“Mira.”
Everything is hazy. Flynn is shoving his father back and calling my name.
I see it happen, but it’s as though everyone around me is moving through honey.
“Remira.” Through the fog of my mind, Kaidren kneels before me. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Blood spurts from my nose, making speaking difficult.
“Let me—” Kaidren reaches to touch me, and the world sharpens.
His hands are bare.
Panicked, I jerk back. “I’m fine.” My addled brain is working now. I’m in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by people who are all staring at me. Flynn has shoved his father away, and a few other Honorate are guiding him out as he flails belligerently.
Flynn comes to my side, hand outstretched. “Mira, are you—”
“I’mfine,” I repeat for a third time. I seize his hand and haul myself up. Keeping my hands pressed to my face, I rush outof the room. Whispers follow me. Someone calls my name. I don’t turn to see who.
I flee into the nearest washroom, breaths shallow as I slam the door behind me. My bloody gloves stain the wood red, so I peel them off.
Before I can bolt the door, it crashes open. I stagger back as Kaidren swoops into the room. His deep eyes are agitated as they look me over. “That’s a lot of blood.”
Did he come here to check on me?
I’m surprised and more flattered than I should be. My gloves are already ruined, so I use them as handkerchiefs and pack them against my bleeding nose. “It looks worse than it is.” My words are muffled and nasally. “Go back to the ball.”
He acts as though I haven’t spoken. “Tilt your head back.”
I’m confused, until I reluctantly do as he says—just to shut him up—and feel immediate release. My nose is still throbbing, but with less burning pressure, it’s easier to breathe.
“Better?” he murmurs.
“You don’t have to stay.”
“If you think for one second I’m going to leave you here, you’ve lost your mind. Now, stop trying to get rid of me and tell me if you’re feeling better.”
“Much.” I cast a glance around the washroom. “Can you bolt the door?” I doubt anyone will enter, but it will at least put some distance between us.
It works for about two seconds. He locks the door and immediately returns to my side. I keep my head tilted but press as far away from him as I can in this small space.
“This might work better than your gloves.” Kaidren raises a wad of gray fabric to my face.
“I can do it.” Clumsily, I snatch it and hold it to my nose myself. It’s only after the light gray material is drenched in myblood that I realize he’s given me his shirt, and is now wearing his jacket over his bare torso.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “It’s ruined.”
He chuckles. “It’s a shirt. I’ll live. How are you?”
“Fine.” I close my eyes, head still tipped back. “I just need a minute.”
“Of course.”
For two minutes, we don’t speak. I lower the shirt and cautiously tip my head to its normal position. There’s a faint dribble of red that I wipe away, but for the most part, the bleeding’s stopped.
“Thank you.” I ball up the bloody shirt and do my best to look anywhere but at him. With his unbuttoned jacket, bare chest, and bloodied knuckles, he looks a bit wild. And undeniably attractive.
My throat is dry as I force my gaze away from his exposed torso. “Why are you here?”
