Joss

If Cairn has a heartbeat, it sounds a lot like Joss Kale laughing at his own joke. Youngest son of the family that runs the town’s inn, he grew up underfoot in a kitchen that feeds three nations’ worth of travelers, and it shows: he can talk to anyone, charm most of them, and has been turned down by Selena enough times to constitute a local calendar. He considers each rejection a temporary setback. The town considers it free entertainment.

Don’t let the grin fool you. Joss has trained beside Win since they were boys, and the guards who bet on their morning spars will tell you the loud one hits like a falling shelf. He fights the way he talks — constantly — needling, joking, tilting an opponent off balance one chirp at a time, and then cashing in the opening with genuine skill. He’s strong where Win is fast, and exactly as good as he tells you he is, which is the most annoying thing about him.

Beneath all the noise is something simpler and harder to find: a person with no doubt about who he is or whose side he’s on. Joss chose his best friend a long time ago, the way you choose family, and he has never once looked back over his shoulder to check the math. Where Win goes, Joss is already there, usually narrating.