I am Skylar Tallyn. Atleast that's what I'm called; only my father knows my True Name because he gave it to me. I'm the Iron Princess, the second born to Meghan Chase, the Iron Queen and daughter of the summer king Oberon, and Prince Ash, a prince of winter. I'm sixteen years old. I have an older brother, Prince Keirran Tallyn. Keirran is five years my elder. I don't see him much. Like my father used to, he spends hardly any time in court. He prefers the wyldwood to Mag Tuiredh, our home. I envy him. Without my brother, I had no one to fall back on if I wanted to dodge a day or two.

I wander through the castle aimlessly. It was a huge thing really, easy to lose yourself in, but I had been born here; I knew it like the back of my hand. I'm supposed to be leaving for Elysium today but I'm not quite ready to submit to my maids fussing. Breena and Nerida were like a pair of mother hens. Their job was to make me look the princess and, to their credit, they did it well. I was tugged here, there and everywhere by them but it always does the job, I suppose.

At the end of the hall, I hear the familiar clashing of swords. I arrive on the walkway above the castle courtyard and spot my father, practising swordsmanship with an unfortunate servant. What a hypocrite. Only an hour ago, I was receiving a lecture about punctual from his truly. Leaning on the small stone wall, I sigh exasperatedly, loud so he registers me.

"Meg, I'm sorry. I was just-" he stutters, whirling around guiltily. His eyes find me up on the walkway. He sighs in relief. "Oh, it's just you, Sky."

"Just me? I can easily grass you up, you realise?"

"But you won't."

"Who says?"

"Father does."

"Whatever. Shouldn't you be getting ready to leave for Elysium like the rest of us?" I frown, boosting myself up onto the wall.

"I've got time." he says, swinging his lethally sharp sword. That blade had been the last thing many people had seen. He returns his focus to the fight at hand. Well, I don't think you can call it a fight. My father has the servant on his backside in seconds.

"None of the servants are any good." he grumbled as the poor servant hurried off before he can get sucked into another duel with the consort. "Come and duel with me, Sky."

Dad always asks me to duel with him. My brother, Keirran, didn't enjoy sparring. He preferred to fight with glamours and his unfailing charm. I liked to use glamours too, but I got more of a rush from sword fighting.

"Are you crazy? You know Mom will kill the both of us if I have even the slightest cut for Elysium."

"If you're as good as I know you are, you won't have any. And neither will I, I'm pretty good." he says cockily, pulling my sword from the weapons rack.

"Fine." I give in, sliding off the wall and going down the steps into the courtyard. He offers me my sword, hilt first. My sword is a winter sword, like my father's, a gleaming silver hilt and a icy blue blade. Mab, the Unseelie Queen and my grandmother, gave it to me.

Due to my blood, I was a Summer, Winter and Iron princess though, because of my father, my blood had a high hit for Winter. I have some manner of control over the three territories. I could control all three glamours. I was immune to the cold of Tir Na Nog and to the iron of my home that would kill any other fey.

Bringing my blade to position, we circle each other like a pair of lions, mirroring each others every move. 'Don't just focus on the weapon. Words can kill as easy as a blade; focus on everything.' He had instructed me ever since I was small. In fact, I can't remember my first lesson because I was simply too young. Over time I had become tuned to every little habit and tact that my father employed and he had to me, but there were so many that it was hard to anticipate. The consort lunged to my right, aiming for my midriff. I wheeled the sword and smacked his blade back. My father had an edge on me because of his pure brute-force that he put behind every swing. But I was fast, just a tad faster than he was. These different assets made for a relatively balanced battle. Robin Goodfellow had taught me that blade fighting was like a dance; it's led by the one who can move the smoothest, challenge the most and focus the longest.

"Skylar! Ash!"

We meet each other's eyes, sharing a moment of horror before we break apart. The swords let out a sharp screech as they tear away from one another. My mother stood on a high balcony, watching us with unmistakeable contempt. My mother looked no older than I did and it would likely remain that way. She would no longer age and I was nearing the time, too.

"Did I tell you no swords until after Elysium or was I speaking a different language?" she says coolly.

My father swallowed his meekness, a wry smirk twitching his lips. "Well, in a sense."

