by Kobe Bryant
Dear Kob-Kob and Gigi,
You continue to inspire us every day. Here’s to dreams that never die. We love you for now, forever, and for always.
Love,
Viski/Mommy, Natalia, Bianka, and Capri
To Kobe,
who loved stories, inspired wonder, and conjured a world of magic and delight.
And to Gigi,
who inspired this story and so many more.
—Ivy Claire
1
PRETIA
A FAMILY MATTER
“On your marks. Get set. Go.” Pretia opened the door of the van and sprang out before the vehicle had come to a full stop.
Her feet hit the ground for a split second before she raced off.
“Pretia!”
She ignored her parents’ voices. The only thing she cared about was being free, moving, stretching her legs.
Behind her she heard another set of feet hit the ground.
“Catch me if you can,” Pretia called.
“Pretia, wait!” Rovi cried.
“Not a chance,” Pretia hollered. There was no way she was waiting or slowing down, and Rovi knew it.
For a week they had been cooped up in the royal caravan with her parents as Pretia’s family conducted the end-of-summer ceremonial tour of Epoca’s holy sites and her relatives’ palaces. For seven days, she and Rovi had been forced to behave, sit still, and shake the hands of hundreds of strangers. For seven days she’d had to plaster a tight smile on her face while people from all over the country paid their respects to her—bowing to the Child of Hope. Pretia had worked hard not to roll her eyes at the name. For seven days, she had been forced to act as if the most exciting thing in the world was that one day she would rule Epoca.
For seven days, she had not been allowed to run.
But that was over now. This was the last stop: Ponsit Palace, the seat of House Relia, her mother’s ancestral home. Ever since she could remember, Pretia had spent part of her summers here with Queen Helena and Uncle Janos. Unlike the wide-open spaces at Castle Airim, a complicated maze of narrow corridors and secret rooms made up Ponsit Palace. She loved exploring its host of complex rooms and hallways that twisted and coiled, ending in switchbacks and dead ends. There were hidden passages and tunnels all over the building. It was possible to get lost for hours and then find yourself in the exact opposite place from where you expected to be.
This year the trip would be a short one. She only had one day to show it all to Rovi. Tomorrow, along with her uncle and her cousin Castor, they would depart for Ecrof. Pretia didn’t want to waste any time.
“Hurry up,” she scolded Rovi as they raced up to the gates.
An orange late-afternoon sun hung over the squat, square collection of buildings with stocky purple columns spread out across the hilltop. The guard swung the gate open for Pretia. He didn’t even have time to bow before she blasted past him, Rovi in pursuit.
As they sprinted up to the palace, Rovi called, “Is it true that someone once got lost in this palace and was never found?”
“Maybe,” Pretia cried over her shoulder. “Let’s find out!”
They were breathing hard when they bounded up the short flight of stone steps that led to the lowest of Ponsit’s many colonnades.
“It’s too bad we only have today to explore,” Pretia said. She had entered the grand door of the palace and darted to her right down a narrow corridor that led off the main hall. She took two fast turns and was quickly inside the maze of hallways. “There’s so much to see,” she said.
“See?” Rovi said. “I can barely see anything at all.”
He was right. The corridor was dim. But that was the fun of Ponsit. You were often in the dark. “You’ll get used to it,” Pretia said. And ran off again.
“Wait,” Rovi called.
Pretia didn’t listen. She took two more turns, leading them deeper into the palace.
Rovi kept pace. Pretia turned left, then right, then left again. She thought they were heading toward the outermost of the palace’s many courtyards, but she couldn’t be sure. After four more left turns, they hit a dead end and had to double back.
Twice they wound up at the same dead end before Pretia figured out a route that returned them to the original corridor.
“You weren’t joking,” Rovi said. “This place really is a maze.”
“Let’s hope we don’t get lost,” Pretia said.
“No kidding,” Rovi replied. He sounded anxious.
“Let’s go,” Pretia exclaimed, dashing off in the opposite direction from where they had begun.
“Hold on,” Rovi insisted.
But Pretia had raced ahead again. She made three quick turns, then found herself in a small sanctuary she’d never seen before. She pulled up short. There was a bowl for a ceremonial flame, but it was cold and filled with ash. Pretia ran her fingers across the bowl. They came up black. She glanced around. A chill ran through her—was this an altar to Hurell? She searched for some indication of whose shrine she was in, whether it might belong to the Fallen God, but before she could find any, she heard her name echoing through the halls.
“Prrreeeeeetttttiaaaaaaa.”
Rovi sounded panicked.
“In here,” Pretia called.
“Where’s here?”
“I’m right over . . .” she began again. But it was no use. “Stay where you are. I’ll come to you.”
Rovi kept calling her name. Pretia turned left. His voice grew fainter. She turned right. Louder. Right again. Fainter. Left. Louder. Right. Louder. She staggered down a short flight of steps, following the sound of Rovi’s voice. He was nearby . . . somewhere.
She was standing in a dark, cool room. The only light came from a single flame at the far end.
“What is this place?”
