DRAGONA

I didn't even get all the way through the door before my mother started.

"Elira." Her voice carried across the hall, too soft to ignore. "You could try being kinder to Aurelia. She's under a lot of pressure too."

I didn't bother turning around. "I don't have to."

"You don't have to be cruel, either," she said gently.

I clenched my jaw, still staring at the polished tile. My reflection looked back at me, all perfect angles and hard edges. "She isn't nice to me either, Mom. We don't like each other. That's just it. Why do I have to be the nice one?"

"Elira—"

"Mom, just let it go." I lifted my chin and met her eyes. "The competition is coming and I am going to win. Being nice to my rival won't help me out there."

Her expression softened. "I just want you to be happy. Keeping old grudges will only make things harder."

"There's no grudges, Mom. I—I'm really tired. I'm going to sleep early tonight. Goodnight."

Before she could reply, I turned on my heel and climbed the stairs, each step sharp with the effort not to look back.

In my room, I locked the door behind me and exhaled shakily. The sunlight slanting through the window landed on my desk, on the neat rows of brushes and powders and books I hadn't touched in weeks.

I needed to do something with my hands.

I spread my palms, feeling that familiar tingle as the air shimmered in front of me. The first clone took shape quickly, a replica of me. I began to tweak her features.

I darkened her hair, shortened it, changed her clothes. Then I did it again, shifting the clone's height, making the chin more pointed, the shoulders narrower.

The third time, I didn't even have to think. The shape settled into something I knew too well: dark brown curls, a lean frame, the suggestion of gold in the eyes that weren't even real.

Aurelia.

I stared at her—at it—heart beating too fast. It wasn't perfect. It never was. I could get the likeness almost right, but there was always something missing—something alive that made her real.

A knock broke through the hush. I startled, the clone flickering.

"Elira?"

I swallowed, pressing my lips together. "I'm busy."

The door opened anyway. My mother stepped in, her gaze landing first on me, then on the clone.

"Elira, is that…?"

"It's not what you think," I lied, too quickly. "It just…happened. It could've been anyone."

Her eyes softened with something I couldn't stand to see—pity. "You know this isn't healthy."

"I know." My throat felt tight. "But it doesn't work like that. I can only make people I see all the time. Sometimes it looks like you." I tried to laugh it off.

"You can learn," she said quietly. "You should try. You don't have to make Aurelia of all people. And if she found out, I don't think she would be thrilled. You can make me, or your replicas. But not her. Don't forget who she is. She will one day become queen."

I let the clone dissolve into smoke. For a moment, neither of us spoke.

When I finally looked up, she was still watching me.

"You have training tomorrow. Maybe it's time to go to bed," she said.

The training fields behind the palace were already alive with noise by the time we arrived. Rows of targets glinted in the morning sun, and racks of weapons lined the fences.

Archery. Fencing. Sword drills. All the normal things. Only here, nothing stayed normal for long.

We were allowed, encouraged even, to use our powers. To find ways to make the old arts new.

Aurelia was already there, stringing her bow with that calm, unbothered expression. She didn't even need her fire to be better than everyone else, but she used it anyway, lighting the arrowhead until it glowed white-hot before releasing it. The target ignited in a burst of flame.

Aric looked lighter than I'd seen him in weeks. He didn't need a spark to be good with a sword. He was all precision, moving easily through the forms while other students watched him with thinly veiled jealousy.

I summoned two clones to flank me as I stepped into the archery field. We ran around in a circle until no one could tell which one was me. Then we all pointed our arrows at the same target. Mine went in first, hitting right in the middle. The other two followed, but only one landed on the board. I looked at Aurelia, to see her reaction. She was looking at me too, but it was for a split second—and then she was shooting five arrows at once that went up, turned around, and landed perfectly in the middle of five boards. One board for each arrow.

When the whistle blew, my clones moved with me, and we moved to the sparring field ready to dominate.

Around us, other students tested their gifts. A girl with silver hair bent light around herself until she vanished completely. A boy shot arrows that split into three in midair. Another student whispered something that made the grass grow up around her opponent's ankles.

Even here, even now, I was aware of the way people watched us the three of us.

I told myself it didn't matter. That I didn't care what they thought.

But when Aurelia's next flaming arrow struck dead center, a small, hungry part of me still wanted to prove I could burn brighter