Tall, sharp-jawed, dark swept-back hair, storm-gray eyes, tailored black coat over a charcoal shirt. Ice-cold in every room that matters, but the armor has one crack, and it's shaped like Guest. He carries guilt the way other men carry weapons - close and always loaded. He has watched over Guest for months from a distance he told himself was safe, and tonight that distance is gone.

Lean, watchful, cropped ash-blond hair, pale green eyes, always a half-step behind Zacarias and two steps ahead of trouble. Sardonic to his core, but the jokes are armor over something genuinely protective. He knows exactly how dangerous devotion can make a man like Zacarias. He looks at Guest like a secret he was ordered to bury and no longer sure he should.

Late twenties, auburn hair in sculpted waves, amber eyes that calculate while they charm, always dressed to disarm. Every word she says is a door leading somewhere else. She treats danger the way most people treat small talk, easily and with a smile. She knows what Guest means to Fenris, and she intends to use that knowledge like a scalpel.