The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis
Chapter 37: The Night Before the Wedding

Chapter 37: The Night Before the Wedding

The Crown Prince’s estate was a fortress carved from lacquered pride and silent control. Its red walls stood tall beneath the moonlight, crowned with curling black tiles and guarded by stone lions who had seen too much and blinked too little. Inside, the courtyard lanterns burned with a low, unwavering glow, casting long shadows along gravel paths and koi ponds, as if even the light had learned not to speak too loudly here.

Zhao Xinying said nothing as she was escorted down the walkway, her soft-soled shoes making no sound against the polished stone. She didn’t look around, didn’t ask questions. Even though she had never been in a cage, never seen a cage like this... but that didn’t mean she didn’t recognize one when she was in it.

And this one smelled like sandalwood, incense, and fear.

The maid who walked a step behind her bowed more often than she breathed. A young thing, no older than sixteen, with eyes that kept darting to Zhao Xinying’s face and quickly away again as if afraid that too much eye contact might summon lightning. She kept her hands clasped and whispered her instructions like someone afraid of ghosts.

"This will be your residence until the wedding. These quarters were last used by the... previous..."

She trailed off, wisely, and Zhao Xinying didn’t bother to make life difficult for her.

The room they brought her to was tucked into a quieter wing of the estate. It wasn’t part of the inner quarters or close to the Crown Prince’s bedchamber. Here, the air was still, too still. And she wasn’t talking about the slightly musty scent that wafted out when the doors were open. This was the kind of quiet that had to be arranged.

Inside, the furnishings were pristine, almost untouched. Lacquered black wood. Carved screens. A perfectly made bed with gold-threaded embroidery. A dressing table, a silk robe, a basin of warm water scented with crushed lotus petals. Nothing was out of place. Nothing was personal.

There wasn’t even a tea set for her to take a drink or a snack on the table since dinner had long passed.

It wasn’t a room for living.

It was a stage... and one that came with a warning.

One by one, the maids came in. They bathed her without a word, their eyes never quite meeting hers. They scrubbed gently, methodically, like they were tending to a statue in a temple—afraid to worship, more afraid not to.

And she let them.

They dried her hair, combed it smooth, and dressed her in a simple sleeping robe of deep jade. No ornaments. No bridal veil. No bridal anything.

When the last maid adjusted the collar and moved to leave, Xinying finally spoke.

"What’s your name?"

The girl froze. Her fingers trembled when she looked up at the bright blue eyes looking into hers. "Your name," Zhu Xinying repeated gently. "If I scream tonight, what name will I call for someone to come save me?"

The girl’s eyes widened, terrified. She stepped back with a bow so deep it nearly broke her spine before turning around a fleeing.

The door shut behind her, but the smirk on Zhai Xinying’s face didn’t so much as twitch.

She walked to the bed and sat down, brushing her fingers over the silk blanket. Her gaze slid to the door. Then the screen. Then the shadows.

A low huff sounded behind her.

Shadow, the massive black wolf, padded out from behind the screen like a creature risen from ink. He didn’t growl. He didn’t whine. He simply leapt onto the bed, circled once, and placed his heavy head in her lap.

She stroked his ears absentmindedly. "At least one of us is comfortable," she snorted. "But I might as well try to get some sleep. It’s not like I know when our guest is going to show up."

Shifting just enough to be able to rest her head on Shadow’s back even as he happily slept on her lap, she forced herself to relax. Soon enough, her eyes closed, and she was fast asleep.

------

It was sometime past midnight when the assassin came.

He was good, too good for the common killers the harem girls usually feared or hired to take out the competition. This one made no sound and left no trail. The guards had changed shifts not long ago, and the shadowed man used the moment to slit the throat of the soldier standing just beyond her door.

The blade didn’t make a sound. The body dropped without a thud. The entire thing took less than five seconds from start to finish, and it was practically silent.

The assassin caught the body gently, like one might lower a drunk friend to sleep. When he was sure that he wasn’t caught, he let out a soft breath and slid the door open.

The room was just as it should be. Still. Dark. One lantern flickering faintly in the corner.

He stepped inside and turned to shut the door behind him—

When he was satisfied that everything was going the way it should, he turned back to the bed in the center of the room and froze.

The target, a small girl who should have long been asleep, was awake and staring back at him.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, her legs crossed at the knee, she looked like an eternal being in her dark green silk robes. Her hair spilled down her back in soft, slightly curled waves, and she was stroking a black shadow that was resting on her lap.

It took the assassin a moment to realize that the shadow on the bed with her was a massive wolf with violent yellow eyes.

Freezing, the assassin waited for her to speak. And when she did, her voice was lazy, almost bored.

"Oh good," she murmured, brushing a bit of fur from her sleeve. "And here I was, worried no one would come help me relieve some of my stress."

The assassin’s hand hadn’t even reached the hilt at his hip before her eyes lifted to meet his, the shocking blue eyes seemingly stealing a piece of his soul.

There was no fear, no panic. She was acting like she was expecting him, but somehow, some way, he had already disappointed her.

His heart pounded in his chest like a housefly interrupting a late meal.

The wolf growled, low and thunderous, his lips peeling back to expose his teeth; however, he didn’t move otherwise.

Not yet, at least.

Zhao Xinying lifted a finger, scratching behind one of the wolf’s ears.

"I’m curious," she said, tilting her head, "Did the Crown Prince send you, or was this a gift from one of the wives? Or..." Her lips curved slightly. "Was it my father?"

The assassin didn’t move, didn’t react.

She sighed and rose, slowly, deliberately. Her legs slid free of the wolf’s side as she stood. The beast shifted, rising only to pace once behind her. His eyes never left the assassin’s hand.

Zhao Xinying padded forward, her bare feet silent against the floor. "You could run now. I’ll even let you get a head start. Aren’t I nice like that?"

Still, the assassin said nothing.

Then he moved.

Fast. Sharp. A blade at her neck in the blink of an eye.

Only... she wasn’t there.

He turned, confused—only for the wolf to slam into him from behind, sending him crashing into the far wall.

The knife clattered to the floor, but Zhao Xinying didn’t so much as flinch.

She walked over slowly and crouched down beside the man as he struggled to breathe, blood already staining the wood as it poured out of the spot where his right arm was supposed to be.

"You were good," she murmured, almost gently. "Not good enough to kill me. But good enough to get close."

He grunted, his other hand reaching for something at his side.

The wolf pressed a paw down on his ribs, digging its claws into the weak flesh.

"I’d stop moving," Zhao Xinying advised. She stood again, straightening her robe. Her eyes flicked toward the closed door. "Let’s see how long it takes your employer to try again. Hopefully," she added, brushing a speck of blood from her hem, "next time, they send someone who doesn’t underestimate me. Or at least more than a slight snack for my wolf."

She turned back toward the wolf, gesturing with a nod.

He obeyed, stepping off the man and curling once more at the foot of the bed.

Zhao Xinying sat again, graceful and controlled, before curling up around the wolf like it was nothing more than a harmless puppy dog.

The assassin didn’t rise for the rest of the night...

And he never would again.