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The tunnel wasn’t completely pitch-black. Every hundred feet or so a fluorescent emergency light projected an unhealthy glow on the tunnel walls. The pattern of dark and light created a trail leading off into the distance.

“We have to get moving before another train comes,” she told him, reaching for her magic and still finding it dead. “I think I saw a service tunnel that branched off a little ways back.”

Together they stumbled down the track, listening for the telltale rumble of an approaching train. Finally, they found the tunnel. The jaundice-yellow lights lining its walls barely cut through the gloom.

“You don’t think they’ll search the tunnels once they realize we’re not on the train?” Harte asked as they paused in the narrow opening.

“Let’s hope we’re out of here before they find us,” she told him. “Come on.”

They made their way into the gloom of the smaller service tunnel until the fluorescent glow of the main tunnel was no longer visible. A train passed by in the distance, making the ground shiver.

“Hopefully we can avoid the Guard, at least until our affinities return.”

“What if they don’t return completely?” Harte asked, voicing the question that had been worrying Esta since the blast of ice had drained her power. “What if Nibsy’s done something to corrupt our magic?”

“They will.” They have to. Without her affinity, they couldn’t return to the past. “Nibsy needs us in 1902,” she reminded him. “We’re no good to him here—especially now. He wouldn’t have done anything to jeopardize our ability to go back.”

Harte grunted. She didn’t need to see his face to know he wasn’t feeling nearly as confident as she had just sounded.

She wished that she were as confident as she’d just sounded.

But Esta had to believe that she was right. The old man had only turned the gun on himself to make a point: This life didn’t matter. This version of history was nothing to him.

“I can practically hear you thinking over there,” Harte said. He spoke softly, but the darkness amplified his voice.

She stopped, suddenly overwhelmed by everything, and after a second she felt him step closer, felt him reach for her. His fingers brushed along her neck, finding her face in the darkness. He cupped her cheek gently with one hand, and she stepped into him as he pulled her closer with his free arm.

“Are you okay?” he asked, giving her words back to him.

“I will be.” It wasn’t a lie, but she was glad for the darkness. It was easier to pretend to be strong when he couldn’t see the doubt on her face. “We don’t need our affinities,” she told him, but it felt like she was really trying to convince herself.

He huffed his disagreement.

“I’m not saying they wouldn’t be helpful,” she said. “But we’re more than our magic, Harte. We always have been. For now we just need to keep moving.”

He didn’t respond, neither to argue nor to agree.

“For example, we don’t need magic to get out of these tunnels,” she said, trying to remember one of the many lessons of her youth. She’d studied everything about the city, including the tunnels and rivers that lay beneath the modern streets. Professor Lachlan had prepared her for everything—maybe even for this.

“We don’t?”

She stepped back from him. “No, we don’t,” she said, finally getting her bearings. “This way.”

They walked for what felt like an eternity, stopping so Esta could consider their options any time they came to another place where the tunnels branched off. But her knowledge of the tunnels was more theoretical than practical. She couldn’t be sure she was taking the right turns.

For a while they didn’t speak. It had been only a few hours since they’d crossed the bridge back into the city, but enough had happened to fill entire days. The darkness of the tunnels and the comforting silence between them gave Esta time to think, to realize exactly how much they’d just been through. But one thought—one question—kept rising to the surface.

“How did you know?” she asked. Esta didn’t specify what she meant, but Harte seemed to understand immediately.

“You mean, how did I know that it wasn’t you?” He let out a long breath. “There were a lot of reasons. The fact that her arm was scarred and healed over was the thing that confirmed it. But that wasn’t what made me suspect at first.”

“What was?”

He didn’t immediately answer. Instead, the crunch of gravel beneath their feet filled the space of words. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer and, despite still having her hand in his, he sounded farther away. “She told me that she loved me.”

“And you didn’t believe her,” Esta said, her stomach twisting with some emotion that she didn’t want to name.

“No,” Harte said. “I didn’t.”