power; The weight of crown.

Khloe lay in her chambers, a blanket draped over her as she rested against the plush pillows of her grand bed. The events of the past days weighed heavily on her, but the anger and grief over Dean's death, the betrayal by her father, and the looming threat of Cullen's magic continued to burn within her, leaving her no peace.

Her body ached, bruised and sore from her birth aftermath. The stillness in the air was stifling, almost suffocating, as she stared up at the ceiling, her breath shallow and ragged. The sting of the wounds between her legs was a constant reminder of the cost of her actions, of the path she had chosen to walk.

"Prepare my bath," Khloe said weakly, her voice barely a whisper, her tone commanding nonetheless. The words slipped from her lips with a quiet authority, despite her frailty.

Olivia, standing at the foot of the bed, hesitated, concern filling her eyes as she glanced at Khloe's pale face. She could see the pain etched into her features, the strain that came with the weight of the crown, the burden of her decisions. But the dead look in Khloe's eyes—the quiet determination that had replaced her usual spark—made Olivia swallow her protests.

Without a word, she moved swiftly, heading for the large marble bathtub by the window, its delicate silver handles reflecting the dim light that filtered through the curtains.

The water was prepared, infused with herbs that would soothe Khloe's aching body, and the steam rose in thick, fragrant clouds. Olivia helped her mistress out of bed, the movement slow and careful as Khloe winced at every touch. She stepped into the bath, the warm water causing a sharp jolt of discomfort in her lower body, but the heat soon brought some relief to the tension and pain. She closed her eyes, letting the moment of tranquility wash over her, even if only for a fleeting time.

After a while, Olivia helped her out, wrapping her in a soft towel and gently helping her dress in a simple, yet elegant gown. Despite her exhaustion, Khloe's resolve never wavered. She could feel the weight of her role bearing down on her, and the only way to find solace was through action, through reclaiming what was rightfully hers.

Once dressed, she turned to Olivia, who was still concerned, her face filled with worry.

"I'm going to the courtroom," Khloe announced firmly, her voice unwavering.

Olivia's eyes widened in protest. "Your Majesty, you can't possibly go in your condition. You're still recovering—"

"I'll manage," Khloe interrupted coldly, her gaze sharp and unwavering. "I need to see the files. Especially those of the ministers of finance. I need to know what's been happening in this kingdom."

Olivia opened her mouth to argue, but she stopped herself. She knew there would be no changing Khloe's mind. Not now, not after everything that had happened. The look in her eyes—so filled with determination and fury—left no room for negotiation. Olivia only nodded, reluctantly accepting the inevitability of the moment.

Khloe stood, gripping the back of a chair for support as she made her way to the door. She walked with purpose, though her steps were slow and measured. As she passed the corridor toward the royal courtroom, the air seemed to thicken around her, the silence oppressive. The kingdom was hers to rule, but she was no longer the frightened princess she had been. The death of her father had changed everything. The death of Dean had made her realize her power, her purpose. No one would stand in her way.

When she finally arrived at the grand doors of the courtroom, she took a breath and pushed them open. Her gaze immediately fell upon Cullen, seated on the throne, the silver crown atop his head catching the light. He was reading through royal journals, his posture relaxed and calm, a stark contrast to the storm that brewed inside Khloe.

Cullen glanced up from the journals, his gaze locking with hers. A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he observed her entrance, her cold demeanor, the fire still burning in her eyes.

"You've returned," Cullen said, his voice oozing with mock politeness. "How predictable."

Khloe didn't flinch, didn't react to the condescending tone in his voice. She strode forward, her eyes narrowing as she crossed the distance between them.

"Stop," she commanded, her voice cutting through the room like a knife. "Put the journals down, Cullen or should I call you his Majesty. This is not your court."

Cullen's smirk faltered, his brows furrowing. "Is that so? I am the king now, Khloe. By blood and marriage."

She met his gaze head-on, unyielding. "You may be king, Cullen," she said, her voice growing icy. "But I am the rightful heir to this throne. My father left the kingdom to me—to rule it. You're nothing more than a puppet, a tool of convenience. You may sit on the throne, but you will never control the kingdom. I will not allow it."

Cullen scoffed, leaning back in the throne, his fingers tapping the armrest with casual indifference. "And what do you intend to do about it? You're still just a child, a gullible little girl trying to play at being a queen. You can't even manage your own emotions, let alone your kingdom."

Khloe's lips curled into a tight, bitter smile, her eyes cold as ice. "I will rid this kingdom of corruption, Cullen. I will restore it to what it was meant to be." She motioned to the royal secretary standing to the side, Jason, and to Olivia, who had followed her in. "Clear the petitions. I have work to do."

The royal secretary nodded, his eyes flicking to Cullen briefly, before walking forward to begin the task. Khloe stood tall, her posture regal, her voice unwavering as she addressed Cullen once more.

"I will not let you interfere with my people's welfare," Khloe said, her tone colder than ever. "This kingdom will be rebuilt under my reign. A reign that will see justice done. You can sit on the throne for as long as you like, but you will never control my people."

Cullen's snort of derision echoed in the large hall, his arrogance as evident as ever. "When will you stop acting like a fool? When will you stop pretending you're fit to rule? You're just a girl, Khloe. Nothing more."

Khloe didn't flinch, her resolve as unyielding as iron. "I'll stop when I've cleaned this kingdom of the filth that has infected it. And trust me, Cullen, I will. You'll see. I'll make sure of it."

She turned away from him, her steps echoing in the silence that followed her exit. Olivia, Jason, and the royal secretary quickly moved to clear the courtroom, the tension palpable in the air.

As Khloe walked down the corridor, her mind was ablaze with thoughts of what needed to be done. The kingdom, once a beacon of power and prosperity, had become nothing more than a shell of what it had been. She had the power, the will, and the resolve to restore it. But first, she needed to rid it of its enemies—starting with the ministers and anyone who dared to stand in her way.

The road ahead was long and fraught with danger, but she would walk it with unwavering determination. She had nothing left to lose, and no one could stop her now.