9. Jules
Jules
The private Halo meeting room feels smaller than usual with all four of us crowded around the table. Kaia sits rigid beside me, Remy is already dissecting every word Blaire says, and Mina hasn’t stopped watching me since the rehearsal.
The incident has been contained. The footage is locked down, the crew handled, and the Council is investigating the ward failure.
None of that makes the room feel any less tense.
Blaire keeps the explanation direct. The things targeting Eon are called Mouthpieces.
The attacks are increasing, and the Council believes whatever happened at Harbor’s Edge put me at the center of the pattern.
Taking me off the world tour isn’t an option, which apparently leaves one proposed solution.
A magical bond, and a very public marriage, with Camille Hart.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. Blaire keeps talking about compatibility reports, protective resonance, and public strategy, which only makes the whole thing sound more absurd.
“No.” I don’t even let her finish the sentence. “No. Absolutely not.”
The room is too quiet for how loud that feels, but I don’t care. I shove back from the table and start pacing because if I sit still, this might begin to feel real, and I refuse to let that happen.
“Kaia is literally right there,” I add, pointing at her like this is a perfectly reasonable solution. “She’s the responsible one. She should be getting married first.”
Kaia doesn’t blink. “I have a girlfriend.”
“Exactly. You’re already good at commitment.”
“That’s not how this works,” Blaire says.
“It should be,” I shoot back immediately. “That feels like a much better system.”
Blaire doesn’t smile. Neither does anyone else.
“This isn’t about preference,” she says. “And the marriage is secondary. The Council’s priority is the bond.”
“Oh, great. So the marriage is just a fun little bonus nightmare.”
“The bond would reinforce your magical signature and make it harder for a Mouthpiece to align itself with you again.”
Again.
The word sinks its teeth in before I can dodge it.
I keep moving.
“And the Council is sure about this?” Remy asks. “Not theoretically. Not historically. For Jules.”
“They’re as sure as they can be without activating the bond,” Blaire says.
“So not sure,” I translate.
Blaire looks at me. “Sure enough to recommend it before the tour.”
“Recommend.” I laugh again, but there’s less humor in it this time. “That’s generous wording.”
Mina hasn’t said anything since Blaire started explaining. She sits with both hands curled around the edge of her chair, eyes fixed on me like she’s trying to make sure I’m still entirely here.
I hate that more than the proposal.
I hate that she has a reason to look at me that way.
“This would keep it from happening again?” she asks quietly.
Blaire’s expression softens. “It would significantly reduce the risk.”
“Significantly isn’t completely,” Kaia says.
“No,” Blaire agrees. “Nothing is completely.”
I stop at the far end of the table. “Then take me off the tour.”
Every head turns toward me.
The words surprise me too, mostly because I don’t even mean them.
The tour is ours. Months of rehearsals, years of building toward stages big enough to swallow us whole. ECLIPSE RUN is the largest thing we’ve ever done, and I designed half the movement around the way the four of us fit together.
Blaire’s face tightens. “You know that isn’t a simple option.”
“Seems simpler than a wedding.”
“You’re essential to the show,” Kaia says.
I look at her. “That sounded suspiciously like corporate language.”
“It’s also true.”
“The entire thing is built around all four of us,” Remy says.
“We need you,” Mina adds before she actually stands up to face me. “You’d really let us do the tour without you?”
The worst thing about Mina is that she says things gently enough that arguing makes you feel like a monster.
“No, of course not. That’s not what I’m doing…”
Blaire waits until the silence settles before continuing. “Removing you from the tour would not necessarily remove the risk. The Council believes Harbor’s Edge may have marked your magical signature. Less visibility might make you harder to reach, but it would not make you safe.”
“So my options are demon bait in private or demon bait with excellent arena lighting.”
“Your option is protection.”
“With Camille Hart.”
“Yes.”
I drag both hands through my hair. “Why her?”
“The Council tested everyone scheduled to travel with the tour. Magical compatibility is specific. It isn’t based on personality, affection, or existing relationships.”
“Good,” I say. “Because personality would’ve ruled her out immediately.”
Kaia gives me a look.
“What? You were there. She basically called me interference.”
Blaire folds her hands on the table. “Camille has the highest bond compatibility.”
“Highest by how much?”
A beat, then Blaire says, “Enough that there wasn’t a viable second option.”
Of course there wasn’t.
Of course the universe looked at the woman I decided to make miserable and said, Perfect. Marry her.
I resume pacing.
“I’m supposed to be the eternal charming heartbreaker,” I say, gesturing at myself. “That’s my brand. I flirt, I never emotionally commit. People love that for me.”
