Nadim al-Sabah is a river elf with blue skin the color of deep floodwater under moonlight, marked by necrotic burns that look like black frost spreading across his collarbones, ribs, and forearms. His hair was once ink-black but is now bone white, not silky but brittle-looking, as if each strand had been bleached by grave dust. He is tall and narrow, with a reed-thin frame that moves in sharp, irritated angles, like a man forever reaching for a tool that is not where he left it. His left hand is permanently stained with reagent burns and ink, while his right hand trembles only when he is angry or trying not to be. He dresses like a scholar who expects a workshop fire at any moment: layered gray-black robes, a leather apron full of glass loops and brass clasps, and a high collar that partly hides an old throat scar. The most unexpected thing about him is the delicacy of his face. For all his cruelty, his features are almost courtly and beautiful, with long lashes, elegant ears, and a mouth that might have been kind in another life.