The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis

The court dispersed slowly.

Not with relief, not with murmured plans for wine or women, but with the kind of silence that suggested thoughts too heavy for words. That was the kind of silence I preferred.

The kind that stuck.

The Empress left first, her sleeves trailing after her like banners in a slow retreat. Yaozu stayed behind, clearing the scrolls with silent efficiency, stacking them into a lacquered case with such care it almost looked like reverence.

Sun Longzi lingered in the doorway a beat longer. He hadn't spoken all night, not even when the younger lords cast him sideways glances as if expecting him to interject. He didn't.

He only looked at me once—when I made the promise not to die.

And when he left, he nodded.

Just once.

It was the closest thing to allegiance I was going to get from him, and I accepted it for what it was: steel in silence.

When the room finally emptied, I didn't move.

Didn't speak.

Just watched the wax pool around the base of the candles and the faint trail of steam curl off the untouched wine.

Yaozu broke the quiet first. "You didn't ask them to fight."

"No," I said. "I gave them the right to choose."

His fingers paused over the case. "That's dangerous."

"It's honest."

He said nothing to that, but his jaw tightened.

"You don't agree?" I asked, shifting my gaze to him.

"I think choice is a luxury," he replied. "And luxuries get people killed."

I leaned my arms against the table and let out a slow breath. "So does force."

His gaze flicked to mine. "Only when applied poorly."

I laughed once—quiet and tired. "I'm not interested in becoming another tyrant, Yaozu. That's not the legacy I want. Hell, I don't even want the crown. I can't wait until Mingyu finishes with his top secret stuff so that I can hand everything over to him."

"You think you'll have a choice? I mean, between who rules?"

That stopped me.

I tilted my head. "You don't believe in choice? Do you think that these men would allow a woman to sit on the throne?"

He walked slowly around the table and stopped beside me, his height casting a long shadow across the inked map. "I believe in consequences. And I believe people lie to themselves about which choices are real."

My brow rose. "And what about me?"

"You made your choice twelve years ago, Zhao Xinying. When you built a house in the mountains. When you didn't run from the hounds or the soldiers. When you stepped into a palace knowing it would try to swallow you whole." He leaned slightly closer. "Everything after that has been you living with it."

I didn't argue.

Because he was right.

That choice had already been made. And I had never once regretted it. But I was allowed, wasn't I, to feel tired?

I rose from the table, pushing my chair back with barely a sound. "I want to see the river again before nightfall."

"You won't make it before curfew."

I turned to him. "Then walk with me until I do."

He didn't answer right away.

But he did grab his coat.

—

We didn't go far—just to the southern overlook, where the path broke off and ran down through a grove of willows. The light was fading fast, pale gold thinning into the barest blush of winter dusk.

My boots crunched over frost-covered leaves, the world around me finally, blessedly quiet again.

"I hate courts," I muttered.

"I know."

"I hate the way they look at me. Like I'm the wolf who dressed herself up as a lamb."

"You never wore wool well."

I snorted. "No. I suppose not."

Shadow moved ahead, silent as ever. I didn't stop him. The truth was, I needed the quiet almost as much as I needed the air.

The path leveled out along a bank of shallow stone. The river was barely a whisper tonight. Thin, brittle. More shadow than sound.

I stepped to the edge and crouched, dipping my fingers into the water.

It burned. But I didn't pull back.

"You don't flinch from pain," Yaozu said from behind me.

"I grew up with it. Most of us did."

"You still feel it, though."

"Of course," I said, flexing my fingers in the cold. "What do you think I am?"

He stepped forward, close enough that I could feel his presence even without turning.

"I think you're trying very hard not to become what they say you are."

I straightened slowly. "I'm not fighting it for them. I'm fighting it for me."

He nodded. "Then let me ask this."

I glanced over my shoulder.

"If the only way to end this war was to become everything they fear… would you?"

The question settled between us like frost.

Slow. Quiet. Deadly.

I looked back out at the river, the pale streak of it reflecting the last scrap of light from the sky.

"I'd rather burn the world than become what they expect," I said finally. "But I'm not so noble that I'd let you, Deming, or even Mingyu die to save my name. So yes, Yaozu. If that's what it takes, I'll become a monster. But I'll do it on my terms. Not theirs."

He stepped up beside me.

"You'd still be you."

"No," I whispered. "That version of me would be something else entirely. And I hope I never have to meet her."

There was a long silence.

Then Yaozu said quietly, "If you ever do, I'll still stand beside you."

I turned to him.

He didn't flinch. Didn't smile. Just said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You don't even like monsters."

"I like you," he said. "Even when you're sharp. Even when you're tired. Even when you're cruel."

"I'm never cruel without reason."

"Exactly."

The last of the light slipped behind the hills.

I stepped away from the water and brushed my hands off on my cloak. "Come on. Before the guards think I've gone rogue."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"No," I admitted, "but it might be the last."

As we turned back up the path, I glanced over my shoulder once—just once—and saw a shadow move at the edge of the far bank.

Not a person.

Not a scout.

Just a piece of silk.

Green.

Draped in the brambles like a whisper.

I stopped.

Yaozu noticed instantly. "What is it?"

I didn't answer.

Just stared at it.

A warning. A dare. A promise.

"You're not alone," he said beside me.

And this time, I let him take my hand.

I didn't say thank you.

I didn't say anything.

But my fingers curled around his anyway, and together, we walked back into the dark.