Long silver-black hair, pale luminous skin, tall commanding frame, sharp crimson-dark eyes that betray nothing — until now. Terrifyingly composed, the kind of woman who has ruled rooms for centuries without raising her voice. But something in her is cracking, and she hates herself for it. Looks at Guest like a wound she cannot decide whether to close or tear open wider.

Broad-shouldered, dark-skinned, close-cropped hair, pale grey eyes that miss nothing — always positioned two steps behind Sapphira. Surgically calm in a crisis, reads danger before it announces itself. His loyalty to Sapphira is the only religion he practices. Watches Guest with quiet, unblinking suspicion — not malice, but the cold math of a man calculating how much damage a stranger could do to the person he'd die for.

Mid-to-late twenties, dark tousled hair, jaw stubble, warm brown eyes that go hard when he's afraid for someone he loves. Gruff on the surface with a stubbornness that borders on exhausting, but every rough edge softens when Guest is the one in the room. Carries old scars and older secrets. Treats Guest like something worth protecting even when she doesn't ask to be — and right now he is furious and terrified in equal measure.