Elves had died. The fact that trolls and traffickers had died in greater numbers had not been enough for forgiveness. The elves liaising with the Squad had warned their human counterparts of the trouble to come.

  “They’ll want a leader,” the elven commander had said, “a human leader, preferably a uniformed officer.”

  “But they can’t,” the captain had protested. “We can’t.”

  “You must.”

  The captain had glared at him, and the uniformed human leaders who’d been in command of the raid waited. Marriage? Seriously?

  “And what if we don’t?”

  It was the first time any of us had seen an elf go pale, the very first time an elven commander had shown open uncertainty by exchanging glances with his lieutenants, the first time a lieutenant had almost spoken out of turn. Almost. The lieutenant in question had licked his lips, and then pressed them firmly together, as his commander had turned back to face the human captain.

  “If you do not,” he had said, and hesitated. “If you do not, then there will be war. They will slaughter every human they encounter, until amends are made.”

  “But it was not our fault,” the captain had protested. “We were trying to rescue them.”

  “And you failed.” The words had fallen like a death knell.

  “But we tried.”

  “And because of your intervention, those people are dead.”

  “They would have died even if we had not intervened.”

  “Yes, but then the blood debt would have fallen on the traffickers and the trolls.”

  “That’s insane!”

  “That is elvish law.”

  “That those who offer aid are held to blame if anything goes wrong?”

  “That those who intervene, when they have not been asked, are held to blame for the outcome of their interference.”

  “But they didn’t even know their people were being held. Hell! Even we did not know their people were being held!”

  “That doesn’t matter. It was your intervention that caused their people to die.”

  “Indirectly!”

  “Yes, we know, but these are the laws of the Otherworld.”

  “We aren’t in the Otherworld.”

  “No, but there are those who remember when you were subject to it. An alliance is the only way to move that understanding forward.”

  “But…we can’t!”

  The elf commander had shrugged.

  “A war would do just as well to establish that the rules have changed.”

  “But a war…” the captain had almost choked on the words, tried again. “A war…”

  “A war would destroy what has been achieved so far,” the elven commander had replied, “And it would end any hope of peaceful interaction between our worlds. The doorways cannot be closed, again. You would be left fighting more than trolls.”

  “And you?”

  There had been pity in the elf’s eyes.

  “We would be forced to choose sides. Neither of our people are known for differentiating between which members of a hostile species are friend, and which are foe. Regardless of what our leaders said, the situation would degenerate into a war between mundane and myth.”

  The captain’s next words had shown he’d been thinking of his family.

  “My daughter?”

  “Would find no place, either in our world or your own.”

  There had been silence after that. The captain was not the only one who’d married beyond the veil, not the only one to have a child with someone who had never been human. The elf commander had let that silence stretch, given his human counterparts time to think on just how high the stakes were. When next he’d spoken, his voice had been surprisingly gentle.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “The choice is yours, captain—no one else knows just how close to the brink we stand. We felt it would be…unproductive to refer it higher, counter-productive to have it opened to the public debate it would become.”

  He’d waited, again letting us follow the words, and realize just how bad the situation would become, once the politicians, the media, and the public got a hold of it. I’d found my mind already racing ahead, couldn’t stop the words that tumbled from my mouth, and couldn’t retract them, no matter how much I’d wanted to try.

  “It has to be me.”

  My face had heated, as I’d realized what I’d said, out loud, in front of my colleagues and my captain. The elves, damn them, had looked horribly amused. The captain, clearly, was not.

  “Are you volunteering?” His voice had been deceptively soft, a warning to think.

  “No,” I’d said. “I’m not ready for a wedding, but look…” and I’d turned to point at my fellow-lieutenants.

  “The leader of these elves is a guy, right?” I’d cast a look back at the elven contingent.

  They’d nodded.

  “And he likes girls, right?”

  More nods.

  “So that means all the guys are in the clear.” I’d waved my hands in a shooing motion. “Take a step back, guys; you can’t help us here.”

  And that had made the problem, and its solution, obvious. Policing was still heavy on the testosterone, and girls rarely led raids. Those of us who’d made it to the front of a team, even in the Squad, were few and far between.

  I’d pointed at the stocky, dark-haired woman to my right.

  “You can’t have Amaline,” I’d said. “She’s already taken, and bigamy is still illegal here.”

  Ammy had held up her left hand, and wriggled her fingers, flashing a hard grin, as she flashed her wedding ring. I hadn’t needed to tell her to take a step back to join the guys.

  “And I’m gonna assume that this prince would prefer his bride not to have any significant others,” I’d continued.

