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The Hewn City was not a place for children. Its jagged black spires and ominous halls were steeped in cruelty and fear, and even the air seemed heavy with malice. It was a realm where no laughter echoed, no joy flourished.
Until today.
Keir, steward of the Court of Nightmares, was leading a meeting with several members of the court’s nobility. He was mid-sentence, his voice cold and clipped, when a sudden ripple of power fractured the oppressive silence. A child’s delighted giggle followed, echoing eerily through the high ceilings of the council chamber.
The room fell deathly still.
Keir’s eyes widened as a small figure appeared at the centre of the room. A dark-haired boy, no older than three, with wide violet eyes that sparkled like stars, stood clutching a half-eaten apple.
Nyx.
Keir rose so quickly his chair toppled over. “What is that child doing here?”
Nyx, oblivious to the alarm he’d caused, tilted his head at the gathered fae. “Hello,” he said brightly, waving his apple at them.
Keir’s mouth worked soundlessly, his usual air of superiority crumbling under the weight of sheer panic.
This was the son of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court.
The most powerful child in Prythian.
And he was here .
Before Keir could form a coherent sentence, Nyx winnowed again, disappearing with a soft ripple. Every head in the room turned in unison, and a collective gasp rippled through the chamber.
Keir froze, his words dying in his throat, as something warm and solid landed in his lap. The heir to the Night Court was now perched on his lap.
Keir’s mind raced, his hands hovering awkwardly as though unsure whether to steady the child or recoil.
“Nyx,” he said finally, his voice strained. “What…are you doing here?”
“I winnowed!” Nyx announced proudly, as if that explained everything. He looked around the room, his small face lighting up at the sight of the dark, glittering walls. “It’s shiny here!”
Keir’s mouth worked soundlessly as he stared at the boy. He could feel the eyes of every noble in the room boring into him, their fear palpable.
“Do we…bow?” someone whispered from across the table.
“Silence,” Keir snapped, his tone sharper than intended. He turned his attention back to Nyx, who was now examining the intricate patterns of Keir’s tunic.
“Papa says you’re grumpy,” Nyx said matter-of-factly, tugging at the fabric. “Are you?”
Keir blinked, utterly at a loss. “I—what?”
“This is bad,” one of Keir’s advisors muttered.
“Bad?” Keir hissed, his face pale. “This is a disaster. If Rhysand finds out his son was here—”
“Was here?” a deep, amused voice interrupted.
Keir froze, his blood turning to ice as Rhysand himself stepped out of the shadows. The court collectively recoiled, bowing low as Rhysand’s gaze swept over them, cold and dangerous.
His violet eyes landed on his son, still perched on Keir’s lap, and the corner of his lips tugged upwards.
“Hello, Keir,” Rhys said smoothly, his expression pleasant but his tone laced with quiet menace. “Care to explain why my son is treating your court like a playground?”
Nyx beamed at his father. “Hi, Papa!”
Feyre materialised beside him a moment later, her expression a mixture of relief and exasperation.
She crossed her arms, her tone sharp but motherly. “Nyx, what have we said about winnowing into places without telling us?”
“I was exploring, Mama!” Nyx announced proudly.
“Exploring?” Rhys repeated, arching a brow at his son. “And you thought the Court of Nightmares was a good place for that, did you?”
Nyx blinked innocently. “It’s big and shiny.”
Rhys snorted, shaking his head. “Of course it is.”
Feyre shot her son a stern look. “Nyx, this is not a place to play.”
“But it’s shiny!” Nyx protested, pointing at the polished black stone of the glimmering walls.
Keir watched the exchange in abject horror as the child, completely unfazed, offered him the half-eaten apple. “For you.”
Rhysand smirked, his amusement evident despite the situation. “Well, Keir, it seems you’ve gained a new admirer.”
Keir cleared his throat, gently lifting Nyx and handing him off to Feyre as though the child were a ticking time bomb. “High Lord, I—he just—”
“Relax,” Rhys said smoothly, his voice dripping with mockery. “I doubt Nyx was here to overthrow you.”
She kissed the top of Nyx’s head, her voice gentle but firm. “Nyx, you can’t just go anywhere you want. This is a dangerous place.”
“But Uncle Az says I’m good at winnowing!” Nyx argued, looking far too pleased with himself.
“He’s not wrong,” Feyre muttered under her breath, her expression softening as he snuggled against her chest.
“Well,” Rhysand said suddenly, his tone sharp enough to make the steward flinch. “You and this council are very lucky my son seems unharmed. If I find out anyone here so much as looked at him the wrong way—”
“Of course, High Lord,” Keir stammered, bowing low. “No one would dare harm him.”
Rhys smiled coldly. “Good.”
Nyx wiggled out of Feyre’s arms, toddling over to Rhys and grabbing his hand. “Can we go home now? I’m done exploring.”
Rhys crouched down, brushing a stray curl from Nyx’s forehead. “Done causing mischief, are you?”
Nyx grinned. “For now.”
Feyre sighed, taking her son’s other hand. “We really need to put wards on him.”
“I told you that weeks ago,” Rhys said with a smirk as they prepared to winnow.
As they prepared to winnow away, Rhys turned back to Keir, his smirk softening into something more dangerous.
“Thank you for keeping my son entertained,” Rhys said, his voice smooth as silk but carrying an edge of warning.
Keir bowed his head, his voice tight. “It was…an honour.”
With a flicker of power, Rhys, Feyre, and Nyx disappeared, leaving the council chamber in stunned silence.
The nobles slowly straightened, exchanging uneasy glances.
“That child,” he muttered, shaking his head. “is a menace."
Like father, like son, he thought wryly.
Keir sank back into his chair, rubbing his temples as he muttered, “Shiny. Of all the things…”
Somewhere around the table, someone coughed to stifle their laughter.