Kai smiles brightly at me and waves with a hand that shouldn't be there.

My jaw drops as the light catches it, shining off its metallic surface.

They both stand as I enter, and Kaidin strides over to embrace me.

"Kai, what—"

When he pulls out of the hug, he's smiling from ear-to-ear. He flexes the artificial hand, holding it out to me.

"It's amazing, isn't it?"

It is. Made of an articulated, bluish metal, It's surprisingly warm. As I turn it over in my hands I could swear I can feel a gentle pulse beneath the surface, as though his own blood pumps through it."It's...but...how?"

"Rhetrien," he beams, and the name sounds like an exultation on his lips. I look from the hand to the Heir in question, who inclines their head.

"But we just got here last night!"

"It's one of several prototypes I've been working on for, ah—some time now," Rhetrien says. "Mire-based technology. We've been able to make advances again, in the years since our nations opened trade. I wasn't about to let a fellow Heir go without an arm when I happened to have a few extras lying around." They smile over at Kai, and the way he looks back at them is making my brain go fuzzy with envy. My stomach twists, and there's a bittersweet taste on my tongue.

"I've been meaning to thank you, Nikka. Ever since I found out. You saved us, and—" his eyes flash back to the iridescent lock, and he bites his lip before continuing. "And this happened to you because of me. I'm so sorry."

I shake my head, a thousand responses stampeding through it.

You didn't do anything wrong, I failed you! Can't you see that? I was useless when it mattered most. I wasn't able to help until after you'd already been hurt-

"Come on," says Kai, breaking the stream of inner self-flagellation. "All the other Heirs are gathered up on the roof. We came down to let you know."

~*~

What they call the "Roof" of Shkah Toan is actually the tower's top level, covered but open to the air on all sides save for the railing and pillars that hold up the actual roof. Cascading star-vine winds its leafy way through the wrought iron rails. The scent of its flowers mingle with that of the incense that issues lazily from the burners hung on each pillar.

Aside from the guards, everyone here is either draped across dark, velvety cushions or standing together in clusters—laughing, drinking and eating from the platters of delicacies cluttering the low tables. I look around at the mostly unfamiliar faces, trying to guess which are my siblings. I know them all by name alone, as each was fostered in their own mother-nation and far away from me.

My stomach twists when I realize how they're all looking at me. The way their eyes catch on my miremarked lock. The way some of their embers cool in what feels like distrust, unease.

But one of them, a girl who looks close to my age with kind eyes and long, reddish-brown hair, jumps up to greet me.

"Nikessa, welcome!" Hurrying over to me, she grasps my shoulders and kisses me twice on both cheeks. A Solrathi greeting.

"I'm your sister, Prisha. It's so good to finally meet you in person, sivha Nikka."

"Oh!" I breath. We've communicated a few times by letter, and during my parents' visits they'd always spoken of her fondly. It's easy now to understand why. Putting an arm through mine, she guides me gently over to the others, introducing me to each in turn.

Finally I have a face to put to the name for Arjan, my Khej-brother by Maz and Tammeck. He's got his father's dark skin, hard-edged features, and mischievously charming smile.

I even see a bit of myself in Meline, who shares my blood-father but was born to Fabienne of Morovin. She sits just apart from the rest with the other Morovani Heirs. She's friendly enough on the surface as she greets me, but there's something cold about her smile.

Next I meet my blood cousins, and lastly the khej-cousins and those to whom I've no relation. Prisha even introduces me by name to every one of the Kolikai Heirs—who in spite of their nation's long estrangement seem perfectly at home here with the rest of us, resplendent in their jewel-colored robes.

It's to that last group of unrelated Heirs I pay particular attention, jolted by the realization that unless I can get out of this, five will soon be joined to me forever. But for the most part, their embers remain cold towards me, distrust lingering in most of their eyes. Not so the Kolikai, though. They regard me with keen interest.

Kaidin and Rhetrien fall into the natural flow of conversation with everyone else as my introductions are complete, but before too long I'm feeling overwhelmed, even queasy.

I don't really belong here.

I sit on a cushion a bit back from all the others, while Puka wanders about amongst the crowd, soaking up their adoration and accepting offerings of food.

If only things were so easy for me.

~*~

Eventually I slip away from the other Heirs, skulking back to my room to work on the letter to my parents. Begging one last time for disinheritence. I use the bird-hatch to call for a carrier. Then, once I've handed it off, I wait. 

I know there's not a chance I'll get to actually see any of my parents today—not the day before the Revelry. So, I just sit on my balcony, staring out at the view. It's raining steadily, and occasionally the clouds flash and growl with lightning and thunder.

No message ever arrives, but Kai does—to drag me back up to the roof to have dinner with the other Heirs. I bring my sketchbook along and sit far away from them, finally taking the time to draw the Mirebeasts that attacked us on the road. Trying not to keep looking over at Kai and Rhetrien, sitting so close together that their arms rest on one another's legs, overlapping. Prisha tries to get me to mingle, but again, most of the others seem as reluctant to talk to me as I am to them. One notable exception—an Ariskolese Heir with a drool-worthy bonechrys blade looped through her belt—throws me the occassional glance, a spark of interest in her eyes. 

It doesn't help that I can feel their fear and mistrust and other, even more confusing emotions crackling across the web in my direction. I drink more than I should, and leave early. Puka follows, reluctant. When Thrall and I get back to my chambers, a message awaits.

Nikessa,

We haven't changed our minds about your being an Heir, and we won't. Please don't ask again.

All of our love,

J, G, F, T, & M

When I finish reading, I crumple up the letter and toss it into the fireplace. Then I curl up on my bed and try to forget that I'm a person.