A slender, long-limbed young woman with light bronze skin and the poised stillness of someone who measures every room before entering it. Her skin is smooth across the face but faintly roughened at the knuckles and wrists from years of handling reins, ledgers, gate latches, and dusty cargo crates. Many narrow black braids frame her face, each tied with russet thread, and they barely move when she turns because she turns her whole body with deliberate economy. Her dark hazel eyes are flecked with amber and habitually angle toward doors, hands, windows, and stairwells rather than faces. She holds her chin slightly raised, one hip set toward escape. The unexpected contradiction is her immaculate, almost delicate fingertips, which look unsuited to travel until one notices how quickly they count, sort, seal, and point. She leaves an impression of restrained wealth under pressure, like a polished key kept in a dirty pocket.