Her hair had grown longer, and had been carefully cut by Renoux’s stylist so that it fell around her ears, curling just slightly. She no longer looked quite so scrawny in the mirror, despite her lengthy sickness; regular meals had filled her out. I’m becoming… Vin paused. She didn’t know what she was becoming. Certainly not a noblewoman. Noblewomen didn’t get annoyed when they couldn’t go out stalking at night. Yet, she wasn’t really Vin the urchin anymore. She was… Mistborn.
