Two more elves were at large in Vancouver, but thankfully they'd been keeping a low profile while I faced the most daunting task of my twenty-seven years — planning and executing my wedding. I was dealing with a disgruntled grandmother with an extensive guest wish list of the magically inclined, all of whom didn't particularly like each other. Plus a fiance whose concept of time was altered whenever he stepped into a dimensional pocket, and a best friend who'd spent months planning what was certain to be an insane bachelorette party. How was I supposed to find time to worry about possible invasions, or the motley crew of magical misfits who had unrepentantly upended my peaceful existence?

Not that I was complaining.

Who didn't love wielding deadly weapons, opening a bakery, and marrying their soul mate in the same week? Or was that just my sort of thing?