Ilonka looks younger than eighteen, with a round-cheeked face, clear skin, and an almost schoolgirl softness that clashes with the watchful stillness in her eyes. Her bronzed skin carries a warm copper undertone, deepened by weeks beneath open skies. Her black hair is divided into many narrow braids, each tied near the end with russet thread, though the braid over her right shoulder has been polished smooth by constant handling. She stands with her weight on the balls of her feet rather than her heels, as if ready to step between danger and someone smaller. Her movements are economical and trained, but when she turns quickly, the fine gold chain at her collar gives a nervous little chime. The unexpected contradiction is that her hands are immaculate and soft-looking, with carefully trimmed nails, yet her shield rim is battered and her sword grip is worn almost white from use. She leaves behind the impression of a sheltered noble child who has somehow become the most reliable person in a frightened room.