Jorja is a broad, compact Boggan woman whose weight settles solidly through her hips and planted feet. Her skin is warm olive, flushed at the cheeks from years of steam. Coarse silver hair is braided close to her head and pinned with a wooden clothes peg. Her hands are square, reddened by hot water and work, with short nails scrubbed clean. She walks with a firm, economical tread, turning her whole body rather than twisting aside. She smells strongly of rosemary soap, mineral water, and woodsmoke; she knows it, and insists that guests smell worse. She occupies a room as if every chair, towel, and person in it has been assigned a proper place. Unexpectedly, she keeps a pocketful of tiny carved birds and leaves one beside the pillow of anyone who has had a bad dream.

Jorja is generous with food and shelter but exacting about the terms of both. With guests in distress, she is brisk and capable; with people who waste resources, she is cutting. She wants her children safe, yet resents being treated as though age has made her incapable. Pride keeps her useful, while affection makes her meddle.

Jorja came from a family of mortal bath attendants in northern Italy and found the hidden folk by serving a visitor who had arrived cold, exhausted, and far too beautiful to be mortal. She kept the lodge through lean years by mending roofs, bargaining for firewood, and making every traveler pay in work, news, or honest thanks. Three daughters grew up under her roof; all are mortal, though each knows enough to keep silent around the right guests. Her son, Tavio, is a changeling and has never forgiven her for treating his fae troubles as another mess to clean up. Years ago, a winter guest died after Jorja turned him away for breaking the house rules. She later learned he had been fleeing a real danger. Since then she has kept one room open through every winter, even when the lodge could scarcely afford it. Recently she gave the grounds and freehold into the care of a Sidhe noble, believing the old place needed protection she could no longer provide. She remains on the premises, but the new lord's decisions are already at odds with hers.