Amy's reunion with her mother the following day was short-lived. Calill was scheduled to ascend the Tower, but the girl's anxiety was quickly diminished when discovering Stefan would not be joining them.

"Someone has to protect the people out here," he said, as Amy's tiny hand gripped his thumb.

He wouldn't permit Amy to watch the group enter the Tower. Stefan hiked her up on his hip, giving Calill a small nod as he walked away from its light. Amy wiggled her head against his clavicle, softly whimpering.

Even though battle thrilled him, he was relieved for the break. Reborn soldiers were always a surprise attack, but the army was organized to keep watch in shifts. With both Calill and Ranulf in the Tower, Amy had become his responsibility alone. Perhaps the army wouldn't notice if he didn't take his shift.

Amy was keeping herself occupied with Stefan's hair. It was slightly matted with sweat from war, but it didn't stop her from mussing it. She giggled each time she patted his head and let go, spreading her arms wide, as Stefan's hair sprang up wildly about his head.

"It's so shiny!" she said, pressing her forehead against his.

He smirked, ducked away from her, and flipped one of her pigtails.

"Hey," she said, suddenly solemn, as she plopped into his lap. "What's that?" Her index finger was pressed against his forehead.

Stefan was sitting cross-legged, and Amy wriggled herself in the space where his calves intersected. With their faces so close, her query came as no surprise. He wasn't alarmed; he hoped she would notice. "Go ahead," he said. "You can see it."

Timidly, Amy pushed his hair back. She tilted her head, staring at his forehead, and firmly pressed the Brand over and over again with the tip of her finger. "I have one of those, too," she said. "Though mine's a little different. Wanna see?"

Before he could reply, she pushed up her sleeve. The Brand could be on any area of the body; he had certainly seen his fair share in more private areas. He thanked Ashera—That's a first! he thought with a chuckle—that this child's was only on her shoulder.

She watched Stefan place a hand on her shoulder, tentatively at first, but then he traced the lines of her Brand. It made her giggle. She was right; they were similar. Could she be lion-blooded as well?

"It's beautiful," he said, his voice low.

When he turned away from it, Amy let her sleeve fall. "Mommy and daddy said I shouldn't show anyone, because some people don't like it. But you like it, right? Because you have one too?"

Stefan squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing the pain that rose in his throat. Do I like it? he thought. He loved it. He loved it and he hated it. But when he looked at Amy again, he couldn't help but smile.

"Yes," he said, finally. "Of course. But your mom and dad are right. You shouldn't show others. I'm safe," he said, brushing aside his fringe. "But you should be careful of other people."

"Why?" She gathered the ends of his coat to wrap around herself. "Why wouldn't they like it?"

He looked down at her, running a finger down the part in her hair, partially as a distraction. "People who don't have one can be mean to you. They don't like things they don't understand. Be careful, Amy. There aren't many who have what you and I do."

"But what is it?" she asked, releasing his coat to roll up her sleeve again. She craned her neck to stare at her shoulder. "I won't tell anyone, I promise."

Amy wasn't looking at him; she was engrossed in the mark on her shoulder. Was this his responsibility? But who else would tell her? He engulfing her head with his big hand—she yelped in delight—and kissed her forehead. "It's called a Brand."

Amy understood surprisingly well, not that Stefan went into much detail. He had little desire to explain how laguz and beorc blood mixed, but she seemed satisfied enough knowing that his ancestry included a lion.

"That's so neat!" she said, bouncing on his thigh. "So are you super strong? Can you roar?"

"I didn't inherit the roaring, unfortunately," he said, with a small smile. "But I think I'm strong." He lifted her with one arm, her stomach balanced on the palm of his hand. She waved her arms and legs wildly, screeching in joy, then grabbed his head when he pretended to drop her. She fell, unhurt, into his lap.

"But I don't get why people don't like it," she said, still fixated on this dislike. Whenever he tried to steer the conversation away from it, she brought her unanswered question back to the forefront.

"I don't know, either," Stefan said, flicking her pigtails. "But for now, it's better that people don't know. It can be our secret."

She craned her neck up, smiling broadly at him. "Okay! I can keep a secret."

Splendid, my dear, he thought, resting his chin on her head.