The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis
Chapter 58: The Trap Was Set

Chapter 58: The Trap Was Set

The performances wore on like over-steeped tea—bitter, slow, and far too drawn out.

One girl after another rose to their feet to try and show off to any potential husbands... or mothers-in-law. The first girl to arrive in the center of the hall after me didn’t stand a chance. She recited a poem about blood and battles, but it was clear that she had never experienced either one. I guess she was trying to marry into a military household or something.

Seriously, it just went downhill from there. Another girl offered a trembling flute piece, her fingers fluttering like they weren’t attached to nerves, the song more of a warble than anything recognizable.

One of the younger court ladies attempted a ribbon dance and nearly wrapped herself like a dumpling in her own silks. The poetry recitations were worse. Too long, too sentimental, too desperate for a reaction.

All around the hall, polite applause echoed in hollow claps. The smiles were practiced. The compliments thinner than mist as everyone tried to suck up to their nearest neighbor.

And Zhao Meiling?

She had returned to her seat beside her father and sat there with her back straight and her expression carved from still water, watching everything as though it were all happening precisely as she had planned.

She also made a point not to look at me. Not once.

However, she didn’t have to in order to let me know that her entire being was focused on me.

Her wine cup rested between her hands—porcelain white, rim barely stained from the untouched liquid. Her fingers were curled too tightly around it for such a delicate performance. Her shoulders were a little too set. Her face was a little too smooth.

It was the stillness that gave her away.

Zhao Meiling was never still. She preened. She glowed. She radiated need like a flower begging the sun to look her way. Tonight, she was perfect—poised, polished, controlled.

Which meant she was unraveling.

Good. It annoyed me to see her so calm and in control.

I lifted my own cup and inhaled gently as the rim passed beneath my nose. The scent came soft at first, almost pleasant—floral, sweet, and familiar. But beneath that sweetness was something metallic, like rusted coins resting under water. Not poison meant for killing. No, that would be crude. This one was subtle, elegant. Crafted to induce disorientation, dizziness, maybe even a fainting spell if consumed with wine or on an empty stomach.

A poison designed to humiliate, not eliminate.

Amateur.

Zhao Meiling was trying to turn me into the evening’s punchline. A scandal. A pale-faced bride who couldn’t hold her cup. A mountain girl who didn’t belong in silk.

The moment I lifted the cup to my lips, it was like the room itself held its breath.

Okay, so maybe only Zhao Meiling was staring at me like I was a worm on a hook, but that didn’t matter. We’d see who was laughing at the end of the day.

I didn’t sip at the poisoned drink. I drank the entire thing.

Because of what I was, poison of any kind didn’t work. I didn’t know if it was because my body healed itself before I could feel the effects of it, or because my own toxic powers simply absorbed whatever hazardous thing entered me. However, no one back home had been able to find a poison that would affect me.

And trust me, they tried.

A quiet clink echoed through the banquet hall as I set the empty wine cup down on the lacquered wood of my table. My fingers lingered on the rim, deliberately slow. The wine was sweetened with plum, just barely spiced, and tainted with something else. Something syrupy and bitter that curled around my tongue like overripe fruit.

It wasn’t until I had consumed it that I knew for sure just what my darling little sister had added to my cup. An aphrodisiac. How... predictable.

I lowered my eyes as if shy, the picture of modesty. What none of them saw was the way my fingers moved beneath the table. Two resting lightly on my lap, the others forming subtle shapes against my sleeve—a signal, a release.

From the shadows around my chair, two ribbons of black mist uncoiled. Thin as thread and invisible to all but the keenest eye, they slithered across the floor, skimming the edges of the banquet like snakes tasting the air.

No one noticed. Not as one tendril slid under Zhao Meiling’s silk skirts, curling around her ankle, then seeping deep into her skin like ink through parchment. The other slipped behind the row of wine servers until it found Zhu Lianhua’s cup. He lifted it, toasted someone with that ever-so-perfect smile, and drank.

That was all it took. And while my own particular brand of poison might be slow acting, there was never any cure for it.

I allowed my smile to widen, just a fraction, before I wiped everything off my face. Letting out a soft moan like I was in pain, I gently pressed two fingers to my temple as if I had a headache or something. Ever so smoothly, I started swaying in my seat, my head moving around like it was almost too heavy to keep straight.

Or too light to keep attached.

I didn’t have to put on a big show, I didn’t have to make it known to the entire court that I wasn’t feeling well. Zhao Meiling was looking at me now, and that was enough.

Deming shifted beside me, his eyes narrowing on my face as his half mask blocked most of his expression. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice low and urgent as he leaned toward me.

"You’ve gone pale," added Zhu Mingyu, not bothering to hide the concern threading through his voice as he, too, turned to study me.

I blinked slowly, tilting my head. "I think I need a moment." My voice came out soft, breathy, the very image of a young bride too delicate for court life. "Just a place to lie down for a little while. I’m sure I’ll be fine."

I didn’t wait for permission.

I stood carefully, swaying just enough to make a few hands twitch toward me. Deming was already half-rising from his seat, but Shi Yaozu moved faster.

Like a shadow peeling itself from the corner, he appeared at my side, quiet and composed. His hand hovered near my back, ready to steady me, but never quite touching.

"Make sure she’s protected," Zhu Mingyu said, his tone low and edged with steel. "No one lays a hand on her," he continued, addressing Shi Yaozu.

Shi Yaozu inclined his head once. "Understood."

I let him lead me out.

Behind me, the music resumed, and more professional dancers were called to entertain everyone. Laughter rose like incense. The nobles believed the scene had passed, that the bride had been overwhelmed, that all would now continue in peace.

They had no idea the first domino had already fallen.

They didn’t need to worry about being entertained by dancers; a much more interesting play was about to unfold.