Clarisse returned to her quarters with what you would call a heavy heart. Had Lord Vincent been right, she wondered. She pondered on the conversation they had as they passed the ruins of Bridgeiron. He had referred to her as his sacrifice. A term he felt guilty confessing. Clarisse did not know why that particular moment haunted her but it did. She had pulled the hands of fate to ensure that she was the one chosen to herald the assassination of Evan Dupre but the King was the only person Clarisse held grievances against. His family she would like to think was innocent. As she inched closer to her room, Clarisse imagined how such a scenario would play out. When it came time to do what she was here for. Could she bring herself to kill the Queen and her sons in a single night? It wasn't just
