The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis
Chapter 47: Decision, Decisions, Decisions

Chapter 47: Decision, Decisions, Decisions

There was a moment—just one—when I thought I might actually get to enjoy a full night of sleep in this cursed palace.

But that would’ve been too kind, wouldn’t it?

The air shifted sometime after the second bell.

I’d already doused the lamps, but I hadn’t gone fully to sleep. My body was still, but my ears were tuned—heartbeat steady, breath slow, one arm loose over the blanket and the other tucked under my pillow.

My fingers rested on the knife hidden beneath it.

I heard him before I saw him.

He was good. I’ll give him that. Not even the floorboards creaked under his steps. But he breathed too hard. It was only for a split second, but it was still long enough to mark something as out of place.

Honestly, though, it was a rookie mistake.

I waited for him to get closer. His element of surprise had already been compromised, but mine wasn’t.

He was already crouched by the bed when I moved. I snapped up, driving my knee into his face before he could strike. The cartilage in his nose cracked, and he stumbled backward, his blade flashing as he recovered quickly.

However, before he could get too close to me, Shi Yaozu was already behind him.

Silent and perfect, his blade was already drawn, ready to end this in a blink.

"Stop," I ordered, my voice coming out harsh. If I wanted to simply kill this man, I would have done it myself. But I needed information. Information that I wouldn’t be getting if Shi Yaozu killed him too fast.

Luckily for all of us, Shi Yaozu froze. The assassin didn’t.

He lunged toward me, desperate to get the killing blow in before he died. And he had to be smart enough to know that he was never going to get out of this room alive after this.

I moved to the side, allowing the blade to cut through the space I just was. Catching his arm, I slammed him onto the floorboards with a snap that sent pain screaming up his shoulder. The knife skittered away into one of the darker corners of the room.

"Shi Yaozu," I said coolly, never taking my eyes off the man writhing beneath me, "if you’re going to be my shadow, you need to obey me without question. You did good right now, but I need to know that you will always react like that."

Shi Yaozu nodded his head stiffly, coming to attention beside me. He wasn’t moving, but I could also appreciate the fact that he wanted to be close enough to stop me from getting hurt. However, this was also part of his lesson.

I was not someone who needed to be protected.

The assassin tried to roll over, to scramble toward the fallen blade, but I put my foot on the back of his neck and pressed down. I had to give him credit for trying to buck me off, and it might have worked if I was a simple girl. But I could take out an elephant on my own with my strength. This man didn’t stand a chance.

"Tell me," I said, almost bored as I pressed down just a bit more with my toes, "was this your first job? Or just the first one you were too dumb to plan properly?"

He grunted, trying to buck me off again. It was clear that he was getting more and more frustrated with the fact that he couldn’t so much as nudge me away.

"Strong," I purred, letting a bit of my lust out. "But not smart."

I drew a thin blade from beneath my sleeping couch—not the short dagger I kept under my pillow, but a longer, curved skinning knife, stolen off a Yelan scout years ago. I had kept it because the handle fit my hand too well to throw it away.

Removing my foot, I crouched beside him, pressing the flat edge against his cheek.

"You’re not a Palace assassin," I said. "They don’t breathe like that. You were hired. Bought. Sent."

He turned his head, trying to spit at me, but it failed spectacularly, dribbling down his chin as he glared at me.

So dramatic.

"Alright," I said with a sigh. "Mom always said that I needed to do things the polite way. I tried it. Now, let’s do this my way."

With a quick flick of my wrists, I sliced the backs of both his ankles in a clean, practiced motion. The cut wasn’t deep enough to sever the tendons, but it was enough to disable him and prevent him from walking away.

He screamed, his voice cutting through the night air.

My face twisted in a sneer as I stuffed one of my silk hair wraps into his mouth.

"Can’t have you waking the whole palace, now can I? I just finished dealing with the wine theft yesterday. I’d hate to be accused of keeping people up with endless screaming. I can just imagine the rumors that the others would come up with."

When he tried to bite down on the fabric, to push it out. I added a second scarf, this time tying it around his head.

Then I rolled him over.

Blood was already soaking through the back of his robes. His eyes were wide, his chest heaving, but I wasn’t done. Not even close.

