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Summary
"We accept," Clarke says as she looks into the eyes of Cheimonas, steel in her voice, back ramrod straight, Bellamy by her side. She will not be intimidated.
Surprise flickers behind the beautiful woman’s green eyes before she can control it, a look of respect soon taking over. "We are glad. Antigone will show you and the rest of your people to your quarters for the night. The ritual will take place tomorrow at sundown," says the Ice Queen, as if she’s not propositioning Clarke for sex, but a huge, great honor instead.