She nearly jumped out of her skin. Rovi was right behind her. He sounded scared.
Pretia blinked and rubbed her eyes, adjusting to the dark. “It’s a crypt. They’re all over the palace. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Is—is that someone dead?” Rovi extended a finger toward a stone coffin with a frieze of a Realist queen on it.
“She probably isn’t in there. Epocan royalty are usually hidden way belowground where no one will find them and their jewels or whatever they were buried with. If there’s anyone in that box, it’s probably a servant.”
“Can we get out of here?” Rovi asked.
“Lead the way,” Pretia teased.
Rovi stayed rooted in place.
“I thought you were famous for your fancy footwork,” Pretia added, poking her friend in the ribs.
“I need to see where I’m going,” Rovi said, jumping at her touch. “These walls make me claustrophobic. It’s like the maze is blocking my grana. I can’t even guess which way to turn.”
Pretia shuddered at the thought of something muting her grana, the gods-given talent that allowed her to excel at sports.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll lead.” Rovi followed her as they twisted and turned, finally arriving in a small sanctuary. “This place is such a puzzle,” Pretia marveled.
“It’s more like a trap,” Rovi muttered.
“When you get used to it, you’ll love it,” Pretia promised. And off she ran once more.
They wound their way through the corridors. Soon Pretia was out of breath, but she pressed on.
“Pretia,” Rovi panted behind her, “you know where we are, right?”
“Sort of,” she replied. She did and she didn’t. Three more turns to the left. Two to the right
. Then she bumped against a wall. Rovi crashed into her.
“Never mind,” Rovi said. “You clearly have no idea.”
“Don’t worry,” Pretia said. “Someone will find us . . . eventually.”
“Who? When?” Rovi replied. “We’re supposed to go to Ecrof tomorrow. We can’t miss the ship.”
“You don’t actually think we’re going to be stuck in here all night, do you?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Rovi groaned. “We’ve been in this maze forever.”
“Well,” Pretia replied, “then we need to keep going.”
Rovi sighed.
“We’ll be fine,” Pretia assured him. But truth be told, she was getting a little worried. She’d never been lost for so long in Ponsit. They would find their way out, though. They had to. “Trust me,” she added.
“I do,” Rovi said.
Her best friend’s vote of confidence put an additional spring in her step, making her sprint faster and faster through the twisting halls. They bumped into walls. They doubled back. Pretia’s heart began to race. What if Rovi was right? What if they were really and truly lost?
Deep breaths, she urged herself. Deep. Breaths.
And then they stumbled out into the fresh air. Pretia looked up to see the vault of the blue sky overhead.
“Whoa!” Rovi gasped.
“Just look at you two.” Pretia was startled by the sound of her cousin Castor’s voice. “You’re acting like something was chasing you through the halls.” Then a look of gleeful amazement broke across his face. “Wait. Were you lost?”
“Of course not,” Pretia retorted.
Pretia found Castor annoying, and he could be a bully, but she often felt sorry for him. After all, she was the Crown Princess of Epoca, heir to both House Somni and House Relia. No matter whether her mother’s house, the Realists, or her father’s, the Dreamers, came out victorious in the next Epic Games, she would rule Epoca. And Castor—well, he was always second-best to Pretia, always made to watch from the sidelines as honors were bestowed on her. She tried to remind herself of that when he was being particularly irritating. Like now.
“You were lost,” Castor taunted. “I recognize the panicked expression on your faces.”
Now that Pretia had caught her breath, she was able to see where they had emerged from the maze: the Games Pit, which was exactly where she wanted to be. The pit—a rectangle with a circular track carved into it—was surrounded by four stone walls from which steep stone bleachers rose on all sides. Unlike the famous Athletos Stadium at Castle Airim, whose track and playing field felt accessible, when you were in Ponsit’s Games Pit, you felt trapped by the seating that loomed above.
There were rumors that during the time of Hurell, when many Realists had been lured to follow his dark rule, the Games Pit had been used as an arena for deadly sports battles. Athletes—or rather, prisoners—were forced to compete while spectators towered overhead. But those times were long gone, and now it was where the best athletes of House Relia trained in private.
“What is this place?” Rovi asked.
“It’s a track,” Castor replied.
Rovi glanced around nervously. “It feels more like a jail.”
“That’s because it’s a secret track,” Castor said snidely. “It’s just for the use of people who live in Ponsit. And I’ve been using it all summer to train for the Junior Epic Games.”
Pretia felt a jolt of excitement. This year wasn’t any normal school year. In a couple of months, the Junior Epic Games, the second most important sporting event in Epoca after the Epic Games, were set to be held. Representing your house and your academy was the highest honor a young athlete could receive. The Junior Epic Games were considered to be a prediction of which young athletes would go on to illustrious careers and even Epic Glory.
“You seem pretty confident that you’ll qualify,” Rovi said.
“I have a good coach,” Castor retorted. “My dad.”
Pretia and Rovi exchanged a look. That certainly was an advantage. Not only was Pretia’s uncle Janos their formidable Head Trainer at Ecrof, he was also one of the best athletes Epoca had ever produced.