"You see," I said, retrieving a small metal case from the chest near my wardrobe, "I have a rule about sending messages."

I opened the top of the metal case, revealing a set of small surgical tools. Clean. Sharp. Well-loved. And perfectly constructed, if I did say so myself.

"If someone tries to kill me to send a message, and I don’t understand the message, I punish the messenger," I explained, crouching back down to the floor so I was close enough to the man.

I dragged the tip of the blade along his forearm, slow and deliberate. "Tell me what I want to know," I whispered, "and I’ll let you keep your fingers. Don’t make me ask too many questions, and I might just let you keep your life."

He whimpered, the whites of his eyes shining brightly in the darkness.

"You have two choices," I purred, slicing the cloth from his chest. "Either I send you back to whoever hired you to deliver a message of my own—with something missing, of course—or I let your body be the message."

His eyes screamed at me, a look that would have flayed me alive if it were possible. It was a pity that his mouth couldn’t say a word.

I leaned forward and pressed two fingers to the side of his throat.

Then I pushed.

Not physically. Not with muscle.

With power. With disease.

It snaked into him like warm water turning to ice—slipping under skin, into nerves, forcing his body to respond even as his mind fought.

It started in his lungs. A tightness. Like drowning with no water. Then came the heat—spreading through his arms, curling in his belly, rushing up behind his eyes.

He bucked, trying to get away, but that only made me push harder.

He clawed at the floorboards with bloodied hands, convulsing against the paralysis I’d forced on him.

"Still not talking?" I mused. "That’s fine. I’ve got all the time in the world."

I let up for just a moment. Just long enough to let him remember how good it felt to breathe.

He sobbed through the gag.

"Name," I said, brushing blood from his lip. "Give me a name."

He shook his head.

So I cut off one of his pinky fingers.

Clean. Precise.

He screamed through the gag.

"Name," I said again, my voice impassive as he continued to struggle under me. The smell of blood was starting to become strong. "Go light an incense or something," I instructed Shi Yaozu. "I don’t want the smell of blood getting out until I am good and ready."

When Shi Yaozu walked away to do as I instructed, I cut off the assassin’s second finger.

His mouth was a river of muffled begging.

I knelt beside him, close enough for him to see my eyes.

"If I reach ten," I whispered, "you’ll only have your toes left. And I promise I won’t stop at twenty."

He sobbed again, desperate, wild.

Then, finally, he gestured at me to remove the gag.

"Lady Yuan," he croaked, the second the cloths were removed from his mouth.

I paused. "Did you say... Lady Yuan?"

He nodded frantically.

I smiled.

"Thank you. See, that wasn’t too bad, now was it?" I purred, coming to my feet. Shi Yaozu came to stand beside me, absolutely silent as he stared down at the man I had been happily torturing for the past ten minutes.

"You might want to look away," I advised with a slight smile on my face. "Now, I guess it’s time to see just how well you can keep secrets when your master calls."

Letting out a long breath, I let the mist come.

It curled from my palm like smoke, sweet and soft—apple crumble. Comforting. Deceptive. Both Shi Yaozu and the assassin looked confused at first. The latter almost looked relieved as my toxic power spread out around the room.

I half smiled when I saw his shoulders relaxing, right before the burning started.

It crept into his nose. His ears. His mouth. It melted the skin off his cheeks first, curling it back in thin, black ribbons.

His scream was wet and garbled.

I let it go on for a while.

No one came for him. No one would.

By the time I stopped, there was nothing left but bone.

Clean. Smooth. Gleaming white.

I stood and wiped my hands on a silk cloth.

"Shi Yaozu," I hummed, impressed that he didn’t even flinch as my black mist danced around his feet. "Congrats. You pass." Leaning down, I picked up the skull of the assassin. It was still warm as I cradled it in my hand, completely smooth and devoice of any type of marking.

"Be a dear," I continued, holding it out to Shi Yaozu, "and place this in Lady Yuan’s room for me, would you?"

He took it without hesitation.

"I wouldn’t want her wondering if her money was put to good use or not."

I didn’t watch him leave.

I just sat back down on my bed, blood and all, and fell back asleep.

Tomorrow would bring even more drama, I was sure. But until it came, I was determined to get some much needed rest.

Who knew, maybe I had a bit of sloth in me after all.