The Ruby Kiss by Helen Scott Taylor

in surprise, recovering just in time to scramble over the rope of leafy greenery trimming the dais. Four dark-haired guards fell into formation behind her and formed a barrier to keep the crowd away from the throne.
    Triumph pulsed through Ruby as she bent, resting her hands on her thighs to catch her breath. The greenery along the edge of the dais burst into life, sending creepers spiraling toward her like green snakes, while holly berries swelled and reddened. Her magic definitely worked here. She just wished she could control it.
    The huge gray wolf rose to its feet, a growl vibrating in its throat. “Blimey O’Reilly,” Ruby whispered. The wolf looked a lot bigger close up.
    She backed toward the throne. “See, I can look after myself,” she said with bravado. Although the Whips had protected her, she had definitely beaten Twister at his own game.
    The Unseelie king’s lupine ears were ragged, while his facial scars were scores in the gray fur on his muzzle and cheeks. In a sudden flash of insight, Ruby realized the injuries must have been inflicted when he was in canine form. The wolf’s lips drew back, revealing a vicious set of pointed teeth. He’d been so angry when he brought her here; she prayed she was right in assuming he wouldn’t harm her.
    Ruby’s tired legs faltered, so she grabbed the twisted branches of the throne to steady herself. A strange rushing sound filled her ears, and her vision blurred. She blinked, but it took forever to lower her eyelids and raise them again. The next time she opened her eyes, the wolf had gone and Twister stood in its place. The menacing glow had faded from his eyes and confusion flashed across his face.
    He extended a hand, mouthing words she couldn’t hear. Leaves burgeoned on the ancient twisted branches of his throne. Streamers of energy danced across the throne from her hand. Bunches of white buds sprang forth and blossomed, covering the seat in drifts of fragrant white flowers.
I’d love to paint this,
Ruby thought. Then darkness circled her vision and she collapsed to the floor.
    * * *
    Nightshade had spent an hour wandering the cold moorland outside the Bunker talking with Devin, and now dawn lightened the sky. His hurt had faded to a dull ache, and he realized he’d overreacted. Ruby’s rejection had reopened old wounds from his youth, when the Cornish piskies had tried to drive him away because they didn’t want a vampire in their midst.
    Devin departed to take care of his harem, and Nightshade made his way back to Twister’s study. He expected to find Ruby asleep on the sofa, but the ticking and whirring of the king’s perpetual motion devices played to an empty room.
    Nightshade’s muscles tensed with concern, so he shrugged his shoulders to loosen them. Twister must have given Ruby a room for the night—but Nightshade still wanted to see her to assure himself she was okay. He left the study and headed back to the main corridor.
    “Where will I find the king?” Nightshade asked as one of the brownies that worked for Twister hurried past.
    The small thin creature glanced over its shoulder. “Try the Assembly Room. Follow this corridor as far as you can and pass through the door at the end.”
    Nightshade strode in the direction indicated, his heart picking up speed. Although he had no reason to suspect Ruby was in trouble here, apprehension still nipped at him. When the arched wooden doorway came into view, his breath hissed out in relief.
    He pushed open the door and stepped through, noticing the release of pressure as he left the Bunker’s magical warding. The cavernous room in front of him contained unoccupied tables and chairs. Tankards, cards, and counters littered the tables as though the place had been vacated hastily. A few individuals huddled against the far wall in shadow.
    Nightshade swung his gaze to the opposite end of the hall where four men with whips stood in line guarding Twister’s throne. The cyclops who’d been at the