  There were more nods, and I’d waved Toni back to the guys—which left me standing, all too alone, in the front.

  I hadn’t needed to mention just how unfair it would be to expect Toni to give up her beloved Louise for a male of any species. This came down to just how attached you were, and not just a gender preference. Lucky me.

  “Well, damn,” I’d said.

  I’d caught the captain’s eye, as I’d squared up to the elf commander.

  “And I’m guessing the ones demanding this alliance don’t care what either this prince, or I, actually want to do, do they?”

  Again, the elves had exchanged glances. I’d pressed the point.

  “I mean, I’m thinking he hasn’t been asked what he’d prefer, has he?”

  More head shakes.

  I’d folded my arms across my chest.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I’d said.

  The captain had given a deep and sorrowful sigh, and come to stand beside me. I’d shifted out from under his arm, before he could drape it across my shoulders. He’d let it fall to his side, before speaking.

  “No one is going to order you,” he’d said. “No one.”

  Considering what was at stake for his family, that response had almost brought me to tears. I’d fought them back, denying the prickling at the edges of my eyes to become anything more.

  “Can I have some time?” I’d asked, meeting the elven commander’s eyes.

  For once, he’d looked sympathetic—and we’d butted heads aplenty. This time, he’d broken eye contact first, and bowed his head.

  “They will allow you until dusk tomorrow,” he’d said, then added. “I will try for more, but…”

  And, now, I’d seen him at a loss for words. Another first. Well, hadn’t we just broken some ground, that night?

  “I’m going home,” I’d said. “And I don’t want company.”

  That last had been delivered with enough of a growl that the meaning was clear. I would make up my own mind, in my own time, and woe betide anyone who dared try and keep me company while I did it. It really was a good thing I didn’t have anyone in my life.

  The fact that I’d wanted to keep it that way for a good while longer, and to find and choose my own partner, when I was damned well good and ready, hadn’t seemed to cross anyone’s mind. The only question was: How willing was I to embroil the rest of humanity in an eternal war in order to keep that choice?

  And I knew the answer. I just hadn’t wanted to give it. Not then—and not really even now.

  It hadn’t helped that the doc had rocked up on my doorstep in the wee small hours of the morning, with half a dozen pixies showing him the way. The discussion we’d had had been short and to the point. He’d thought I’d been making a pot of tea, when I’d done a runner in the car.

  Damned trolls.

  And that brought me back to this cavern, the doc, those damned pixies, and that even more thrice-damned elf. I glared at him, but, if he felt anything—annoyance, amusement, whatever—he didn’t let it show.

  “There is no more time,” he said. “My people demand your reply.”

  This time, I broke eye contact first.

  “Fine,” I said, lowering my gaze to the blanket covering my lap.

  “I beg your pardon? I don’t understand,” he replied, and anger flashed through me.

  I raised my head and glared at him.

  “I said ‘Fine’,” I said. “It means I’ll do it. I’ll marry your prince to keep the peace.”

  Somehow, I got it out before my voice cracked. Try as I might, I could not stop the first tears from sliding down my face. I sniffed, blinked, and stared up at the distant ceiling, willing them to stop. When had the glow worms started to shine again?

  Movement brought my gaze back to the elf. This time, he came to kneel beside my makeshift bed. He took my hand, and raised it carefully to his lips, before looking into my face.

  “Then I welcome a princess-in-waiting to the court,” he said.

  “How long?” I asked, and puzzlement crossed his face.

  “How long?”

  “Before the…the wedding,” I managed.

  His face cleared, and he managed a smile.

  “It will be between you and the prince as to how long your courtship lasts,” he said. “The fact of the betrothal will keep the peace—for now.”

  He paused, rising slowly to his feet.

  “I would suggest you wed inside the month, to make sure that peace lasts, but his Highness…”

  It was the first inkling I had that the elven prince might not have been as keen on the marriage as the rest of his folk. The elf lord was moving away, even as he spoke, and I wanted to call him back, to make him explain. He didn’t quite give me a chance.

  “I’ll send someone to move you to more suitable quarters,” he said, and I wondered if I’d have made it out of the cave at all, if I hadn’t agreed.

  He gave me no time to dwell on it, though, his words floating back to me as he stepped through what had seemed another solid wall of rock.

  “No doubt his Highness will meet you there.”

  “I won’t hold my breath,” I muttered, watching him disappear.

  Men, be they princes or otherwise, were notoriously good at avoiding things they didn’t want to do—and that suited me, just fine. I wondered if I’d be allowed to go back to work, while ‘his Highness’ made up his mind.