Page 250 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

That was definitely not a tac suit.

I was wearing someone else’s silky cami and a pair of cute boyshorts—and were my boobs bigger?

What. The. Fuck.

Had my biceps gotten more defined, or had I lost my mind?

And Jesus—were those my quads?

Blinking, comprehension hit me like a slap. I bolted from the bed and sprinted to the windows, clapping a hand over my mouth as I stared out at Paladin’s Middle Realm.

Oh. Holy. Shit.

I twisted, stretched, squinted.

“Why the fuck am I still small?” I barked, scowling at the same damned perspective I’d always had. Nothing had changed. Or…everything had?

Big nap. Big, healer-induced ascension nap. And oh my God—that asshole shot me. What the fuck. What the actual fuck?

A sting on my scalp made me realize I was about to rip my hair out—I was already tearing my fingers through it like a madwoman.

I spun around when someone knocked on the door, reaching instinctively for weapons that weren’t there as the massive black double doors creaked open.

“Freya?” asked a familiar husky voice, careful and soft—as if Calypso-fucking-Stuart was tiptoeing inside her own castle.

“Um. Present,” I blurted like a total imbecile.

“Oh, thank the Saints—you scared us to death.”

Hah. What?

The Paladin princess stepped inside, shutting the door with a gentle click. Her smile was sweeter than I deserved, and her steps slow, measured. She stopped near the end of the bed, leaving plenty of space between us. Not nervous. Just…respectful.

“Where…I’m sorry, but where’s Cyrus?” I asked.

“You’re probably freaking out,” she said with a grimace, easing down onto the mattress.

“Uh…yeah. A little,” I admitted. Where were my weapons? I promised Alvara I’d bring back her dirk. Alvara—what the hell was wrong with that woman?! She let me get shot?!

“Understandable,” Cali said. “Jo was here until a few minutes ago, but they needed her Earthbound to attend to something. I hope you don’t mind me covering for her. He doesn’t want you alone…for obvious reasons.”

Sure. Understandable. The feral demon who tore his life to bits probably shouldn’t be left unsupervised.

My thoughts snagged on Jo.

Jo, the nimble-fingered healer—soon-to-be consort to Calypso—who dug that goddamned reaper bullet out of my chest with metal tools of death.

“Oh, this is so fucked.”

“Everything kinda hittin’ at once, darlin’?” Calypso asked, voice gentle.

“You could say that,” I breathed, a hand flying to cover my mouth. I turned and paced toward the window, bare feet sinking into the most luxurious golden rug I’d ever touched. Of all the hierarchy realms I’d seen, this one was the most beautiful. Cascading fountains. An ornate rose garden maze. The healing baths…

Oh.

Images flickered behind my eyes. Cyrus lowering me into some copper pool of goo—healing salve, my clearer mind now corrected. Bit by bit, the pieces clicked into place, and dread sank into my stomach like a stone.

Calypso, furious, barking orders.