The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis
Chapter 91: Back To The Cage

Chapter 91: Back To The Cage

Returning to the Crown Prince’s manor felt like stepping back into a too-small cage after flying in open skies. Shi Yaozu and I had been met by a carriage and a group of guards when we were half way back to the manor.

I honestly thought they were for someone else. After all, I was still riding the exact same horse that I had left the manor in. But I guess that doesn’t matter. I was told I had to be in the carriage, and that was the end of it.

Reputations had to upheld, after all.

The carriage creaked as it passed through the palace gates, its wheels cutting ruts in the perfectly raked gravel. Shi Yaozu sat across from me, unreadable as always, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his blade. Shadow wasn’t far—he didn’t ride in carriages, of course. He loped beside us, silent, eyes glowing like coals beneath his ink-black fur. Most of the guards pretended not to see him.

Most of them pretended not to see me, either.

The sky was clear, the kind of crisp morning blue that made it impossible to forget how much blood had been spilled just days before. But the capital didn’t know. Or maybe they didn’t want to know.

According to official reports, the southern threat had been exaggerated. A minor skirmish. Nothing more. A lucky bout of weather. Maybe a plague. They’d already begun burning the corpses before the first messengers returned to the court. Whatever had happened down there... well, it certainly wasn’t worth rewriting the Empire’s understanding of warfare over.

And definitely not worth acknowledging that their Crown Princess might have had something to do with it.

Because if they did, they’d have to admit the Emperor handed the future of Daiyu to a woman he still believed to be a discarded bandit’s whore.

And that, apparently, would be more terrifying than war itself.

I stared out the window at the white stone walls and manicured courtyards. The birds were chirping. Servants swept fallen petals from the path. The whole world here was still turning, blissfully unaware of what had just been buried in the dirt far to the south.

My fingers curled in my lap.

"Home again," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.

"Is it?" Yaozu asked, not unkindly.

I didn’t answer. Because no, of course it wasn’t.

The manor’s gates opened at our approach. I stepped out first, dusting off my robe. My outer layer was a soft shade of sage, chosen specifically to dull the darker stains beneath. My sleeves were long. My hands clean. My face, I knew, was unreadable.

Several servants bowed awkwardly.

They didn’t speak, but I caught the hesitation in their eyes, the shift in their weight, the way one of the girls flinched when Shadow passed her by. They hadn’t expected me to return. Or if they had, they’d expected me to come back broken. Shameful. Dragged behind a cart or bound in ropes.

Instead, I walked in with my head high, calm as ever.

Too calm, I guess, which also wasn’t acceptable.

The Crown Prince wasn’t waiting. Of course he wasn’t. I hadn’t announced my return, and he was far too busy managing affairs of state—or at least pretending to.

Lady Yuan, however, was waiting.

She stood near the inner gate, draped in ivory and pale gold, a handmaid shading her from the sun. Her expression was polite, cold, and painfully tight at the corners. One hand rested delicately on her slightly rounded belly. She was farther along than I remembered.

Interesting.

"Crown Princess," she said, offering a shallow bow.

I returned the gesture, just enough to be polite.

"Lady Yuan."

"I heard you’d been sent south," she said lightly, as if commenting on the weather. "There were rumors. Some rather alarming."

"There always are," I replied, brushing past her with a pleasant smile.

She didn’t move to stop me, but her eyes followed my every step. I felt them on the back of my neck, lingering like a mosquito. I didn’t bother acknowledging it. She could whisper all she liked.

Let them guess.

Let them wonder.

They didn’t deserve answers.

Shi Yaozu trailed behind me as I entered the residence. Servants scurried out of our way, but not as quickly as before. The fear was there, but not the awe. Not yet. They’d all been told I was weak. That

I had been taken as a bandit bride. That I’d been handed over to the Crown Prince as a punishment wrapped in silk.

And that was still the narrative they clung to. Even after my little display after the wedding night. Even after I killed the last steward who tried to mess with me.

But they were innocent, right? Ignorant even. No one had told them what I’d done on the field, so why on earth would I expect them to treat me with any type of respect?

All my hard work establishing my self in this manor was gone because I decided to protect what was mine.

It was fine.

I had no intention of correcting them at this moment. I would have to come up with something bigger than killing a servant. So big that they would remember me even in their next life.

My rooms were untouched, but I noticed the layers of dust on the table. No one had expected me back. I ran a finger along the surface and raised a brow.

"I’ll see to it," Yaozu said, already moving toward the servant’s hall. He knew the layout better than I did by now. He didn’t ask if he should handle it. He just did.

And I was thankful.

I wandered into the garden next. The koi pond shimmered in the light, reeds swaying gently at the edge. I crouched beside the stone path and plucked a stray weed from between the tiles.

Normalcy. It felt almost ridiculous.

And yet, it was needed.

This place didn’t need a warrior. It needed a mistress of the household. One who knew how many grains of rice were missing from the week’s tally. One who ensured the concubines remembered their place without raising her voice. One who could slice a throat as easily as a peach, but chose to let it rot instead.

It was all politics now.

"Crown Princess?" a tentative voice called from behind.

I turned.

A young maid—Jia, if I remembered correctly. She trembled slightly as she bowed, her tray balanced in both hands. Tea.

"Thank you," I said, taking the cup.

She seemed to relax just slightly, as if she hadn’t been sure I still had a tongue in my head—or that I wouldn’t turn her into smoke.

I sipped slowly. Bitter. Not my usual blend. Another thing to fix.

"Send word that I’ve returned," I said, not looking at her. "Let the Crown Prince know. And tell the steward I want the garden staff replaced."

"Y-Yes, Your Highness."

She fled, sandals slapping against the stone.

I sighed and leaned back against the curved railing of the bridge.

It would begin again soon. The whispers. The poison in teacups. The poorly veiled insults and the passive-aggressive etiquette battles. They would test me, prod me, try to remind me that I was only here by accident.

They didn’t know they were poking at something much older. Much deeper. Much less inclined to tolerate being underestimated.

And honestly? I welcomed it.

Let them try.

I’d already killed a hundred thousand men without breaking a nail.

This palace would be much easier to handle.