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

Deming was waiting in the corridor when I returned from the east wing. His arms were folded in front of him, his back was straight, as if the stones themselves needed discipline.

And there was a very pissed off look on his face when I came to a stop in front of him.

"You brought him inside the palace," he said. It wasn't a question, and he didn't have to even give a name to the 'he' he was talking about.

I adjusted the sleeve over my wrist. "He put himself inside. I just gave the court a reason not to scream and for Mingyu to accept."

His jaw was set, that iron line he wore whenever he wanted to argue but knew he'd lose. "Longzi isn't Yizhen. He doesn't melt into walls. He doesn't smile his way out of notice. He brings an army's weight with him even when he's stripped to plain cloth."

"That's exactly why Mingyu needs him," I replied, brushing past him and continuing on my way. I knew that he would follow behind me. I didn't doubt it for a moment. "The Emperor is parchment and ink, no matter how well he might be able to swing a sword or kill a man. He doesn't see blades until they're at his ribs. Yaozu can't guard two doors at once. Someone had to be given the post."

"And it had to be him?"

I paused at the end of the hall, turning just enough to let my eyes rest on him. "If I wanted a man who bowed first and thought later, I would have chosen someone from the Department of War or the Department of Punishments. Sun Longzi knows how to survive when rules burn. That's what Mingyu needs. He needs someone to protect him, no matter what."

Deming's silence was heavier than any argument. He fell into step beside me anyway like I knew he would. And that was his answer.

Inside the private hall, Lin Wei was curled on a pallet with Shadow's flank against his legs, breathing even, mouth sticky with the remnants of chestnut sugar. Yizhen lounged near the brazier, his sleeves loose, hair tied with silk that wasn't his.

Lin Wei had finally detached himself, and I couldn't help but smile as I looked down at the little boy.

"Your newest ornament has already taken vows," he drawled as moved closer to Lin Wei. "Captain of the Emperor's guard. How very noble. I should bring incense to celebrate."

"Bring vinegar," Deming muttered.

Yizhen's eyes glinted. "What's the matter, Second Prince? Afraid a real soldier might step on your parade ground?"

I let the words roll past. "Mingyu will be safer tonight than he has ever been. That's what matters."

"And when Longzi decides guarding parchment isn't enough?" Yizhen countered. "Men who live by the spear don't suddenly learn how to breathe like courtiers. They choke."

"Then he will choke quietly," I replied, my face void of emotion. I knew it was risky. But I had to protect my husband.

That earned me a low chuckle, but his eyes didn't soften. He knew as well as I did what it meant to invite a wolf into halls built for doves.

Yaozu slipped in without sound, a cup in his hand. He set it by my elbow, steam curling from the rim. Jasmine again. He didn't look at the others, only at me. "The household knows," he murmured.

"Of course they do," I answered. "Servants see faster than ministers. By dawn the laundries will be whispering that Sun Longzi sleeps under our roof."

Yaozu inclined his head once, no judgment in it, only fact. "Some will call it strength. Some will call it madness. Either way, it will spread."

"Let it," I said, sipping the tea. "If the palace spends its breath talking about who guards the Emperor, they'll have less left for wondering who guards me."

Deming crouched near Lin Wei, checking the boy's shoulders as if muscle tension were a battlefield. His voice stayed low, but it carried. "I don't like him here."

"You don't have to like it," I told him. "You only have to be smart enough not to waste time sulking."

He looked up then, and for a moment there was more than iron in his gaze—something like hurt, something he'd never put into words. I ignored it. Affection was a luxury I couldn't afford in front of the others.

Mingyu arrived not long after, his robes plain, his expression carefully neutral. He didn't speak until the chamber was emptied of servants. "It's done," he told me.

"I know," I replied.

"They'll call me a fool for allowing it."

"They already called you worse when you married me," I reminded him.

That brought a ghost of a smile, brief as a candle flicker. Then he sobered. "You moved the board again. One day I will wake and find the palace rebuilt under my feet without ever lifting a brush."

"Better under your feet than on top of you," I answered.

He sank into the chair opposite me, hands folded. "Do you trust him?"

"No," I admitted. "But I don't need to. I only need him to do his task. He can worship or hate me, it doesn't matter. What matters is that when someone tries for you, he bleeds before you do."

Mingyu nodded, slow. "And when Lady Huai finds her voice?"

"She already has," I said. "By tomorrow she'll be shouting in the music gardens. Let her. She's nothing without the string his mother tied around his wrist. When that string breaks, she'll be as powerless as a servant with no household."

Mingyu considered that, then exhaled. "Very well. Captain of the guard he is."

The conversation ended there, but the tension did not.

Later, when the chamber had emptied, Yaozu lingered by the door. "He'll test you," he warned quietly.

"Of course he will," I answered. "So will you. So will Deming. So will every man in this room. That's the price of choosing men who think instead of ones who only kneel."

"And if he thinks himself into your bed?" Yaozu asked, his voice flat.

I smiled then, thin and sharp. "Then he will learn that thinking and daring are two different things. There are two men in my bed at the moment, he will have to go through them to get to me. Won't they?"

Shadow stirred at Lin Wei's feet, muzzle lifting, as if even the hound understood the edge in my voice.