I choked back a laugh but there was no hiding the grin on my face.

The queen tutted. She turns her gaze to me. "Sky, Breena and Nerida have your Elysium clothes ready for you. Go on now."

Leaving the courtyard submissively, I trot up the endless flights of spiral staircases that lead to my chambers in the highest tower. My windows have the best views in Mag Tuiredh. I push open the heavy door and I'm immediately set upon by my maids.

"Skylar, where have you been? Elysium is the most important gathering all year and you still manage to put in the latest appearance." Nerida scolded, practically ripping my casuals from me. I had known Nerida all my life and I could expect no diffidence from her. Breena was much more courteous.

"I hope you find your dress suitable, my lady." Breena said quietly, her electric green eyes glowing up at me like a circuit. No matter how I insisted, the maid had always stuck to her ways.

"I'm sure it'll be beautiful, Breena." I tell her, handing her my red jacket. The girl smiled.

For the trek to Elysium, Nerida and Breena have opted to fit me into my hunting clothes. They are all black for two reasons. One, to blend in with the darkness of the wyldwood and two, black looks good on me. The outfit consists of special riding leggings, a tank top, a leather jacket and boots. I pull them on and I catch myself in the mirror.

I look exactly like my father; like a winter sidhe. My long, curly black hair flows down to my waist, my skin is pale white and my eyes glow like pristine silver. Turning away from the mirror, Breena braids my hair into a simple plait and hands me their chosen dress wrapped up in thick layers. I strap my sword to my hip, with a row of throwing knives slotted into the inner fabrics of my jacket. If there's one thing I've learnt, you can never be over-armed.

I make my way back to the courtyard where my parents wait with a host of guards. My handsome black stallion, Orin, a gift from my big brother, is saddled and waiting for me. Riding, along with practising our glamours, is mine and Keirran's favourite pastime.

My father wears a simple black tunic and cloak, customary for him. He too has his sword close at hand.

"Where's Keirran?" Mom asks to no one in particular, her aqua blue eyes scanning the guard.

"It's alright, Mom. Keirran sent me a message through glamour last night. He's going to meet us at Arcadia. He's out on a hunt in the wyldwood." I jump in quickly. Her face relaxes a little.

I push myself up into Orin's saddle with ease. He prances about nervously when I land in the saddle.

"Easy, boy." I tell my horse soothingly, patting his smooth neck. Recognising me, Orin calms and stands still once more. I settle myself comfortably in the saddle.

The front guard of knights take position, readying our procession to depart. Coming up between my parents, our entourage leaves the castle walls and enters the heart of Mag Tuiredh. The journey from the Iron City to Arcadia is a long one. We could use a trod if we had wished but, as I had learnt in my ventures with my brother, most of the trods had their hidden risks. Besides, my father and I preferred to ride. The iron fey had insisted that their queen ride in a carriage but both princess and consort had stood their ground.

We reach the wyldwood by nightfall, set to reach the Summer court in another two days ride. After the knights set up a tent for me, I lay my bed roll out on the floor and drift off into a dreamless sleep, only to be woken only a few hours later.

"Sky. Skylar, wake up." a voice calls, shaking my shoulder.

"Keirran, already?" I groan, rolling and turning my back on him. "Five more minutes and I'll be up, I swear.'

"It's me." my father says, coming into my line of sight. "Want to go out on a ride?"

"What?" I ask blearily, propping myself on my elbow. I feel the chill of the night and I see the pitch black dark through the crack in the tent flap. "It's the middle of the night."

"I know." he says patiently, his silver eyes gleaming. "It's a perfect night to hunt."

"I was kidding when I asked if you were crazy, you know that right?" I tell him, falling back onto the pillows. He laughs breezily. "I'm serious. You know Mom will kill us if she wakes up and finds that we're not here."

"We'll be back before then."

My common sense pleads with me desperately but the thought of a midnight hunt, and the rush that came with it, was too much to refuse.

"Alright." I sigh, pulling my weapons up from beside me.

We sneak past the knights on watch, Eldon and Kallan, and untie our horses from a tree branch. Mounting up, we gallop off into the darkness companionably.