“We’ve been training, too,” Pretia said.
“Good for you,” Castor replied. “But I’m sure it’s not very hard to get chosen for the Star Stealer team.”
Pretia didn’t have to look to know that Rovi’s cheeks were blazing with anger at the mention of the gang of outcasts he’d been part of in Phoenis.
“Oh whoops,” Castor said, “Star Stealers aren’t allowed to compete in the Junior Epic Games. None of the Orphic People are.”
“Like you know anything about the Orphic People,” Rovi said. “You’re too busy locked up in a palace to have learned the first thing about anyone who isn’t a fancy Realist or Dreamer.”
Pretia glanced down at her shoes. The same could be said for her. She, too, knew little about the Orphic People except that they were made up of gangs of street kids in different cities who were neither Dreamers nor Realists and therefore castaways. Their names differed from city to city, and they were usually considered harmless because they were children. No one knew—or no one told Pretia—what happened to them when they grew up.
“I know enough to be sure that no Star Stealer or Sun Shooter or Moon Grabber or whatever else you’re called is ever going to compete in the Junior Epic Games,” Castor retorted.
“Luckily, I’m not a Star Stealer,” Rovi snapped. “I’m a Dreamer.”
Castor laughed. “As if that’s any better.”
Pretia sighed. Less than a minute after they’d encountered each other, the boys were already at one another’s throats. It was going to be a long year if they kept this up, especially with spots on the Junior Epic Squad at stake.
“How about we settle this on the track,” Pretia suggested.
Castor hesitated.
“Unless you have a problem with outsiders using your secret track, Castor,” she added.
“It’s not that,” Castor said quietly.
“What is it, then?” Rovi asked. “I thought you said you’d been training all summer. Are you afraid?”
“I’m not afraid of you,” Castor said. Then he looked at Pretia.
“You’re afraid of me?” Now it was Pretia’s turn to laugh. “Why?”
Castor glanced nervously from side to side. “You’re not going to do that thing if we race, are you?”
“What thing?” Pretia asked.
“Splitting yourself.”
Pretia took a deep breath. “Why?” Last year, when her grana had finally come, she’d learned that she had a remarkable and unique talent for splitting herself. In a tough competition, she could often watch herself divide in two and see her shadow self race on ahead and accomplish amazing feats she wouldn’t otherwise have imagined possible.
“I want to race you fair and square. That’s all,” Castor said.
“It is fair,” Rovi said. “It’s not cheating. It’s her grana.”
“I’m just saying that if you want to race here on my track, don’t split yourself,” Castor said.
Pretia was suddenly dying to race her cousin. Except for the last week, she and Rovi had been training hard all summer with the exact same goal—to represent Ecrof at the Junior Epic Games. It was basically all they had thought about from the moment they left Ecrof three months ago. And, although it was true that it was easier for her to beat Rovi when she split herself, she often managed to do so without releasing her shadow self. If she could beat Rovi, she could certainly beat Castor, splitting herself or no. Still, it bothered her.
“Let’s go,” she said to Castor. “I’ll try not to scare you.”
“And I’ll try not to embarrass the Child of Hope with how badly I beat her,” Castor boasted.
Pretia reddened. “Don’t call me th
at.”
Castor stepped up to the starting line. “Whatever you say, Child of Hope. I bet you have no hope of making Junior Epics.”
Rovi jumped in before Pretia could reply. “And I bet Pretia can make Epic Elite and compete in the Junior Epic Games even without splitting herself,” Rovi said.
“Doubt it,” Castor said. “Go!”
He took off. Pretia and Rovi followed. They raced around the track, once, twice, three times, their feet in lockstep. Pretia crossed the finish line a split second before the others.
“Pretty good for a princess,” Rovi teased.
“Yeah,” Castor panted. “Pretty good for a princess.”
“I’m not just a princess,” Pretia called back, surprised that the boys had united in teasing her. “And I’m not the Child of Hope. I’m a future Junior Epic Champion.”
“Then show me what you got,” Rovi answered. And with his trademark fast footwork, he reversed course and began racing in the opposite direction on the track.
Castor cupped his hand over his mouth and called after him, “Not bad for a Star Stealer!” He sounded impressed, which also surprised Pretia.
“You two better catch me if you’re going to make the Junior Epic Team,” Rovi said.
“Don’t worry,” Pretia replied, racing toward him. Castor kept pace. Once more, they sprinted around, with Pretia now in the lead.
All summer, she’d only had Rovi to race. She was now so used to running against her friend that it had become routine—the same patterns, the same races repeated over and over. But now with someone else in the mix, the competition felt real. It was exhilarating. She wondered if Castor, who had been alone at Ponsit all summer, felt the same about having her and Rovi to compete with.
These thoughts distracted her, and Pretia fell behind the boys. Rovi had picked up his pace, and Castor stayed with him. Pretia would have to scramble if she was going to catch them. They were pulling ahead of her.
But she had no intention of letting them win. She was just going to let them think that victory was theirs.
Rovi and Castor were now a whole turn ahead of her.