“You’re not being asked to emotionally commit,” Blaire says.
“Oh, perfect. Right. It’s just a fake marriage reinforced by ancient magic and enforced proximity. That’s so much healthier.”
“It would be temporary.”
I stop and slowly, I turn toward her. “Define temporary.”
“One to two years. Then the Council reevaluates the threat and the bond can be dissolved if it is no longer necessary.”
I stare at her. “One to two years?!”
“Yes.”
“So I get demon-targeted, possessed during rehearsal, married to a human iceberg, and divorced before thirty.” I nod slowly. “Amazing. Finally, a relatable celebrity scandal.”
No one laughs.
I point around the room. “You’re all being extremely unsupportive right now.”
Mina looks close to tears, which kills the joke on impact. I drop my hand.
Blaire watches me carefully. “I told them you would receive the full proposal. Nothing should be signed tonight.”
“Should?”
Her jaw tightens. “The Council considers this a security measure. They may not treat your agreement as optional in the way I think they should.”
There it is. The thing beneath all the careful language.
I look at her. “So this meeting isn’t you asking.”
“I am telling you what they’re proposing before they put a contract in front of you.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“No,” she says quietly. “It isn’t. Camille did not have much of a choice either.”
The anger in my chest shifts. It’s still there, but now it has nowhere clean to land. Blaire looks furious too. Not at me. At the walls, the Council, the whole machine we’ve spent years feeding because it kept us alive while also making sure we never forgot who owned the doors.
Remy finally speaks. “You wanted her to play your game.” She meets my gaze without blinking. “You wanted to charm her and get under her skin. Now’s your chance.”
I stare at her.
Mina makes a small, horrified noise. Kaia closes her eyes like she’s asking some higher power for patience.
“Ugh.” I drag a hand down my face. “I hate that you remembered that.”
“I remember everything.”
“Terrible quality in a friend.”
“You said you were going to make her like you and then ruin her life.”
Blaire looks between us. “You said what?”
She looks severely disappointed in me.
“It was aspirational.”
“It was not,” Remy says.
I point at her. “You are contributing nothing useful.”
“I disagree.”
I pace once more, then drop back into my chair hard enough to make it scrape.
Camille Hart. Ice-blue eyes. Platinum hair. Cream-colored suits. The woman who looked me in the face after I was nearly possessed and decided I didn’t belong in the conversation about my own body.
And now she’s supposed to be my wife.
I lean back and stare at the ceiling. “This is insane.”
“Yes,” Kaia says.
“Deeply unethical.”
“Yes,” Blaire says.
“Potentially humiliating.”
“Almost certainly,” Remy adds.
I glare at her. “Thank you.”
Mina moves closer and rests her hand over mine. “But it might keep you safe.”
That’s the one argument I can’t turn into a punch line, especially since Mina is saying it. I look down at our hands.
I exhale through my nose.
“Fine. But if Camille Hart thinks this means she gets to control me, she’s about to have the worst year of her life.”
I glance toward the closed door and picture Camille on the other side of the Tower, probably color-coding the marriage contract.
***
Blaire leaves the way she does everything: clean, efficient, no room for argument.
Then it’s just us, and the air shifts immediately. Less controlled. More real.
“Well,” I say, staring at the ceiling. “That was a fun new nightmare I didn’t have before.”
“Jules.” Mina’s voice is soft. Careful.
I don’t look at her. “Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
“Thriving. Living my best fake-married life already.”
Silence.
I roll my head toward her. She’s watching me, of course, concern written all over her face. It immediately makes me feel guilty. I’m supposed to be the carefree one. The fun one. Not the reason my best friend looks like she’s carrying something heavy.
I push a grin at her. “Relax, Moonbeam. I’m fine.”
She doesn’t buy it.
Kaia steps in. “This keeps you safe.”
I look at her. Really look at her. “Does it?”
It comes out quieter than everything else, and I immediately want it back. It sounds too much like something real, something I don’t want to touch.
No one answers. Of course they don’t.
So I laugh, quick and bright, and sit up again. “I mean, obviously I’m incredible. If I were a demon, I’d also be obsessed with me.”
Mina doesn’t smile, which is honestly offensive at this point.
“Still,” I say, softer, “why me?”
The room goes still. Kaia’s jaw tightens. Remy looks away. Mina looks like she’s about to say something, but I don’t give her the chance.
I clap my hands once and push out of the chair. “It’s fine. I’ll just seduce my way through it.”
Remy’s mouth twitches. “You tried that.”