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

The final feast of the imperial hunt was a vision of opulence and desperation. The fifth and sixth days of the hunt didn't offer anything new.

In fact, this entire week seemed to have been a never-ending Groundhog Day. I think I was almost looking forward to going home tomorrow and dealing with Lady Yuan. She was like a breath of fresh air when compared to these nobles.

And that is saying something.

But back to night's seventh and the final feast.

Silk lanterns dangled from tree branches like hanging fruit, casting flickering shadows over lacquered tables and gold-threaded robes. Musicians plucked soft melodies in the background while nobles chattered with fake ease, all too aware that tonight marked the end of their chance to impress the court and in turn, the Emperor.

I sat beneath the main pavilion, on the second tier. Not at the Emperor's side—that honor belonged to Zhu Mingyu—but close enough to draw glances. My cushion was soft. The food was warm. And the court was restless.

Shi Yaozu stood behind me as always, quiet and watchful.

Zhu Mingyu was only a few seats away, speaking in low tones with an older minister, his head angled but his gaze drifting to me every so often. I didn't look back. I didn't need to. I could feel his gaze... and it was a comforting feeling.

To my other side, Sun Yizhen had vanished…off somewhere chasing rumors or just got distracted by some pretty face. Sun Longzi was drinking with his men, and Zhu Deming was deep in discussion with a general from the southern front.

And across the main path, Princess Yuyan was glowing like a lantern lit from the inside.

She wore soft gold silk, and gossamer, all embroidered with phoenix feathers. Her cheeks were dusted pink, her eyes bright. She was laughing too loudly at something the Third Prince had said—though he didn't seem to be paying her much attention.

In fact, Zhu Lianhua was brooding over his wine, barely responding to anyone.

Interesting.

The moment the toast ended, I felt it—that shift in air pressure, the hush in the silk. Crown Princess Yuyan of Baiguang rose, cup in hand, and made her way across the clearing.

Straight toward me.

The scent hit first. Sweet. Faintly cloying. A medicinal undercurrent masked by jasmine and honey.

She was carrying something in her sleeve. A sachet.

I tilted my head slightly, expression placid.

"May I join you for a moment?" she asked, her voice sugar-soft. "I've been meaning to speak with you."

Without waiting for permission, she sat down beside me on the shared bench, her robes fluttering like wings as she settled into place. I arched an eyebrow as I looked down at her, but I didn't say anything. Instead, I picked up my cup of tea, wishing not for the first time that it was a much stronger drink.

A glass of burbon would be perfect right about now.

Maybe I'll make a wish and bring Aunt Hattie here to liven up everything. Now, wouldn't that be fun?

"I thought I'd bring you something," the Crown Princess continued with a bright smile, lifting the small lacquered cup in her hand. "It's plum wine, from my family's private reserve. A gift between sisters."

I didn't move. I simply studied the cup in her hand, then the slight tension in her wrist as she extended it toward me. Her perfume was working too hard to cover something bitter underneath.

Scented sachet tucked in the sleeve. Backup plan in the cup.

She'd come prepared.

I smiled politely and inclined my head.

"I'm afraid I prefer tea this night now," I said gently, a perfect smile on my face. "But I appreciate the gesture."

Her smile didn't falter, but I saw the flicker behind her lashes.

"Surely just a sip wouldn't hurt," she said, still soft. "It's tradition to share wine on the final night of a hunt. For harmony and prosperity."

"So many traditions," I murmured, folding my hands neatly in my lap. "It's hard to keep track."

She laughed—a little too brightly as her arms started to shake from having them stretched out in front of her.

I turned my head, met her gaze directly. "That sachet smells strong," I said. "Do you have a headache?"

Princess Yuyan blinked, startled for half a second. "It's medicinal," she said smoothly. "For nerves. The hunt's been so intense, I find myself easily rattled."

I nodded thoughtfully. "Understandable. All this posturing must be exhausting."

Her smile faltered for just a moment.

I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice.

"You've worked so hard to be noticed, haven't you?"

She froze.

"The gown. The songs. The toasts. And yet…" I trailed off, letting my gaze flick toward Zhu Mingyu—who hadn't so much as glanced her way all evening.

"I wonder," I continued softly, "how many more costumes you'll try before you realize the role was never yours to play."

Her lips parted slightly, breath catching. "You don't understand," she said tightly. "He was always supposed to—"

"To what?" I asked mildly. "Choose you? Love you? Remember your face from a dream?"

Yuyan stiffened.

"You weren't in his dream," I said. "You were in someone else's book."

The words hung in the air between us—sharp and clean.

And then I stood.

Slow. Controlled.

I didn't insult her. Didn't throw the wine. Didn't expose her sachet or drag her name through the mud.

I simply walked away.

Shi Yaozu moved silently behind me as I slipped past the banquet tables, weaving through laughter and silk and shallow conversation. I didn't need to look back to know that Yuyan was still sitting there—alone now, with two failed plans in her lap and nothing to show for it but the bitter taste of defeat.

She had laid the trap.

But I had seen it coming from the moment she stepped into the light.

And if she thought she was ready to play against me in a game of poison and politics…

She'd better bring something stronger than perfume.

Because I didn't need a wine cup to silence someone.

I just needed them to open their mouth.