didn’t…My ancestors didn’t know exactly how long the wait would be. Your dad tried it when he was a student at HP. No luck. Then he tried it again, two years ago, just to see, I guess. For whatever reason, it worked. He was the first.”

A clinch knot tightens in my throat.

I remember the electric sensation traveling up my arm when I had gripped that weird robotic paperweight. My father had done the same thing before me. I can almost feel his warm, callused hand slipping into mine.

“I knew about alt-tech.” Ester shivers, which makes Top cuddle closer. “The board of trustees—they briefed me last fall. Not all the details, but about your family. And my family. I wanted to tell you. Keeping those secrets felt wrong…and dangerous. But the trustees control my inheritance, and the school. They made me sign a bunch of papers. If I said anything to anyone, even you…I’m so sorry, Ana. Maybe if I’d talked to you earlier, we could have saved HP.”

I want to reassure her, but my voice won’t work. Too many facts are swirling around in my head.

“I’m the last of the Hardings,” she says. “The Pencrofts died off a generation ago. The trustees don’t like me. After my aunt died when I was six…She was the last of the really great Hardings. I’m just…just me.”

The sadness in her voice makes my heart ache. “Oh, Ester—”

“When I turn eighteen,” she forges on, “they’re supposed to give me some control. But…you know, they might never. They doubt I’m capable. Now the school is gone. I need to rebuild HP. I don’t know how. I’m sorry if you hate me now, Ana. I don’t want you to hate me.”

I think about poor Ester living at HP since she was six years old. I knew about her aunt’s death. I knew she had no living family, just legal guardians, but I’d never appreciated how much pressure and responsibility went along with the Harding name. All her life, instead of being loved and nurtured, Ester had been watched over by a council of lawyers who loved and nurtured her money while monitoring her for signs of incompetence. At least I’d known my parents. I’d had them in my life.

“Ester, I don’t hate you,” I promise. “Of course I don’t. You weren’t allowed to say anything.”

Her lip quivers. “The others will hate me, though.”