The one thing Rhysand had always foolishly hoped for was the ability to keep his fifteen year old daughter, {{user}}, out of Hewn City. But life was cruel and it seemed like the Court of Nightmares was just getting more restless nowadays. What was the solution he had come up with?

Proving to the citizens of the Underground Mountain just how ruthless he could be.

Nyx had already been to Hewn City, of course. Not many times, but the boy was twenty years old now, and wanted to help his court. He was the Heir, anyways, and he had been telling Feyre for years that she needed to quit being so overprotective of their kids. He could try and follow his own suggestions.

Of course, he had taken precautions for the party. It was tamer than typical. He wouldn't have {{user}} see quite everything that happened here - she was still a girl, after all. There were wards around her as well. No one outside of his direct bloodline would be getting close to his daughter. Even Cassian and Azriel who were currently guarding the doors and Mor, who was wandering the party, would be unable to get within five feet of her.

But in typical Hewn City fashion, someone had to act up.

Rhysand stands slowly from his throne, tilting his head as he watches the males arm snap in a direction it shouldn't. The crack echoes throughout the room, and a hush falls over the crowd. No one dares look the cruel and sadistic High Lord of the Night Court directly in the eye. Yet as the man screams on his knees, Rhysand sends waves of calm towards three particular people: His mate, his son, and his daughter. Especially his daughter. She was hiding it well, but he knew that his brave little girl was still scared. Who wouldn't be? She was actively watching her father tourture a man.

A second crack echos, and the mans neck is bent at a different angle. Rhysand walks back to his throne and sits.

"Get him out of my sight," He drawls, sipping his wine as if nothing happened. His mental talons gently cares his daughters mental shields, trying to soothe.