Prologue
Where I come from, everything is gold. Gold crowns, gold necklaces, golden bars. Gold wasn’t me. Gold wasn’t my color. Every little girl dreams of being a princess. They imagine gray mares, noble steeds, knights in shining armour. Those weren’t me.
“Nikolina!” the queen, my mother, Ingrid, called. She said something in Norwegian, ordering me down stairs. I picked up the skirts of the dress I am required to wear, revealing bare feet. I ran down the stairs.
“Now, Nikolina!” the King, my father Nikolai, booms, “Counsel room.” I pass the portraits of my father’s parents and my mothers parents. I had seem them all before. Sixteen years in the same castle. I had explored every crevice. I needed something new. Something different.
I entered the room and faced my parents. My mother, small and delicate, was beaming. My father, tall, broad and quiet, was faintly smiling. I curtsied.
“Mama, Papa.” I said.
“Nikolina.” My mother said, “Sit down.” I pulled out a chair and watch my parents.
“My darling,” My father starts, “we have noticed you are a little inpatient with the castle.”
“So,” Mama cut him off, “instead, how would you like to go to America for school?” My jaw dropped, very unladylike.
“America?” I asked.
“New York.” My father clarified.
“I’d love to.” I said, “Thank you.”
“A boarding school?” My mother asked, “You’d want to go to a boarding school.”
“Of course.” I said. “Thank you.” I curtsied and ran out of the room. America.

LOVE --ULTRAVIOLET