Past lives were supposed to be abstract. Theoretical. The kind of thing mages debated over wine and Hyran referenced in lectures nobody asked for. Gavriel Sterling watched himself and thought: that kid is going to be a problem.
The scene shifted.
King Atlas set his pen down and exhaled, realizing he had already lost this one three days ago.
"You should be aware that I have reached zero decisions regarding the girl. Do keep your expectations measured."
Tristan grinned. "Measured. Absolutely. Is she getting the room next to mine or across the hall? I have opinions on both."
Atlas looked up. "I said measured, Tristan."
"I heard you, Father. I am measuring. The room across the hall has better light, but the room next to mine has the advantage of proximity, which is important because she had a nightmare last night and Lucian and I handled it, but it would have been faster if she was closer."
"You handled a nightmare."
